Trevor McPherson stared from across his pillow to the visual of his beloved long-time girlfriend Lauren Nelson asleep on the pillow an arm’s length away in their shared bed. As the morning sun illuminated a halo effect upon Lauren’s silky blond hair and beautiful but prematurely toughened face as she slept peacefully, Trevor smiled. He welcomed the opportunity to appreciate the sleeping beauty that he shared a bed with every single morning, and it was a good thing that he welcomed it as the buzz saw of Lauren’s intense snoring ensured that there was no shortage of opportunities to sleeplessly admire her. The rhythmic pattern of Lauren’s relentless snoring reminded Trevor how exhausted he was, having listened to it for well over an hour as she was once again struggling to wake up.
Trevor had been anticipating it coming for the last few minutes and then it came…the familiar melody and vocal of “Good Morning, Beautiful”, the song that Lauren had selected as her cell phone alarm. After several seconds of music filled the bedroom, Lauren cut loose a sharp cough and then slowly began drifting awake, but only for long enough to hit the snooze button once again and settle in for another nine minutes of rest.
Trevor looked at his own cell phone, quickly determining that Lauren didn’t have another nine minutes sleep time to spare if she wanted to get to work on time this Thursday morning. He gently put his hand on Lauren’s shoulder and began to shake her.
“It’s 7:20, baby,” Trevor announced. “You gotta get moving.”
Lauren moaned and then coughed again, showing no signs of becoming fully conscious on her own volition. Once she launched into another pattern of loud snoring, Trevor knew he needed to take a more aggressive approach to get his girlfriend out of bed.
Trevor reached down inside the blanket for official verification of what he already knew…that Lauren was lying naked under the covers. With a hint of mischief, Trevor slid underneath the covers and approached his face to her genitals. He stuck his tongue out until he could feel it touch her labia and then began licking, gently at first but slowly escalating with subsequent tongue strokes. It didn’t take long before he began to hear some mildly pleasured moans emerging from the other side of the blanket. The moans grew louder as Trevor’s tongue movements got more aggressive, and he soon felt her hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair for encouragement. He kept his ears perked until he heard the inevitable flicking of a cigarette lighter. This was his cue to confirm that Lauren was finally awake enough to start her day.
Much as Trevor would have liked to finish his work on Lauren to its completion, he knew neither one of them had the time for it this morning. He pulled his face away from her private parts and then slid on up from under the blanket, his smiling face outlined by the glossy sheen from Lauren’s bodily fluids.
“Morning baby!” Trevor announced with a contagious perkiness.
“Morning Trevor,” Lauren greeted back warmly but with lingering exhaustion, her husky voice startling him as part of him always expected to still hear the giggly voice of the 15-year-old schoolgirl he met seven years and 100,000 cigarettes ago.
Lauren reached out to continue stroking her hand through the hair on Trevor’s head, taking a deep and frisky drag from her first Marlboro Light 100 of the day and then exhaling playfully into Trevor’s face. She then observed with accomplishment as Trevor took it in, savoring the acrid blast of smoke she shared with him from one pillow to the next.
Lauren arched her eyebrow as she half-jokingly took Trevor to task. “Why did you stop what you were doing down there? I was really starting to get into it!”
Trevor gave her an impish grin. “That’s easy for you to say. You have no idea what it smells like down there before you’ve taken your morning shower!”
Lauren laughed boisterously, a burst of smoke exploding from her mouth and nose once again invading Trevor’s airspace like a counterfeit incense. “You rat!” Lauren snorted back, playfully whacking Trevor on the arm.
Trevor continued. “Seriously though, it’s 7:25. I figured it would be easier to make nice with your pussy later than it would be to make nice with your dad if you missed another delivery because of oversleeping.”
Lauren looked at her phone to confirm the time and then grunted. “Point taken!” she agreed, tossing off the covers and finally beginning to move with some urgency. She took another look at Trevor lying on the bed, returning the favor and admiring the image of him resting. With lust in her eyes, she took a deep drag from her half-smoked cigarette.
Much as Trevor loved seeing that look in Lauren’s eyes, he had to keep her on task. “So I was thinking maybe an omelet for breakfast this morning? It’s gonna have to be something quick.”
Lauren grinned, still not fully at peace with the homemaker side of her boyfriend, her face lighting up as she took a drag from her cigarette, enjoying both the rush of the nicotine and Trevor’s breakfast suggestion. “An omelet sounds great actually….as long as I get to have mushrooms.”
Trevor wrinkled his nose and grinned, nodding in agreement. “I’ll see what I can do,” he teased with grudging consensus.
“You’re the best, baby!” Lauren exclaimed with a newfound hustle, leaning her naked body over the bed to give Trevor a quick peck on the cheek, residual smoke still spraying from her mouth and nose.
Trevor once again breathed in Lauren’s exhaust and savored it, appreciating that it was poised to be the high point of his morning. As he watched his smiling lover disappear out of the bedroom and slip into the adjacent bathroom, it became that much more real to him that it was gonna be all downhill from there for the foreseeable future. Looking at his phone again and seeing it was 7:28, he knew he didn’t have time for self-pity now as he had a breakfast that needed to be made quickly. But as he rose to his feet, he appreciated he’d have no end of time for self-pity the second after those breakfast dishes were washed.
Trevor slumbered his way out into the kitchen, breaking out the frying pan, the carton of eggs, the shredded cheddar cheese, and the mushrooms. The sound of the shower being turned on in the bathroom broke the silence, at which point Trevor’s frown deepened. He intentionally focused on the sound of the eggs sizzling in the frying pan to drown out Lauren’s running shower water that was a symbol of her burgeoning vigor versus his own stagnation. Even though he made every effort to suppress his humiliation, it was killing him that Lauren was out there accumulating a professional resume while he was spinning his wheels at home. It hit even harder as his mind drifted back several years when he was the one on the fast track for a bright future and she was the one drifting into the sunset of high school with no tangible plans or aspirations.
By no means did Trevor begrudge Lauren her professional success, but a part of him resented it. It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way, after all. He had worked hard for his college scholarships and internships, but was unlucky enough to excel in a field that had evolved even further toward obsolescence. It had always been a struggle to make a living as a writer, but in the digital era, it was now hard to find anybody willing to pay him for his written words. Meanwhile, Lauren ascended to a six-figure job at the shipping department of her parents’ plumbing parts company right out of high school. And yet here he stood, making her breakfast before work because, once again, he had nothing on the agenda for the rest of the day.
She was a good sport about it and a highly understanding partner, but Trevor wondered if there was an expiration date to her patience. And if there was and she started doubting his ability to find his footing, would this flicker of resentment in him grow into an inferno? He found that mentally navigating this spider web of insecurities was becoming a morning staple of breakfast preparation, and worst of all, it was getting harder for him to see an escape hatch on the horizon.
Trevor tried to focus on the omelet as he sprinkled on the cheese and dropped in the mushrooms, doing his best to at least suspend the tidal wave of self-doubt bringing him down long enough to keep his game face on for Lauren. As he heard the shower turn off, he knew that Lauren’s return would be imminent and mentally prepared himself by trying on his best fake smile. The sound of her hair dryer soon replaced the shower, giving Trevor a couple more minutes to pull himself together.
Moments later, the bathroom door opened up and a hustling Lauren emerged. Trevor no longer had to feign a smile as he watched her proceed his direction, his heart filling with sincere joy as he observed her. Lauren’s mostly wet long blond hair spilled recklessly over the shoulders of her white blouse as she frantically pulled her skin-tight black leather leggings over her hips and snapped the waist, molding the material snugly over her sculpted feminine figure. Lauren puckered her lips anxiously around the freshly lit Marlboro Light 100 dangling from her mouth as she stepped up to Trevor and looked over his creation in the frying pan.
