Smoke

Story idea from my friend henry, short and bittersweet

Smoke

Edward stood on the deck of the yacht for a very long time that first day. He could hear the talking behind him, acknowledged it and what it meant, but mostly he just stood, and thought.

He thought about when he used to carry nails in the pocket of his only suit, to make the sound of money. He thought about the jobs he had, the jobs he lost, the ever-present feeling of jealousy without anger towards his superiors. He thought about factory floors and broken apartment windows, $10 bottles of liquor and bare walls in an apartment that wasn't worth fixing up. He thought about the scar on his hand from trying to fix his own shoes, and stealing a real leather wallet to have the feeling of luxury before he was graced by the warm lacquer deck beneath his bare toes. He thought about the day he had received a letter from his friend Davis offering some little cut of a new company, and his walk to the bank, and holding in tears behind that dark wooden desk, trying to justify the money he needed, and he remembered his prayers. He thought about the nights spent awake, wondering if he would ever taste champagne, wondering how many more nights he would spend in this bed. He remembered the second letter from his old friend that had brought the 10-year-old tears to his eyes and his aching knees to the rotting carpet.

Edward stood watching the birds glide along the shore, effortless. His eyes were often drawn to the clouds, in their pilotless flight. The uncontrolled sense of surrender he imagined from them reminded him of himself in some way. He watched the turning over of the infinite coins dancing on top of the waves as they were shattered by the gold rays of the afternoon Mediterranean sun. The sun that warmed his robed back, melted the ice in his glass and made the smoldering end of his cigar look dull and brittle, its smoke was whipped away by the warm, salty wind. This sun seemed somehow different from the one that had shined on his hunched back for so many years before this. He literally was at a loss for thought, struck dumb by the profound disbelief that had permeated his first plane flight over the ocean. The embraces and toasts were beginning to lose their Hollywood technicolor, and his new life was finally truly taking shape in his mind. The gratitude of a blessed beggar glinted bright from the eyes of the young man who had pulled a new life from nowhere with a dice roll he didn't know he had.

“Edward,” he heard his friend, “Come back over and sit, you're missing a hell of a story.”

He turned as quickly as the boat's gentle movements and his tight step would allow, and squinted toward the dark glass silhouettes of Davis, Adriana and Harriet.

He heard Harriet, “As I was saying, this bit is really priceless Eddy dear,” and could hardly meet her eyes. He was still under the spell of his luck, and remembered a time very long ago when he had seen the Queen of England on a trip to Washington DC. The words seemed unreal and again he thought of the movies. And yet, here he was, sitting next to her.

Laughter rang off the chrome mast, as the party accustomed to this humor enjoyed it in the way only they are able. Edward laughed and watched Davis, God forbid he should stop laughing too soon or too late.

" " "

The fourth day of the trip was memorable in part because the boat's anchor had been lifted, and Davis was showing off the beautiful coast he had never seen before. The sea made Edward happy in a way he couldn't quite identify. The gentle cradling movements of the boat were like a lullaby to forget risk and let go of reality, although it was so vibrant and close around you. Quickly he had realized the true gravity of his newly found wealth, and he wanted to enjoy the freshness and surprise of it all in case it wore off. As the boat found its way along the coast and made jokes of threatening rocks, Edward just wanted to breathe this alien air, and look into the faces of his unreal companions to feel their acceptance. Every night he would cry out with joy in the cold air above the sleeping millionaires, looking out at the moon, for once in his life, jealous of no-one.

The mornings were spent making small talk and breakfast. First cigarettes were already thrown to the fish by that time, and the luxurious steel could light a new one. In the day the women talked, the men swam and planned futures, everyone drank. The evenings were all champagne toasts and pearls winking behind eyelids. Edward found at these times he had very little to say, and he played along caught up in the diamond tinted glory of the sunset and the cigar smoke, moving mindless, a slave to the strong wills all around. The air and the ease of life had settled by this time, and he could relax and feel his new life becoming a reality of habit.

