Conch Shells and Smokers.

A simple movement sends a tidal wave of emotions.

 

Conch Shells and Smokers

 

It's funny, in a not-so-amusing way, when something so insignificant triggers an emotion so thick, one could feed the poor with that single worded feeling.

 

Katy finished folding a couple of beach towels, and placed them into her drawstring bag, while Mike stood somewhere across the room with a conch shell in his hands. The two stood in a friend's dining room, preparing to leave that grad party, so Mike could make it back to his own party. Just as Katy made room for the camera, Mike took a deep breath and blew into the shell. Sending a ripple of sound waves around the house. The deep, echoing sound filled Katy's heart and mind with a memory that she had almost forgotten. The conch shell that resided in her grandparents' home. The shell her grandpa used to take outside the house, face the endless field across the street, and blew into. As a little girl, Katy found that rich harmony, so exciting, but as she grew older, it just became another moment her grandpa wished to share. Little did she know back then, that those moments would end too soon.

 

The memory flooded back so unexpectedly, that she momentarily forgot to breathe. She put down the camera, and walked over to the wall that separated her from the conch and Mike. Her arms wrapped around her now fragile body, leaning against the wall. Mike continued to let the conch's deep sonance envelop the open rooms. Tear brimmed Katy's eyelids. She took deep breaths, just to hold them back. In the next room, she heard Mike place the conch shell back where he found it. She took one last breath, deeply through her nose, and gently from her lips. Mike came around the corner, noting nothing wrong, and turned to grab his keys.

 

“Are you ready?” he asked. Katy nodded, and quickly shoved that camera back into the bag, and swung the bag over her shoulder.

 

“Let me go say bye to Elaine first.”

 

“Alright,” he stood by the front door waiting. Katy jogged out to the back of the house, told everyone goodbye, then she headed back out to the truck with Mike.

 

The two of them settled quickly into his truck. Mike's right arm extended, flipping through songs, while Katy rested her chin on her palm against his window. Random conversation intertwined with the background music. In the middle of reminiscing conch shells and her grandpa, Katy heard Mike bring up smoking. She really didn't know where it came from, but it was there. He was saying words that pricked her just pleasantly in the chest.

 

“I wish my parents didn't smoke,” Katy heard Mike say, “I've seen what smoking can do.” His tone became heartbreaking, at least to the heart that had just begun healing. Katy's gaze fell outside the truck, she could feel the waterworks.

 

I've seen it too. Quiet words tried to free themselves from her trembling lips. Mike continued to go on about his experience with watching what happened to those who smoked. He recalled the lungs that turn ashen and reek. Katy's fingers pinched the bridge of her nose, and tried once more to hold back the resurfacing hurt.

 

“I've seen,” Katy brings herself to whisper, “it, too.” Those last words tapered off into tears. She could bare it no longer. I just wasn't fair. Mike meant no harm, but stung her where it hurt the most. Right there in Mike's truck, Katy felt her the cardboard bulwark around her heart gave in, and her emotions spewed out. Taken aback, Mike eyed the oncoming traffic, and then carefully watched the girl next to him.

 

“What's wrong?” his voice innocently asked. Katy refused to say much more, or even simply look at him. These were tears she thought she was done shedding. “Look at me, Katy.”

 

Katy shook her head.

 

“Come on, Katy, look at me,” he reached over to take Katy's hand; a simple action of support. He gave a gentle squeeze. The truck came to a stop, and his full attention fell upon Katy. “Look at me, please.” Katy's shaky frame turned to face Mike.

 

“My grandpa died of lung cancer,” she managed between trembles. She shook off the comfort from Mike's hand.

 

“Hm? Don't what?”

 

“Don't touch me,” she struggled to say. She was never good at accepting sympathy over this. Katy always managed to lose more control over herself. She shifted her body, so she pressed herself against the passenger door.

 

“Look. I'm sorry. I know now, and I won't mention it next time.”

 

“No. say what you want to say, and don't be sorry. I thought I would be over it by now,” she attempted to say with a shrug, still whimpering over a freshly torn scab. She allowed her eyes to fell to her hand in her lap.

 

“What the heck are you looking at?” annoyance laced Mike's abrupt words. Surprised by such rudeness, Katy's head snapped up. His gaze fell outside her window, and onto a man in a passing green truck. “Sorry, Katy. That wasn't directed towards you. That man was giving me some strange look.” Mike's face contorted into some expression that was meant to be offending, or something odd. Katy tried to suppress a smile; she wasn't supposed to be happy right now.

 

Mike continued to spazz out over that man who kept turning back to look at him. Katy found a quick chuckle deep inside of her. That man probably thought Mike made her cry. Not like that was far from the truth, but it wasn't really Mike's fault. Katy was just being too weak.

 

Tears continued to fall down her cheeks. Even if Katy found amusement in the thoughts of that man in that green truck, she still felt sore. Mike's arm wrapped around her, pulling her in. She gave into the touch, and rested her head on his shoulder, but only for a moment. After all they were in a moving vehicle.

 

“My grandpa was a very people person,” Katy recalled, “He always liked being up and about chatting and helping others. It didn't matter if they were skinny, fat, tall, short, or even purple, he'd be there.”

Mike nodded.

 

“I remember sitting in the nursing home, and looking up at a bulletin board full of cards and letters people sent him. Then feeling guilty for not having my words claim a spot on the board. My eyes skimmed through familiar names, until I found a hand-drawn picture along with a note. I took the thumbtack off, and looked at the picture, then read the note.,” Katy took a deep breath before continuing. Mike's fingers intertwined with hers. “The note said that my grandpa had become a father figure to her, and that she couldn't bare to lose him. She told him to keep fighting. And you know what, he did fight. But then quit. It was awful for him to hold on any longer. Being strapped to a bed like that for so long was Hell.”

 

Mike nods once more.

 

“My uncles smoked, and they still do. My grandpa didn't. It's just not fair. I wish they would stop. I wish the world would stop really. It's just not fair,” Katy picked up that sob, and let it all out into her open hands. Mikes finger squeezes her, offering strength that she just couldn't take.

 

“Your grandpa sat an example. He showed those around him what happens when you smoke. Your grandpa did something good,” he attempted to make me feel better. It worked, but only slightly.

 

“What does that matter? My uncles still smoke!” Katy pressed. Mike sighed, and embraced her in an odd way with one arm, trying to be the responsible driver and lean-on-my-shoulder type of friend.

 

“Quit looking at us!” Mike shouted to the driver in the green truck who was a couple cars ahead. Katy shook her head, rested her hand on his shoulder until he settled back into his seat, and drove on.

 

Mike fell silent, unsure of what to say to help make her feel better. It was fine though, the silence gave Katy time to think over what Mike just said. Her grandpa hadn't died in vain. He would at least be an example to someone. Katy wiped away her tears, sniffled a few times more. Her boyfriend came to a slow as they pulled into the neighborhood, exchanging a few kisses.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Katy took two deep breaths, and nodded. Easing his foot onto the pedal, Mike drove her to her driveway, and squeezed her hand goodbye.

Author's Note

This is somethingI started months ago, and decided I needed to finish it. TEAR IT TO PIEEECEEEESSS!

Reviews

[thecoolone52]

ehy i love smoking after i read this i mgona go have a smoke........... hahahaha but ehy you know its a girly write which isnt a bad thing..............thanks for entering my contest