“Smells great, baby!” Lauren exclaimed through the dangling cigarette, smoke spewing from her mouth and nose defiling the serene aroma of breakfast in a way that brought Trevor all the nourishment that he needed. “Is it almost ready?” she asked, making eye contact with Trevor and only then appreciating how enraptured he was with what he was seeing.
“As soon as you grab a plate and bring it over, it’ll be yours,” Trevor replied with a grin.
Lauren finally removed the cigarette from her mouth and leaned in to give Trevor an abrupt kiss on the forehead, responding, “Okay baby!” before going to the cupboard to fetch a plate. She returned and Trevor dropped the omelet on the plate with a spatula.
Trevor began to walk toward the dining room table but Lauren slowed his roll. “Not today. Gotta throw this thing down on the run.” She grinned at him as she put the first forkful of omelet into her mouth, winking as she said with her mouth full, “If only someone had tried waking me up earlier!”
Trevor watched as Lauren stood there holding her plate and scarfing down the omelet, picking up her cigarette from the ash can for a quick drag in between swallows of breakfast. He was mesmerized with how Lauren even at her least conventionally glamorous was still able to charm his breath away.
“So…” Trevor teased. “Any good at all?” he asked with a shrug, pretending to be insulted by the lack of verdict.
Lauren’s face lit up as she chewed, holding up her thumb to convey her acclaim for his creation. “You’ve outdone yourself with this one, Trevor!!” she exclaimed exaggeratedly with a follow-up giggle. “You want a bite?” she asked, holding a fork full of omelet up toward him.
Trevor shook his head. “No thanks. Those mushrooms are all yours.”
Lauren giggled and then changed the subject. “Remember, I got that doctor’s appointment at 11:30. Just a routine check-up. My mom’s been on my ass to get one,” she discussed.
Trevor nodded with the faintest hint of concern, knowing that on the rare occasions when Lauren went to the doctor, there was always considerable pressure to change her lifestyle. “Good luck with that,” he offered.
Lauren nodded with appreciation as she continued eating and then shifted the conversation toward him. “So whatcha got going on today?”
Trevor reverted to internal defensiveness as she asked the question he really hoped she wouldn’t. After a moment’s hesitation, he tried to joke his way out of it. “Going back to bed of course! After listening to you snoring all night, a guy’s gotta sleep some time!”
Lauren laughed, careful to avoid spitting out her food. “But seriously though. What’s on the agenda?”
Trevor stiffened his upper lip and replied with a white lie. “Well my monthly column for Minnesota Great Outdoors is due tomorrow so I’ll put the finishing touches on that…..and maybe call Stewart and see if he has any ideas for next month’s feature.”
Lauren masked her hesitation as she gulped down a bite of omelet, keeping her penetrating eyes trained on Trevor. “And your book of course?” she finally asked, making sure what Trevor left unspoken was at least touched upon.
“Of course,” Trevor retorted in a way he hoped would seem sincere even though he had been stuck in the mud with writer’s block on that novel for weeks now and had finished writing the monthly Great Outdoors column days ago.
Lauren nodded as she simultaneously chewed her food and dragged from her cigarette, her body language hinting that she didn’t think Trevor was telling her the full truth. She looked at her phone to see it was 7:43, at which point she set down the plate with the half-eaten omelet and said, “I gotta get going!” before picking up the two-thirds-smoked cigarette from the ash can and placing it back between her lips to resume dangling.
Trevor followed her as she progressed to the closet and slipped into her boots and took her favorite black leather jacket off the hangar. As she began to slip the jacket on, Trevor became even more aroused, smirking as he admired her while watching the leather from her jacket mold onto her upper body the way her leather leggings were already molded to her lower body.
“What’s will all the leather today?” Trevor asked with smug satisfaction.
Struggling to keep her lips hanging on to the filter of her cigarette stub, Lauren looked up to see the blend of mischief and arousal on Trevor’s face and briefly averted her hustle. She grinned back as she plucked the spent cigarette from her mouth and answered Trevor through the haze of smoke between them while crushing it out in the overflowing ash can.
“Look at the calendar, silly,” Lauren teased. “It’s the first day of fall.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Trevor responded. “September 22nd.”
“A girl’s gotta bring in the new season in style, you know?” Lauren played along with a wink, putting her hand on his bare chest and caressing it while noticing the erection springing to life inside his boxers. “You got a problem with that, Trevor?” she continued flirtatiously, pushing his buttons further and lowering her hand to his shorts.
“Not at all,” Trevor responded as she playfully stroked him. “It’ll certainly give me something to look forward to on the first ‘night’ of fall.”
Lauren giggled in agreement as she pulled her hand away from his crotch and got back to business.
“What time will you be home tonight anyway?” Trevor asked with a hint of apprehension.
A look of dread momentarily filled Lauren’s face just as it had Trevor’s a few minutes earlier when he told her a half-truth. “It’ll probably be before dark today but I can never really say for sure, you know” she responded, her flash of guilt telling on herself before she thought of a better alibi.
Trevor nodded with a measure of discontent. He’d been with Lauren long enough to know when she was keeping something from him but was too terrified to even consider calling her out about it.
“I’m gonna go to the gym after work today,” Lauren fibbed, her guilty look transitioning to a smirk as she turned her back to Trevor and pressed her ass toward his crotch. “Gotta keep this dump truck looking fine,” she teased, grinding her leather-draped backside into his bulging male anatomy.
Staring down and admiring, Trevor marveled at how incredible Lauren’s ass continued to look, particularly on the infrequent occasions when she wore leather. His unease from seconds earlier quickly dissipated as he enjoyed the moment and smacked his long-time girlfriend on the ass.
Lauren giggled as she pulled away, grateful that her distraction worked but refocusing on the ticking clock. “Sorry baby, but I reeeeeally have to go!” she reminded, opening up her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s to fetch out a fresh cigarette before putting the pack back into her purse.
“Just be sure you have enough energy to back that dump truck into me again whatever time you get home,” Trevor uttered cheekily as he approached the lighter to the tip of her cigarette.
Lauren giggled again and leaned in to accept the flame. “Thanks baby!” she responded through her dangling cigarette as she hastily ripped the lighter from Trevor’s hand. “Gotta go!” she concluded, opening the front door and stepping outside.
Trevor watched in slow motion as she disappeared, feeling the joy in his heart revert back to anguish as her leather-draped form disappeared behind the closed door. The return to anguish reached its completion as the cloud of her smoke left behind fully cleared. Trevor gulped, his doubts and insecurities racing back just as they did every day in Lauren’s absence. It was certainly possible that he would have some creative breakthrough today, but chances were the first day of fall was poised to be a carbon copy of the dog days of summer that preceded it. Stalling, foot-dragging, and accomplishing little of consequence were likely what awaited Trevor for the next eight to ten hours, along with no shortage of self-loathing every step of the way. Their shared home of the last two years, being financed entirely by Lauren’s income, would serve as the ironic crucible for that self-loathing that Trevor had no choice but to incubate in for the entire eight to ten hours.
Trevor drifted aimlessly back to the kitchen and picked up the plate with Lauren’s half-eaten omelet. He slumbered across to the trash can under the sink and dropped the uneaten food in the same place where his self-esteem laid dormant. His energy officially sagging, he yawned, his personal hell yielding to exhaustion. He sauntered in the direction of the bedroom, his gaze focused on the pillow where his head had rested sleeplessly for several hours. Lauren might have thought he was kidding when he told her he’d be going back to bed after she left for work, but he was being honest.
Trevor collapsed into the bed, welcoming the silence at the same time as he lamented Lauren’s absence. If she was there with him right now snoring on the adjacent pillow, Trevor probably wouldn’t be tired. But since she wasn’t there, he was absolutely exhausted. Maybe Trevor would make something of this day and maybe not, but whatever would come of the first day of fall would have to wait until he woke up from his mid-morning nap.
