Seven Cigarettes

Whatever gets you by.

Three pills a day, those were the requirements to keep my imbalanced mind at rest. Without them, I was someone who felt, even to a point of feeling too much, to where you want to hide away. My mother raises two children, I was the oldest boy. At sixteen, I felt obligated to fit the shoes as "man of the house" while my father chased the idea of happiness in empty shot glasses and pints. I never drank, seeing my father act as nothing but a nuisance while intoxicated makes me wish prohibition laws were still in affect, not like it would stop the man. 

It was a Wednesday morning, walking my younger brother Thomas to school was the start of my morning routine. "You should't smoke, mom says it will kill you." I stared at em, the red marks under his eyes from the cold wind burn were bright as his eyes followed the trail of snow that layed before us. "Tell you what Thomas, I have seven smokes left in this pack, then I'm done." He lit up, my brother admired me, for I was more of a parent figure than both of my parents. "Promise Jake?" he exclaimed. "I promise. In fact, I will throw this one out now." I regret the decision as soon as the cherry from my menthol connected with the snow. It was worth it, Thomas didn't smile enough, and it made him happy to see.

As I hugged Thomas and watched him walk into the primary school, I continued to lift my boots and push on through the few inches of snow. I dropped out of school at fourteen to begin working at a construction company, making eight dollars an hour to unload sheet-rock and concrete. I obtained the job thanks to my father, after leaving me no choice but to work so the lights could turn on that month. But hey, he had his scotch right? I saved as much money as I could to leave for Arizona once Thomas was old enough to take care of Himself. A warm place would feel more like home. 

The walk to work takes about an hour, so I arrive at about nine in the morning. My watch proved me to be late. I was an honest employee, and hardworking, so I hope it doesn't affect me too much. My mother wouldn't wake up this morning, I had to spend the entire hour of getting Thomas ready explaining how Xanax was something grown-ups took to help them relax. I lit my second cigarette after crossing the bridge close to my job site. I had a walkman, playing music by "The Doors," which is my favorite band. 

Walking into my job site I immediately see my boss Arthur examining the punch cards. "Where in the Hell have you been? I've got four men out today and late orders, get your a*s out there!" In a rush I put on my work gloves and ran to the trucks, waving my hand for them to begin backing up. I never did mind sitting, waiting on trucks all day. The medicine I took pretty much stripped my brain of any part of emotion except knowing I existed, and only that.  

I never wished for my life to be this way, but certain individuals get dealt certain cards. Arizona was calling my name, but the snow had my ankles locked up in the misery of this small town. For being late, I did not get to eat lunch. While loading a truck with sheet-rock I overheard Arthur call in his daughter Lucy, as the two always went out for lunch together. Lucy was spoiled, but not in a bad manner. I had minor conversations with her when I was a Freshman, she was gorgeous, but I was paying no mind to love, nor did it feel for me. Every blue moon she would cross the site and manage to make small talk with me. I believe she had affection towards me, but us being together was a candle left to stay unlit. 

Around one I went into the bathroom to take my appropriate dosage of medicine, only reaching into my pocket to find my anxiety medicine wasn't there. Turning to my other solution, I pull my fourth cigarette out. I was beginning to doubt my promise to Thomas. While walking out I dropped my Walkman, as I picked it up the tape fell out. "Damn thing, why today.." I exhaled, Jim Morrison could not even save me from today.

I began to feel sick and worried, something felt out of place. I haven't missed a day of taking my medicine in years, emotions were demanding to be felt as I started to cry. I hated this job, I hated my father, I wanted to leave right there. I began running, passing up the job site office Arthur stepped out. "Jake, you have four hours left!" I payed no mind, Arthur was nothing to me, just a man who felt his wallet was his purpose. I ran three more blocks, passing pedestrians, not caring at all about the lunacy in my actions. 

My lungs began to fail on me, so I stopped. After catching my breath I realized what I had just done. I turned around with my hands on my head, searching for an answer. As I look up I see Lucy, with one eyebrow up, and a look of pure concern. "Jake whats wrong?" she said walking closer to me. I stepped back, nothing to say, I could not open my vault of secrets to Lucy. "I broke my walkman" was all I could manage. "Jake-" I broke her next sentence "I'm on my way to get a new one now." She looked right through my lie, "Alright, I'll go with you." 

I knew I was only making the situation worse, I pulled out a cigarette. "You know those will kill you right?" "Im quitting" I defensively replied. "May I have one?" I stopped and stared at my pack, slowly took my six smoke out and handed it to her. I had one left. 

We walked a few miles and talked, I felt closer to Lucy. I wasn't sure if I liked it. Once at the store, Lucy stopped me. "Jake, I know you aren't buying a walkman, tell me whats wrong."  I broke. I told her everything wrong, and she listened, to every. single. word. Afterwards, she hugged me, and whispered "I've got you."  I felt my shoulders drop with relaxation, was this love? Was this what my body was avoiding? I felt like I was in Arizona, the almost negative temperature had no affect on me. 

After my time with Lucy, and now jobless, I decided I would try and meet Thomas and walk home with him. I knew he hated being alone. On the way I passed the a corner store, knowing I had one cigarette left. I felt guilty, but I went in anyway and purchased a new pack. "Someone help me!" I overheard. It sounded horrific. Along with the cries of a woman, I hear three men yelling for her to shut up. I peek over the corner as they were rummaging through her belongings, cards of all sorts flying out. "Where's the cash lady!?" Yelled one. Taking the lit cigarette out of my mouth, I played hero. "Hey! Stop! Now!" The men all stopped and quietly stared at me, then continued to harass the woman. I ran as fast as I could to her, as soon as I arrived the man hit the woman. Everyone stopped as she hit the cold ice on the floor of the alley. enraged I ran towards the man in front, I hear gunshots as I slipped on the ice. The men ran off while yelling to hurry one another. I stared at the lady, she was unconscious. 

I looked down to notice I was bleeding severely. I froze as I realized I had been shot, my vision getting hazy. I screamed for help, only to  find not a single soul. I feel myself fading, I notice my pack of smokes three feet away. I should have listened. Cigarettes will kill you.

Author's Note

Excuse minor errors.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed the tale. I like how you used the cigarettes to lead reader to the bad ending. I like the built-up of the character and the need for the cigarettes. Thank you for sharing the entertaining story.
Coyote