" " "

Davis decided on the fifth day that they better go back to a town and buy more food, clothing, liquor, champagne and tobacco. The time of Edward's fascination with the sea had ended, although he had not realized what he saw in it. The quiet sense of comfort out there seemed to fit with what sounded like practiced laughter and the constant performance of these; his dreamed-of friends. In it's beautiful form, the sea was grace, natural beauty, and exclusive leisure all at once. Everything in the postcard he was living, the women, the yacht, the drink, the sunset, it all hung together. Everything belonged except Edward. He could still feel the fit, too loose here, too tight there, but the smell of smoke on his suit distracted him from this as he stepped off of the ramp into the dock of Naples.

At the hotel with Harriet, in the bar with Davis, in the quiet club with Adriana, his disbelief followed him everywhere. He would look at strangers in attempts to discern whether they knew he did not belong. These unaccustomed settings drove him away from the club and the hotel room, towards the streets in the cool, nonjudgmental quiet of the Italian night.

" " "

At night many things came to his mind, as is only natural in a truly unique and blissful state as Edward was in. His walks were alone or with Adriana, and led him in and out of every square and park that caught his eye. The walks were aimless and they fit his mindset in that way. Opportunity was a stranger to him, and luck an unfamiliar acquaintance. Not once before in his life was there a true chance to become something, and frankly the whole experience was frightening. Several days were uncomfortable in the middle of his adventure, punctuated by his walks or spells of drunkenness when he felt no pressure to represent his idea of luxury. The decision was made to go to Monaco.

Edward almost feared the boat trip, because it meant he would not be able to walk at all. His constant regimen of second-guessing his statements and jokes was tiring him, and although he had no reason to think it, he was under the impression that he was a burden to his new friends. The destinations and lifestyle that had appealed to him so strongly were becoming a cause of stress. He felt insincere, and his sense of alienation amplified itself as he became more unsure how to act around this social circle he had only heard and read about. He went through the motions for the trip, and in a short time, there was the port of Monte Carlo rising next to them.

" " "

Monte Carlo embodied Edward's new waking dream. His silent discomfort again tempted him to long walks and an open wallet. In the casinos and clubs, hours flew as the roulette wheel spun, the cards fell, and the dice stared hatefully upward at the crystal chandeliers with their greedy eyes. Only when the pressure was removed, when conversation could be replaced by spending, could he relax and enjoy himself. The casino was the ultimate destination for this, as the mindset of the free spender could be imitated much more easily than that of the upper-class socialite. The constant intoxication of luxury was still a wonder to Edward, and he walked around the bright temples of frivolity and dark houses of temptation, glowing in his new role with Adriana close beside him.

In his mind he was king, the final affirmation of his arrival in the world of his fantasies came to him with each clap, laugh or shout of dismay at thousands lost. Money lost it's sanctity and the night grew darker.

" " "

My dear friends,

It is clear to me now that I do not deserve the life I seek. There is no fate more decisive than bankruptcy, and no greater irony than the life I have been living for this time, however short. It was by dumb luck that I stumbled into it, and by my own stupidity I trusted that luck as though I deserved and earned it. I know now that even if such a thing as fate exists, it holds no affection for me. To Mr. Hightower and Ms. Blackburn, and to my dear Adriana, you have my sincerest apologies for wasting your time acting as though I could lead a life like yours. My time with you has been the greatest of my life, and though it was not my intention to end that chapter tonight, my wealth has come and gone with the wind. Knowing that I will likely never again lead a life I can bear, I give fate one last opportunity to humor me and give me a reason to hope for another unlikely rise to the life I have so adored and will so dearly miss. You all seem to know the recipe to make your own success, one I am not privileged to ever learn, I suppose. Thank God for that my friends, and for everything else you have.

Very truly yours,

Eddy

The above is evidence regarding the ongoing investigation of the apparent suicide of

Mr. Edward Harrison, this note was found at the top of the stairs at the entrance of the Casino de Monte Carlo. The body at the foot of the stairs was pronounced dead at 1:51 am July 7^th of a single gunshot wound to the head. Also found near the note and aforementioned weapon was a single Monegasque Franc coin with the victims blood on its reverse.

2/15/2012