——————-
Steve McPherson closed the bathroom door at his family home, walking toward the stairs and tightening his belt over his work slacks as he progressed. Another stressful day as the head of his company’s IT department awaited, but first would come breakfast. The smell of eggs and maple syrup filled his senses as he descended the stairs, but it was the ever-present aroma of cigarette smoke that really brightened his smile, and just as was the case every morning, that cigarette aroma grew stronger with each step closer he got to the kitchen.
Steve’s heart filled with his pride as he entered the kitchen to see his wife, two daughters, and grandson either already eating or preparing to eat, the muffled voices of TV newscasters reporting the morning news in the background as always. Steve made eye contact with his wife Becky as she smiled at him.
“French toast coming in hot,” Becky announced, the stub of a mostly smoked Marlboro Red dangling from her lips as she stood over the frying pan. “You want one or two this morning?”
Steve didn’t answer for a moment, staring at his wife and admiring her graceful but accelerated pivot to middle age. She looked every one of her 48 years, her lifestyle and mental health condition having caught up to her with enhanced age lines and a head full of rapidly graying hair. Becky was still as beautiful as ever to Steve, but it broke his heart to silently acknowledge the sources of that aging decaying her vibrant body and mind.
“Earth to Steve!” Becky announced through her continued dangling cigarette, a raspy smoker’s cough following that both regained Steve’s attention and reinforced his guilt for his own role in his wife’s diminution.
“Oh, uh….let’s go with two today,” Steve finally responded, approaching Becky for a morning smooch and holding out with puckered lips for her to remove the expired cigarette butt from her mouth and crush it in the nearby ash can before briefly pressing their faces together.
His senses freshly dominated by Becky’s cigarette smoke, Steve sat down at the kitchen table amidst an even more aggressive smoky atmosphere orchestrated by daughters Courtney and Haylee, both of whom greeted him good morning as they tended to their own breakfasts.
Five-year-old grandson Anthony looked up from his breakfast briefly and greeted him. “Good morning grandpa,” Anthony offered, curiosity in his eyes as he progressed with his follow-up question. “Am I coming with you today?”
Steve smiled as he looked at his grandson whose close-cropped platinum blond hair rendered him the spitting image of Anthony’s father while still sporting an undeniable facial resemblance to Courtney. He deferred to Becky for the correct answer to Anthony’s inquiry. As Becky shook her head in the positive as she dropped two French toast onto her husband’s plate, Steve finally answered. “That’s right, buddy.”
Anthony smiled back, clearly thrilled at the idea of riding to work with grandpa and hanging out with his friends at the daycare in his office.
Puckering her lips around a freshly lit Marlboro Light Menthol 100, Courtney anxiously proceeded with an inquiry to her father. “Actually, dad. Would you mind taking him to the daycare with you tomorrow as well?” she asked, anticipating it might not go over well with others in the room as the cigarette smoke sprayed from her mouth and nose in her father’s direction.
Before Steve even had a chance to answer, Becky responded. “Courtney, I told you I’m not working tomorrow,” she reminded with a healthy dose of annoyance while fishing another Marlboro Red from her pack.
Courtney began to blush, having been called out by her mother just as feared. “Oh I know, mom,” she responded with a soft-spoken quiver. “It’s just that we’re going to the farm for the weekend after work tomorrow and I thought it would be easier to just pick Anthony up from dad’s office and head out…..if you don’t mind.”
Becky gave Courtney a cold and lengthy stare as she lit her new cigarette, a smoky cloak surrounding her face that added to the intimidation factor of her glare that ultimately yielded to clearly hurt feelings as she had a pretty good idea what this was all about. She wanted to confront Courtney about this and knew that at some point she would, but not here in front of Steve and Anthony. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have him here with me tomorrow, Courtney,” she asserted before shifting her eyes to her grandson. “Anthony and I are gonna go pick some apples with the neighbors tomorrow aren’t we?” she asked Anthony is a softer tone.
Anthony smiled back and nodded, vaguely intimidated by grandma’s gruff tone that contrasted with her warmness, especially when sensing the tension in the kitchen about his whereabouts. He quickly retreated to his coloring book and the last bite of his breakfast.
Courtney dragged from her cigarette, her concern written all over her face but not willing to choose this fight today. “Yeah, that’s fine I suppose. I’ll bring him here in the morning,” she surrendered despite an internal conflict clear to everybody in the room.
Becky nodded, still hurt by her increasing concern that Courtney was losing trust in her ability to ensure her grandson’s safety when babysitting him. She took another soothing drag from her cigarette, a quick and reflexive cough soon following, before sitting down to eat her own French toast.
Steve decided to change the subject and cut the tension, nudging Courtney. “So how are things going on week three at school?”
Courtney smiled, eager as always to interact with her father. and doing so with particular pride now that she was working her first professional job as an elementary school psychologist. “Oh, I’m still finding my footing but I couldn’t ask for a better mentor than Mrs. Acevedo. I definitely have a lot to learn if I’m gonna take over when she retires next year.”
Steve felt the pride coursing through his body as he listened to Courtney speak, briefly exchanging eye contact with Becky as a reminder of their past doubts about Courtney’s ability to parlay a psychology degree into a job. He couldn’t have been happier that Courtney proved them wrong. “I bet you never imagined back in high school that you’d be 24 years old and still going back to school in September.”
Courtney exhaled a stream of smoke from the corner of her mouth with a sly grin. “And if this works out, maybe I’ll still be going back to school every September when I’m 54 years old,” she mused with a smile that quickly evaporated with the latest somber mental check of her mother’s hereditary dementia condition that put all speculation about her long-term future in question.
Steve looked at his watch, realizing he had to go soon, but turned to youngest daughter Haylee sitting quietly at the edge of the table, taking her last bite from a bowl of cereal. “How about you, Haylee?” Steve asked. “How’s junior year at the U of M going?”
A startled Haylee made brief eye contact with her father, awakening from her daydream with a hint of withdrawn despair. She focused her eyes on her pack of Camel Pink No. 9s as she plucked one out and placed it between her lips. “Pretty much the same as sophomore year so far,” she answered dismissively before flicking her cigarette to life.
Steve just nodded along, appreciating that he wasn’t getting the full story from Haylee but not having the time to press. He turned to Anthony who was still using his bright green crayon to color the tractor in his coloring book. “Time to get going, buddy,” he reminded, ruffling his hand through Anthony’s blond hair. “I gotta get to work.”
Anthony smiled and quickly gathered his crayons and coloring book to accompany grandpa to his favorite daycare. Courtney gave her son a goodbye hug and kiss and then Becky did the same before bidding Steve and Anthony farewell. The two of them disappeared out the door, leaving only the ladies left at the kitchen table, each wielding their cigarette brand of choice between their fingers and a hint of lingering awkwardness.
Courtney decided to break the temporary silence. “I still can’t believe they wanted him to wait a year to start kindergarten. I think he’s more than ready now,” she offered, in reference to Anthony.
Becky nodded while exhaling a stream of smoke that hung over the table, warming up to Courtney’s peace offering while still letting her line in the sand be known. “I agree. He’s as smart as his mama was 20 years ago and should be in school…..but if he waits till next year and that means more time to spend with his grandma, that’s not such a bad thing.”
Courtney dragged from her cigarette, realizing she had hurt her mother but still quietly clung to her misgivings. She smiled and nodded, appreciating that her mother’s desire to babysit Anthony was coming from a place that was deeply genuine.
Another moment of awkward silence hung in the air as both Becky and Courtney looked in Haylee’s direction, observing her quietly looking through her phone with her trademark pink-filtered cigarette dangling from her lips and pretending not to notice her mother and sister’s stares. Something felt off about Haylee to both Becky and Courtney as she seemed more isolated and withdrawn than usual.
