A Nicotine Craving

This is both fiction and non-fiction combined. I did work in a motel with over a hundred rooms. The owner used work release inmates from the local county jail to be house-keepers. I was beyond words.

“What I am saying now is a lie. But what I am about to tell you is not. I remember it like it was yesterday. If only I had answered the phone that day.” Helen said this to her sister Kim. “It was back when I used to work with all those guys. I told you about what happened to Steve Story. To this day I still feel bad about what happened.

 

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It was a Sunday night; Cedric and Steve stared at each other as their anticipation dwindled; within seconds all hope had passed, the phone went unanswered. Steve tightened his grip on the receiver and pressed it into his ear as if by some magical force it could will Helen to answer the phone; he desperately needed to talk to her again but the phone just rang and rang. Cedric turned away disappointed, if she had not answered by now, she wasn’t going too. All they could do was wait for the call back.

 

“You just can’t trust a soul nowadays.” Steve sounded disgusted. “One of us is a thief and somebody’s jealous.”

 

“Hell man, we’re all thieves, what are you talking about?” Cedric laughed.

 

“Yea.” Steve answered quietly.

 

Later Steve decided to take matters into his own hands. It was a huge risk but he was going anyway. He looked at Cedric seriously and said, “Field trip.”  

 

Bold, brave, and belligerent, Steve twenty-three years old, 5’11”, medium build, blonde hair, and blue eyes, was in the final stages of doing time for possession of narcotics with intent to distribute and DUI charges. He now was in a work release program doing front desk duties at a motel and scheduled for discharge in two days. Years he had floated by on thoughts of being free again, ready to pick up life where he left it. The past few years of being incarcerated had been an inconvenience but tolerable. If there was a lesson to be learned, Steve didn’t get it.

 

Steve walked as fast as he could. He looked, he watched, he listened, he missed nothing that moved in his line of sight. The darkness of the night caused little attention to be drawn to his fast long strides across a vacant condemned truck stop’s parking lot. The lot that stood between him and what he desired. He waded through broken beer bottles and made a special effort to avoid kicking any empty beer cans. No need for useless noise that could draw needless attention.  Close enough now that he could smell them, taste them, and then he seen them through the window, beckoning to him. He could almost hear them calling his name through the night air.

 

Into the convenient store he went, in two strides he was at the counter.

 

“Reds in the box, please.” He said to the clerk; all the while he still kept a watchful eye out for anyone and everyone. The cashier scanned his order, collected his cash, and returned his change. Not wasting one moment, he tore the rim off the cellophane, ripped the foil away, and extracted a cigarette that he placed so urgently between eager lips. Prepared now to light up the second he cleared the door. The change he stuffed into his front right pants pocket while pulling out a complimentary book of motel matches from the left. He turned and instantly out from behind a rack of potato chips stepped Bob, one of his correctional officers. Their eyes locked.

 

“Thank you Story, I’ll take these. It’s not my brand but you won’t need them where you are headed.” Bob said. He snatched the pack from Steve’s hand and the cigarette that dangled from his lips fell free, hit his shoe and rolled off under the chip rack.

 

Steve wasn’t sure what a heart arrhythmia was, but he felt this had to be it. His heart pummeled completely out of control. His weight shifted, like it had melted, and ran down to his feet. He tried to speak but nothing came out. What could come out in his defense? It was hot, very hot; he felt a sinking heavy sluggishness feeling that made him nauseous. Then gravity took over belted him a good knock on his head as it bounced off the tiled floor. Everything went black.

 

Steve had no interest in making trouble. His behavior now would have an effect on how many days, weeks, months, or years would be added to his sentence? In the many scenarios that he played out in his head, of all that could go wrong while he was on his little field trip, an off duty officer buying a diet coke for his wife was not one of them. He couldn’t be worried about that now. It was too late to worry about anything. He didn’t want to worry about the farm either but, a nicotine craving had just changed all that. He wasn’t sure if this would impress fellow inmates or whether he would become the relentless brunt of prison male blonde jokes. He felt the latter and would be laughed out of his cell. All these thoughts unfolded from some deep dark region from within his brain.

 

The next thing that was real was someone slapped his face and a voice from far away came into clarity.

 

“You better learn to laugh at this stunt you pulled. Hope it was worth the humiliation you are fixing to have to live through.” said Officer Bob. “You mother

is going to be so proud.”

 

Steve threw up.

 

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“Kim, did you know they sent Steve back to the farm where he served another year before being released. And the cigarette that fell from Steve’s lips that day was the last cigarette to ever touch his lips. Still nicotine free till this day. Well, what I am saying now could be a lie, but it makes for a pretty good ending to such a pathetic story. Don’t you think, sissy?

 

Author's Note

I was asked if I would have a problem working with work release inmates from the local county jail and I said I didn't. You should have seen the look in my and shock on my face when I found out they were house-keepers. I had never in my entire life heard of such a thing. I just assumed they were ground keepers and keep trash picked up in the parking lot. But no they were allowed to enter into people's room. I went into a room one day to see what kind of work they did. I understood why he had a no refund policy. I must say I did not work there very long at all.