The voice from the TV captured Becky and Courtney’s attention amidst the silence. “In health news, the new administration has just announced it will begin the FDA process to ban the sale of menthol cigarettes and flavored cigars. They say the move will protect millions of young people, advance health equity, and save lives. It will be an extended process not likely to be finalized for at least a couple of years, but the administration is confident–“
“Can you believe that?!” Becky exploded with righteous indignation. “They’re just gonna ban cigarettes! At the same time as they’re telling us drugs are fine and they’re gonna legalize them! People in this country have completely lost their minds!” she closed, checking herself upon realizing the unfortunate irony of her own condition.
Courtney shook her head in disagreement. “Honestly, I’m looking forward to it. The day they ban menthols is the day I’ve smoked my last cigarette!” she proclaimed while taking a final drag from her Marlboro Light Menthol 100 and theatrically crushing it out in the ash can.
Becky’s anger escalated as she argued. “It’s not just about you, Courtney! It’s about whether we get to decide the way we go out or if somebody else gets to choose”, she insisted with greater morbid relevance than in years past when she made the same argument about cigarettes. She then pivoted back to Courtney. “Besides, you’ve been talking about quitting smoking for years now. Do you really think banning menthols will be what makes it stick?”
Courtney nodded confidently. “Nonmenthols are gross! If all that’s left is you and Haylee’s brands, quitting smoking will be the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” she insisted. “A menthol ban would be the hand of fate insisting to me that it’s time!”
Becky shook her head in frustration. “Well I certainly hope you are able to quit without having to force a fascist prohibition on the rest of us!”
Becky then looked up to Haylee, still quietly looking at her phone on the other side of the table, half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips. “You gonna quit smoking if they ban menthols, Haylee?” Becky asked lightheartedly in hopes of engaging her youngest daughter.
Haylee looked up with a little more interest than usual given the topic, responding with an indifferent shrug. “I don’t smoke menthols so it’s not gonna change my life,” she answered, puckering her lips around the filter and producing a burst of cloudy smoke and a soft smoker’s cough.
“Yeah but I just read RJ Reynolds is planning to discontinue your Camel Pinks,” Becky reminded. “You and your sister gonna quit together?”
Haylee chuckled with a hint of frustration as if the world was piling on against her. “Definitely a no on that one,” she asserted, reinforced by the cigarette stubbornly clinging to her lips. “I’ll smoke whatever I guess, but if they’re really ditching the Pinks I’ll go to the cigarette factory myself and buy their last truckload.”
Becky and Courtney laughed at Haylee’s trademark defiance just before Courtney was distracted once again by an image on the television.
Amidst footage of a familiar haunt, the newscaster delivered the news that cut straight into Courtney’s heart. “Meanwhile, the troubled Willow Creek Mall in the west metro is being primed for demolition next spring as part of a development plan with two dozen new condos and townhouses slated to replace the mall. Once one of the metro’s most successful shopping centers, Willow Creek has fallen upon hard times in the era of online retail and has only a handful of remaining stores. Developers say they will make early preparations for the mall’s demolition right after the mall closes its doors at the end of the month.”
“That’s awful!” Courtney blurted out in genuine despair for the mall where she had once shopped and worked. “I spent half my life in that place.”
The heaviness filling Courtney’s heart was visible to her mother who tried halfheartedly to console as she took a final drag from her Marlboro Red 100 and crushed it out in the ash can. “Sorry, Courtney. Surprised you hadn’t heard about this until now.”
“It was struggling when House of Leathers closed five years ago…” Courtney responded, referencing her former workplace. “…but I had no idea things had gotten that bad.”
“Well how long since you were last there?” Becky asked. “I mean, have you been there since you left House of Leathers?”
Courtney’s brain buffered for a couple moments as she pondered, a surge of guilt filling her heart as she realized she hadn’t been. “Probably not,” she whispered softly with shame.
“I guess you have your answer why it’s closing then,” Becky twisted the knife. “Apparently, nobody else has gone there in that time either.”
Courtney sunk in her chair, reaching to her pack of Marlboro Light Menthol 100s to assuage her guilt. She fetched one out and sparked it up, her intense drag and pleasured facial response giving considerable doubt regarding her seriousness about quitting smoking as she insisted she would.
Haylee stood up, lighting another cigarette of her own and rendering the airspace encircling the kitchen table with maximal air pollution. “I’m off,” she announced curtly as if taking this moment of distraction as an opportunity to peel out.
“Have a good day, Haylee,” Becky bid farewell. “You have your house key to get inside this afternoon right? I’m working today so you’ll probably get home before me.”
Haylee flashed a heartfelt smile at her mother, genuinely grateful for Becky’s kind maternal soul even though Haylee was not in the mood for it today. “Got it covered, mom,” Haylee muttered, her cigarette bouncing up and down from her dangling lips as she spoke with a split second of loving eye contact that was a bit outside her wheelhouse. “Good luck at work today.”
Becky watched with a sense of dread as Haylee, decked out in her pink tanktop and white jean shorts clinging to the final throes of summer as she always did this time of year, zipped out the front door.
Courtney distracted Becky’s observation by standing up and announcing her own departure. “Time for me to fly too,” she announced, a blast of menthol cigarette smoke erupting from her mouth and nose. She slowed down to look her mother in the eye and offer a sincere farewell. “Best of luck at work today, okay mom,” she concluded, leaning forward to give her mother a soft kiss on the forehead.
Becky tried not to let it get under her skin, but she froze for a second before offering a return farewell greeting. “Same for you,” she offered as warmly as she could muster and not tip her hand that she was annoyed.
Courtney waved as she walked out the door only seconds after her younger sister did. “Thanks again for breakfast, mom,” she announced halfway out the door, juggling her briefcase full of files and her purse with her cigarette hanging from her mouth. “See you in the morning with Anthony.”
“Bye Courtney!” Becky bid final farewell observing her oldest daughter disappear out of sight toward her car in professional clothing that contrasted sharply with Haylee’s casual look.
Becky then lit another cigarette and took a deep opening drag consistent with her heavy emotional load. She couldn’t have been more proud of Courtney, defying the odds and turning her psychology degree into a job at an elementary school where she was poised to do some real good. Still, ever since Courtney got this job, Becky felt judged and condescended to about her mental health problems. Whether intentional or not, Courtney’s passive-aggressive posture and language implying diminished aptitude to babysit her grandson or fulfill her reduced-responsibility nursing consultant job at the hospital was intensifying Becky’s defensiveness.
The hardest part for Becky to accept was that Courtney might be right. She’d been having more concerning moments in recent months, sometimes bordering on erratic. Her early onset frontotemporal dementia was manifesting itself in new and unpredictable ways, and Courtney wasn’t wrong to be worried. Still, Becky wasn’t about to just roll over and prepare to die. She wasn’t gonna merely accept that just since Courtney was at the beginning of her professional career that it meant her own professional career needed to end. She took another aggressive drag from her Marlboro Red and looked to the clock. She didn’t have to be to work until 1 p.m. but she was gonna make sure she was on the top of her game when she was.
Becky went to the living room and pulled an old medical journal from a dusty old bookshelf near the fireplace. One of the other nurses asked her a question the other day and she wanted to be sure to have the right answer on the tip of her tongue when she got there. She went back to the kitchen table where the light was best and slipped on her reading glasses. Taking a drag from her cigarette, she opened up the journal and paged through to the area she knew the relevant information would be. As the smoke rolled out of her face, she dug her heels in, determined to show up to work with the feedback the junior nurse requested. Breakfast dishes and everything else would have to wait until she found what she was looking for.
———————-
Lauren sat at her desk in the makeshift office built for her in the corner of her parents’ garage. She stared intently at the computer screen and overlooked the list of clients slated to receive shipments from her father’s plumbing parts business, firing off emails from some clients and confirming purchase orders from others.
After clicking “send” on the short email she just responded to, she reached over to the large glass ashtray where her half-smoked Marlboro Light 100 sat on the lip and approached it to her mouth. Having gone untended for the 60 seconds or so she spent typing out the email, Lauren dragged hard to ensure the ember was still burning, her lips sucking on the filter with the highest level of intensity to fill her body with the nicotine it demanded. A wave of relief consumed her face as the nicotine filled her bloodstream. The streams of smoke exited her face with force as she simultaneously pumped on the cigarette again, a cloud of smoke hovering in front of her face so dense that she temporarily couldn’t read the words and figures on the computer screen.
It was chilly in her garage “office” this morning. She shivered for a moment and looked up to the electric heater installed overhead and temporarily considered turning it on. But as she considered that the Minnesota autumn which had only officially begun today would get much chillier in the weeks to come, she decided against it. Besides, she had a reputation to maintain as the girl who never got cold. She giggled to herself as she considered the guff Trevor would give her if she turned her heater on in September. Still, she at least needed to put her jacket back on. Placing her cigarette stub between her lips and dragging from it as she moved, she stood up and lifted her leather jacket off the back of her chair and then slipped it on to her upper body. She sat back down and stubbed the cigarette out into the glass ashtray loaded with dozens of its expired companions, the garage now even more dense with smoke.
Lauren smiled, comfortable again and reminded how much she loved the freedom her workspace afforded her. Her father had brought her onboard four years ago after she finished high school, making permanent a gig she’d done more casually up to that point. Ever since she was a teenager, she’d signed off on shipments sent to Craig’s home address that reduced shipping rates compared to if they’d been sent to the business address. She felt a little guilty because she hadn’t done anything to earn her position as shipping manager for the family business other than being Craig and Michelle’s daughter, with the added logistical convenience of her being able to work from the home address in a way nobody else could.
Still, with an income approaching six figures and the kind of flexibility and freedom that she wouldn’t find anywhere else, her guilt about nepotism took a backseat to self-fulfillment. She smirked as she picked up her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s and removed another cigarette. Briefly admiring the visual representation of her freedom, Lauren placed the cigarette between her lips and lit it, savoring the smoke with unspoken gratitude that she wasn’t beholden to a conventional office typing pool to earn her slice of daily bread.
Lauren was briefly startled by a knock on the window outside the garage door. “It’s Dennis. Got some packages for you to sign for today,” announced a male voice from outdoors.
Lauren smiled. “Come on in,” she announced to their long-time mail carrier, as she stood up, freshly lit cigarette in hand, and drifted toward the “packages received” table in the garage where she signed off for incoming packages.
A middle-aged man in a postal uniform stepped inside, his beaming smile indicative of a mailman who was making a delivery to his favorite address on the mail route. As he ventured through the haze of acrid smoke and laid eyes on Lauren approaching him, he did his best to conceal his arousal. This was no easy task even when Lauren dressed down, but he was really taken aback today to see her decked out in a matching black leather jacket and leather leggings, coupled with the ever-reliable cigarette between her fingers.
“Hey Dennis,” Lauren greeted with her trademark warmth that seemed slightly out of place with her husky voice. “Looks like I’ll get a cramp in my hand from all the signatures you’ll need from me today,” she said with a playful giggle as she looked at the pile of packages Dennis was setting on the table.
Dennis paused for a second, his body tingling from the effortless charm Lauren evoked and the duality of it being coupled with a blast of cigarette smoke unintentionally flowing from Lauren’s mouth to his face. It was a spectacle that Dennis would have found disgusting coming from anybody else but this perky little blond slice of sunshine who managed to make it both flattering and intoxicating. After pulling himself together and letting out a nervous laugh, he responded. “Well, hopefully you have some ice to soak your hand in if it gets cramped.”
Lauren grinned, thinking it was cute that their grandfatherly mailman flirted with her. Dragging from her cigarette again, she looked at the first of the half dozen packages in the pile. “Just tell me where I sign,” she asked with pen in hand, placing her cigarette between her lips and dangling.
Dennis guided her along, taking advantage of her moments of distraction as he always did to stealthly admire Lauren’s form as she leaned forward to sign each individual package. Her figure was sculpted even more stunningly than usual today in the tight-fitting black leather, and he found himself a tick jealous of this “Trevor” guy who he knew was Lauren’s boyfriend. His eyes then gravitated to her face as she worked the cigarette with such stunning familiarity. Dennis had been delivering packages to the Nelson home for Lauren to sign since she was a mid-teen wearing a poolside bikini, and it struck him that in all these years, he’d never once seen her without a cigarette. It fascinated him that such an unlikely girl would take to such a nasty habit to this considerable degree in an era where smoking prevalence was rapidly declining. He’d danced around the topic with her just a bit over the years, but never got the full backstory that he craved.
Cigarette still dangling from her lips, Lauren signed the final package and smiled at Dennis as she handed him his pen back with smoke spewing from her face and a follow-up smoker’s cough that served as an exclamation point to her duality.
“Anything outgoing today?” Dennis asked.
Lauren nervously nodded in the negative, finally removing the dangling cigarette from her lips. “No, I’ll be stopping by the post office to send the outgoing packages tomorrow. Maybe reduce the chances of an audit if we don’t push our luck too much.”
Dennis laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. A lot of businesses like your parents are taking advantage of this home delivery loophole nowadays. It’s keeping me busy with more packages than ever. I’d be more worried about lawmakers closing the loophole than you or your family getting in legal trouble for it.”
Lauren shrugged with a mix of playfulness and modest apprehension. “I sure hope you don’t get here one day to find me getting hauled off in handcuffs,” she added half-jokingly.
Dennis laughed. “Well the cops may well be coming for you but chances are it’ll be for something other than this.”
Lauren giggled, nodding in agreement as she took another drag from her cigarette. “I hope you’re wrong about lawmakers maybe closing the loophole. I don’t want to give up my little ‘she shed” here!”
Dennis nodded in vigorous agreement. “I wouldn’t either. It won’t be till the day I retire that I get the kind of freedom you have at your job. You must love the flexibility.”
“Definitely!” Lauren responded, energized at further reinforcement of how lucky she was until the topic reminded her of another pending obligation. She looked at the clock and confirmed. “Speaking of which, I’m glad you got here at your usual time today because I gotta cut out for a doctor’s appointment at 11.”
“Oh that sounds like fun!” Dennis responded sarcastically, unable to resist looking at Lauren’s cigarette as an example of why it might not be fun for her at all.
Lauren rolled her eyes as she took a final drag from her cigarette, walking toward the ashtray and bending over to crush it out, giving Dennis a final opening to admire her leather-draped ass. “I’m pretty sure yours is the last friendly face I’m gonna see until I’m out of that hospital today,” she added with a giggle.
After a split second of wrestling with whether to say it or not, Dennis decided to let it out. “Well maybe he’ll think twice about saying anything that might upset you out of fear you’ll crack out a whip.”
Lauren seemed confused until Dennis made it clear with his eye movements that he was referring to her leather outfit. Lauren doubled over with boisterous laughter when she finally got it, the cigarette smoke erupting from her face like a volcano. “You know, I hadn’t thought of that this morning when I put it on, but maybe my subconscious was telling me to freak the doctor out to keep him from judging my lifestyle too harshly,” she added with another giggle.
Dennis felt energized by their banter but knew the hourglass had run out on today’s session. “Well, let me know tomorrow if it worked. Good luck, Lauren,” he greeted as he headed for the door.
“See you tomorrow, Dennis,” Lauren responded, still tickled about their back and forth portraying her as a dominatrix and wondering if Trevor had made the same observation.
As Dennis opened the door to exit the garage, he took one more look over his shoulder. Just as expected, Lauren was already picking up her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s to extract another cigarette. He had no idea how she did it, but part of him hoped her doctor would be unsuccessful in convincing her to quit smoking. Then he shook his head as he marveled at how crazy that thought was and how he had never felt it about any other smoker he ever met than this blond spitfire.
As the door closed and Dennis exited, Lauren dragged nervously from her freshly lit cigarette, realizing she had to get rolling to make this appointment. She looked at her computer and recognized that, despite what she had told Trevor before leaving home, the rest of her workload would have to wait for tomorrow as she wouldn’t be returning. She had a reward planned for herself after leaving the appointment with her doctor, but the nature of that reward made her feel no less guilty than the lifestyle choices she’d have to defend to her doctor.
————–
Lauren was nervous as she sat in a small chamber in her doctor’s office, waiting for Dr. Milhaus to give her the cue.
“Okay, go ahead and breathe into the tube now,” the soft-spoken middle-aged doctor requested.
Her nose clipped tight, Lauren wrapped her lips around the mouthpiece of the spirometer and exhaled.
“Okay, now inhale….as deep as you can,” instructed Dr. Milhaus.
Lauren again inhaled as requested, starting to feel a little agitated after 40 minutes without a cigarette.
“Alright, now exhale again,” Dr. Milhaus instructed. “I’ll have you do this three times for a complete test.”
Lauren continued to do as asked, keeping her eyes trained on Dr. Milhaus to gauge his response. While he kept a pretty good poker face, she could sense the concern in his eyes.
“That’s good,” Dr. Milhaus said after the third inhale, holding his hand up as a cue for Lauren to release her oral grip on the mouthpiece. He stared blankly at the screen for a couple of moments and wrote down the sets of numbers.
The suspense was killing Lauren. She both wanted to know the results….and didn’t. As Dr. Milhaus averted his gaze her direction, she felt a “you’re in trouble now, young lady” vibe cast upon her that wasn’t unexpected, but still left her unsettled.
“So how did I do?” Lauren asked with as much spunk as she could muster, even though she picked up on her own intimidation in the sound of her voice.
“I’ll be honest. It’s not great,” opened Dr. Milhaus. “You’re pulmonary functioning is down 5% from your last visit two years ago…and it’s about 20% below what’s expected of a healthy young person your age.”
Lauren listened without comment, spooked but keeping a stiff upper lip as she continued to listen.
“The good news is you’re young and the body has a remarkable ability to recover from being beaten up in the teenage and young adult years if the patient amends their behavior,” Dr. Milhaus continued, pausing for dramatic effect. “You have to cut down on the tobacco use, Lauren. How much did you say you smoke?”
Lauren gulped. “Like a pack and a half a day,” she lowballed.
Dr. Milhaus nodded with a familiar skepticism, figuring Lauren was underreporting tobacco use just as every other smoker who set foot in his office did. “Well that’s a considerable amount of cigarettes for anybody, especially when accumulated over multiple years. How old did you say you were when you started smoking?”
“Fourteen,” Lauren replied, and then clarified. “But I didn’t smoke this much at that age, of course.”
Dr. Milhaus nodded. “Right. Still, eight years of smoking with several of those years as a heavy smoker starts to add up pretty quickly. How seriously have you thought about quitting?”
Lauren hesitated, doing her best to evoke her usual bubbly cheerfulness to manipulate her doctor any way she could. “Well, I can’t remember if I told you last time I was here, but I made a promise to my mom when I was 17 that I would quit when I was her age,” she explained. “I’d tried to quit a number of times up to that point, but since then, I’ve kind of just looked at that moment as my “must quit” date…if that makes sense. So I’ve kind of been putting the idea off until I’m 40…..or technically 41 I guess,” she added with a nervous giggle.
The unflappable Dr. Milhaus didn’t break his stone-faced demeanor as he responded. “Lauren, you would have a very substantial number of pack years under your belt smoking at the rate you do until you’re 40. With your lung capacity diminished to the degree it is already, I don’t think you can wait that long before more serious lung health problems set in.”
Lauren stubbornly attempted to back her way out of the corner and outsmart her doctor. “I work out a lot though, doctor. And skate in the winter. I feel great most days and I really think it’s helping me to stay active. Do you think it’s actually having the opposite effect?”
“Being active always helps,” Dr. Milhaus replied. “But in your case, all of the activity might make the difference between your pulmonary functioning only being down 20% rather than 30%. Either way, that puts you in the danger zone for being only 22 years old.”
Lauren hung her head down in retreat as she listened, an instinct that carried with her since her years of being relentlessly bullied in middle school.
“As I said, you still have time to reverse the worst of this, Lauren,” Dr. Milhaus reminded her. “And this day and age, you have more smoking cessation options than ever before, and many of them are quite effective. I can have my nurse break down some of the best options before you leave today and you can check back in with me in three months to give you a chance to decide what works best for you. How does that sound?”
Lauren exhaled, expecting to face considerable pressure to quit even though she wasn’t ready to, and tried to slip out of the noose with levity. “Not as good as waiting until my mom’s age to quit,” she finally answered in a lighthearted tone.
Dr. Milhaus remained stone-faced, expressing his lack of amusement. “There’s nothing more intimidating for a heavy smoker than facing the reality of having to quit. I get that. But the longer you smoke, the harder it’s gonna be. It’s not like you’ll be able to just flip a switch at age 40, no matter how sincere you are in your expectation.”
For the first time, Lauren felt a hint of resentment and expressed it with direct eye contact. “I made a promise to my mother that I would quit, doctor,” she firmly conveyed. “I keep my promises.”
The fire in Lauren’s eyes seemed genuine to Dr. Milhaus and he just nodded, not confident he was getting through to her how serious the situation was poised to get if she continued on her current course. “Hear my nurse out and we’ll put you to work on keeping that promise, okay Lauren?” he asked, standing up and preparing to head out to his next appointment. “And we’ll see you here again in three months.”
Lauren’s face began to brighten, knowing the worst of the inquisition was over. “Sounds like a plan,” she responded, even though she had no intention of seeing Dr. Milhaus again that soon or in taking the nurse’s quit-smoking literature seriously for the near future. She stood up and followed him out the door as he pointed in the direction of his nurse at the front desk.
Ten minutes later, after halfheartedly listening to the nurse go over quit-smoking options, a liberated Lauren stepped out the front door of the hospital. She inhaled with more fervor than she did into the spirometer and took in the noon sunshine that glistened upon her silky blond hair and the weathered features of a girl who was still drop-dead gorgeous but who was instantly identifiable as a heavy smoker even to an amateur. She reached into her purse and fished out her sunglasses, placing them over her eyes with a flourish before returning her hand into her purse for the accessory that would both complement her look and satisfy a fierce craving. Her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s opened, Lauren placed an unlit cigarette between her lips and sparked it to life, fully aware she was violating the hospital’s smoke-free campus rules and being proud to do so.
With the spunk of an action heroine and the moxie of a pop star, Lauren strutted in the direction of her car. She was fully aware that every head was turning her direction as she walked past, taking in the badassery of her entire aesthetic from the leather-on-leather outfit to the sunglasses to the dangling cigarette. Even before the reminder by way of this invasive appointment with her doctor, Lauren was under no illusion that smoking was considered cool these days. This just meant she took a little extra initiative now and then to preserve its iconic past that was so regularly reinforced by her relationship with Trevor, and to glamorize a little for the crowd.
Surviving a visit to her doctor and setting off to her post-appointment reward, this felt like the perfect time to turn the hospital parking lot into a catwalk, the cigarette dangling from her lips like a model from a 1990s Calvin Klein ad. After being reminded of the toll smoking was taking on her health, part of her knew that flaunting her cigarette like a talisman of rebellion in front of impressionable young eyes was wrong, but the lectures from Dr. Milhaus and his nurse needed a counterpoint, damn it.
Lauren enjoyed making a spectacle of herself en route to her fire engine red Mazda MX-Miata that she bought last spring. She unlocked the car with her key fob and decided today was a perfect day to drive with the top down, pushing another button and watching the cabriolet unfold. She opened the car door and prepared to step inside, the sunshine illuminating three burn holes in the upholstery that she had been responsible for in her first five months of driving the new wheels. Before taking a seat, she finally removed the cigarette from her lips and made sure to ash it in hopes of preventing the inevitable fourth accident.
Lauren sat down and admired her reflection in the rear view mirror, feeling more vain and more self-conscious than usual after her runway strut. The appointment was over and it was a fresh start on a beautiful day. She exhaled perfect smoke rings and admired them in the mirror, liking what she was seeing in the reflection until she thought of Trevor and then quickly looked away, no longer proud of her own image.
She then paid heed to her cell phone, preparing to call Trevor and let him know that she finished her appointment with her doctor, but also mentally preparing herself for the untruths she’d have to tell him about the rest of her day.
“Hey baby,” she greeted with an even more distinct husky flair than usual.
She waited for Trevor to respond and then continued.
“It went pretty much as I knew it would,” Lauren explained. “You gotta quit smoking….take this test…yadda, yadda, yadda….we’ll send you out the door with some literature on quitting. It was the same as every doctor’s appointment I’ve been to since I was 14,” she deceptively shorthanded to ensure Trevor would believe all was well.
She listened to Trevor’s response, dragging from her cigarette and becoming visibly less patient before interrupting.
“Well, let’s talk about this more when I get home, okay baby? I was just letting you know everything’s fine but I gotta get back to the office,” she cut things off, feeling guilty as her words and her residual cigarette smoke spilled from her mouth, having no intention of returning to the office today as she told him. “Be home as early as I can baby. I think some playtime is in order to celebrate, what do you think?”
She giggled at Trevor’s response.
“I didn’t figure you’d say no to that,” she replied to Trevor’s retort. “See you then baby and be sure to keep those boxers on that you were wearing when I left okay?” she added with a mischievous giggle.
Just as she ended the call with Trevor, another incoming call redirected her attention. The name “Karla Sanchez” popped up on her caller ID and Lauren knew this was probably serious.
“Hello….Karla?” Lauren responded after taking the call.
She listened to the frantic and borderline hysterical feedback from Karla, trying to make out the broken English as she jumbled some words in her haste to convey the nature of her emotional breakdown.
“Just breathe, Karla. I’m here for you,” Lauren consoled. “You’re at home now, right?” she asked. After getting Karla’s response, Lauren continued. “Don’t go anywhere. Try to stay away from the windows. And definitely don’t let him in. I can be at your door in 15 or 20 minutes.”
After listening to Karla tell her to get there soon, Lauren assured her she would and then hung up the phone. Lauren took an intense drag and exhaled as she started her Mazda and put it in gear. This was the situation Lauren promised to drop everything for when the time came, and that time was now. Another sexual assault victim needed her help, and Karla would be her top priority until she felt safe again. The reward she had intended to give herself after her doctor’s appointment was gonna have to wait.
——————–
Haylee sat solemnly in her car in a University of Minnesota parking lot, compulsively twisting her long light brown hair around her index finger. The Camel Pink No. 9 cigarette dangling from her lips only partially obscured the fear and anxiety on her youthful but weathered face. Her fateful hearing with the campus disciplinary committee was still two hours away, but she had no place to be until then and wasn’t in the mood to drive aimlessly around the city any longer.
As she let her mind wander to the consequential implications of this disciplinary hearing going the wrong way, as she expected was the most likely outcome, Haylee felt a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She puckered her lips around the dangling cigarette amidst her dark daydream and the rudimentary draw lines forming around her lips further gave away her trepidation. She shook herself back out of the daydream, realizing she’d drive herself crazy dwelling on this for two more full hours. She picked up her phone and prepared to reach out for a lifeline.
After letting the phone dial a few times, Haylee’s husky voice let out a familiar greeting to a long-time friend. “Hey girl. What are you up to today?” Haylee asked out of the left corner of her mouth while her cigarette bobbed up and down with each spoken syllable from the right corner.
“In between classes, of course,” Carly Hansen responded with a hint of confusion, pushing her long light brown hair over her left shoulder as she propped her backpack over her right shoulder.
Haylee grimaced as she realized she’d already accidentally revealed that she wasn’t in class as she was supposed to be, but cleaned up her story quickly. “Yeah me too. Figured it would be a good time for a quick call.”
“Uh, yeah sure,” Carly replied, a bit distracted as she weaved through the ruckus of St. Cloud State University students bustling between buildings to their next class. “What’s on your mind, Haylee?”
“Just wondering if you’re up for a road trip this weekend,” Haylee offered. “It’s supposed to be peak fall colors already along the North Shore of Lake Superior and I could really use a camping buddy.”
Carly smiled as she listened. “That sounds like fun, Haylee, but my soccer team has a game in Wisconsin this weekend. I won’t be able to come unless you just want to make a day trip of it on Sunday.”
Haylee frowned even though the news wasn’t unexpected, dragging again from her dangling cigarette. “No, I need to get out of here longer than just one day,” she offered, hoping that the melancholy in her voice might help change Carly’s mind.
“Everything okay?” Carly asked, picking up on Haylee’s pensive tone.
Haylee paused for a moment, contemplating whether she should lay everything out here and now but ultimately deciding not to. “Yeah…” she said as convincingly as she could muster. “Just need a weekend on the road to clear my mind.”
“Ohhh,” Carly said sympathetically. “You know I’d go if I could but it’s just not a weekend I can make it work.”
“Sure, no problem,” Haylee reassured, camouflaging her disappointment that her cry for help was going unheard. “Running around on a soccer field would actually be better for me than a road trip so I understand,” she added lightheartedly with a chuckle.
Carly chuckled in response. “You’re welcome to come here if you want to see me play,” she offered. “I don’t think they’ll actually let you play with a Pink hanging from your mouth but I can introduce you to my friends after the game.”
Haylee laughed again, puckering her lips around the stub of her current “Pink”, leading the granny ash to fall onto her white shorts. “I’ll give it some thought,” she responded, legitimately considering the offer as it would be better than facing the weekend alone.
“I’d love to see you here, Haylee. Just let me know,” Carly replied. “Right now, I gotta get to economics class so I’ll have to let you go. What class are you heading to next?”
Haylee froze for a second, looking at the clock as a reminder of what class she should be going to right now. “Uh, business writing,” she responded.
“Well, whether you end up coming to see me this weekend or going to see the fall colors, I’ll be thinking of you. Hit me up with a call whenever, okay?” Carly closed.
“Of course,” Haylee replied with resurfacing dread in her tone that she quickly course-corrected. “Love ya, girl. We’ll keep in touch.”
“Love ya, too, Haylee. Bye,” Carly bid adieu to her best friend and hung up the phone, entering the lecture hall for her economics class.
Haylee sighed with anguish as she plucked a fresh cigarette from her pack of Camel Pink No. 9s and placed it between her lips, lighting it with the butt of her nearly expired cigarette and puckering up her mouth for another deep dangling drag. Her ensuing smoker’s cough was all the evidence she needed that she shouldn’t be anywhere near a soccer field. She still wanted to escape on a fall-colors road trip, leaving her worries at home and not having to deal with people, but with her best friend out, her options for making that happen were limited.
Haylee looked at the contact list on her phone and the name “Lauren” stood out. Best friends through high school, they began to grow apart when Lauren started working and moved in with Trevor. They still enjoyed each other’s company when they hung out, but those occasions had become fewer and further between. Still, Lauren was a good listener and a good shoulder to lean on when life dealt her a right hook. She didn’t like her chances of convincing Lauren to come along, but it was least worth a try, she thought to herself as she pressed the call icon under Lauren’s name in her phone’s contact list.
“Hey Lauren!” Haylee greeted with spunk. “How’s your Thursday going?”
Lauren was distracted as she turned left from a commercial street onto a crumbling residential lane. She looked at the sign reading Riverside Mobile Home Park and knew she was in the right place before gingerly navigating her car onto the pothole-strewn pavement. “Uh, hey Haylee. Everything okay?” Lauren inquired through the bluetooth connection of her phone, so rare had it become to get a cold call from Haylee.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s fine,” Haylee replied through her dangling cigarette, listening to Lauren’s car getting bounced around the unkempt roadway. “Is everything okay with you? It sounds like you’re driving through a pasture.”
Lauren giggled nervously as she tried to maintain control of her vehicle, watching as the granny ash from her half-smoked Marlboro Light 100 dropped to the floor from the rough ride. “I pretty much am!” she confessed but quickly changed the subject so she wouldn’t have to explain herself. “Anyway, what’s up?” she asked, bringing the cigarette to her lips for a drag.
“I know you’re probably busy but I thought I’d at least offer to have a girls’ weekend road trip to the North Shore to see the fall colors,” Haylee asked, fully expecting rejection.
“Uh…” Lauren stalled, paying attention to the numbers on the trailer houses so she’d know when she reached her destination. “I don’t think this will be a good weekend, Haylee,” she responded without even pressing for further details. “We should definitely pick another weekend to hang out though.”
“Definitely,” Haylee responded halfheartedly and in defeat, getting the reaction from Lauren that she expected. “Just thought I’d put it out there,” she continued, her tone tipping off Lauren that there was something heavy on Haylee’s mind.
“Have you asked Carly?” Lauren asked. “She might wanna go.”
“Yeah, she’s got soccer this weekend. Looks like I’ll be making this road trip solo tomorrow afternoon,” Haylee added with a hint of sadness.
As distracted as Lauren was trying to find Karla Sanchez’s place in this run-down trailer park, she remembered the occasions when she was the one reaching out to Haylee for a human connection and not breaking through. Haylee’s vibe felt similar right now. “I’d sure hate to have you go up there by yourself, Haylee. I definitely wouldn’t be able to take off tomorrow if you’re committed to that though.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Haylee replied, smoke pouring out of her mouth and reinforcing the heavy air pollution in her car. “I’ve gone on plenty of solo trips before. Sometimes it’s more liberating that way anyway to be alone with your own thoughts for a couple of days,” she added, half-convincingly.
“Haylee, that’s dangerous!” Lauren scolded through an ironic burst of exhaled cigarette smoke. “Especially if you’re gonna be camping again as I’m guessing you are.”
Haylee rolled her eyes, having inadvertently triggered one of Lauren’s lectures. “Yes, mother!” she responded with a combination of levity and annoyance.
“I’m serious, Haylee!” Lauren pressed. “A girl your age shouldn’t be traveling out to the country alone!” she warned, her own personal experience projected like a spotlight even though she’d never told Haylee the full context of the Dusty Beaudry incident that guided her visceral warning.
“Got it covered,” Haylee mugged. “I got a spray in my purse that will fend off both man and bear,” she added with a chuckle.
“I know I’ve scolded you about this before, but you need more protection than a spray can,” Lauren continued to lecture.
Haylee sighed, jets of cigarette smoke encircling the mostly smoked Camel Pink dangling from her lips. “You know I don’t like guns,” she responded yet again in the circular debate she’d had with Lauren before.
“I don’t like them either but a girl needs to protect herself, Haylee,” Lauren pressed once again, placing her mostly smoked cigarette in her lips to dangle as she pulled onto what she figured would be the final stretch of ragged pavement before reaching her destination. “Please just think about it. It scares me whenever I know you’re all alone in the woods.”
“Yeah, well, it might not matter. Maybe I’ll do something else this weekend,” Haylee responded, suddenly in a hurry to wrap up the call and the latest life lesson being imparted by Lauren, another reminder to Haylee why she and Lauren weren’t so close anymore. “Anyway, I’ll let you go but just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out.”
Lauren saw the number 1723 on a trailer park about 50 yards away and despite wanting to talk more to Haylee, knew she had to wrap things up as well. “You know I do, Haylee….and we absolutely will. Can I call you back tonight?”
“Uh, sure,” Haylee answered dismissively. “Whenever you want to call is fine.”
“Let’s definitely pick this up before you leave, okay?” Lauren asked open-endedly with no response before closing. “Take care, Haylee.”
The girls ended the call as Lauren pulled up to Karla’s trailer house. It only now hit Lauren how she and her red convertible stuck out like a sore thumb in this run-down trailer park. Coupled with the heavy lecture she’d just given Haylee about personal safety, a familiar low-level PTSD began to haunt Lauren as she stopped the car. If only Haylee knew what she had gone through six years ago this weekend in small-town Cannon City, she would have understood why Lauren was so aggressive about personal protection for a female out alone, especially in isolated rural zip codes like the one where Haylee planned to travel.
Lauren shook herself back to present-day trauma as she closed the top on her convertible, about to make good on her promise to Karla as her domestic abuse sponsor. She stubbed out her cigarette into one of two overflowing ash cans in the console of her car and then grabbed her purse in the passenger seat. She had no idea what might be waiting for her when she stepped out of this car and into Karla’s home, so she opened her purse for a personal security check. She dug to the bottom of her purse and pulled out the Glock 19 she’d been carrying for the last few years. She opened the clip to make sure it was fully loaded and then snapped it shut with practiced familiarity.
Lauren still didn’t like carrying a gun, but wanted to make sure that any potential predator trying to take advantage of her liked it a whole lot less. She opened her car door to make the promised contact with her subject.
—————–
Becky proceeded to the hospital in her Buick through suburban traffic. An ambitious grin on her face, she couldn’t wait to impress the junior nurses with the findings of her research earlier this morning. As she pumped the brake approaching a stoplight, she dragged aggressively from her Marlboro Red and twisted her lips to exhale out the cracked driver’s side window.
Without warning, a sharp pain began to throb at the front of Becky’s head.
“Oh God, not here,” Becky lamented to herself as the familiar pain of one of her intense headaches began to intensify.
Becky did her best to control her breathing and deescalate the pain as its intensity worsened. She’d been having these semiregular spurts of cranial pressure strike like earthquakes for about a year. They always came without warning and varied in their magnitude, but as each throb pulsated like a tremor through her cerebrum, it was clear this was gonna be a particularly rough one.
Cars behind Becky began to honk as the light turned green and she didn’t move. She erratically put the car in motion, accelerating forward but realizing she had no business being on the road. She squinted her eyes through blurred vision to see a gas station sign ahead, committing herself to making it to the gas station lot and then parking until the headache subsided.
Becky maneuvered down the commercial street a block, focused on making the left hand turn and getting out of traffic. Her moment came and she plodded along until she found the empty parking stall to the side of the gas station, putting the car in park and sighing in relief, or at least as much relief as could be gleaned while dealing with this blinding and debilitating pain in her head.
Becky desperately wanted to both cry and take another drag from her cigarette, but realized that both would be detrimental to blood flow to her head. She tossed her half-smoked Marlboro Red out the cracked window, realizing she wouldn’t–and couldn’t–return to it before the ember was extinguished. The pain remained ferocious and, based on past experience, she expected it would continue to be for another 10 minutes or so. After that, another half hour of slowly winding down was on her horizon. She was glad she found this parking spot because she expected to be here a while, placing her fingers on her temples to gently massage them and induce some pain reduction.
As Becky pondered her dilemma more comprehensively, a pain filled her soul that cut just as deep as her throbbing head as it occurred to her she probably wasn’t gonna make it to work today.
——————-
Courtney sat in the elementary school counselor’s office awaiting another second-grade student to come in for their annual assessment. She’d already done five of these today and had one more to go before lunch. It felt good to be putting her skills into practice and making a difference with the next generation, but it was also intimidating knowing she was still a student intern and that everything she did was being scrutinized by her mentor Lucille Acevedo, among others. She sighed as she once again appreciated the high stakes, desperately craving a cigarette to calm her down but knowing that another 15-minute student session would come before any nicotine relief.
Courtney smiled as a withdrawn young blond-haired girl walked in the door looking at her shoes.
“Hi Lily,” Courtney greeted warmly. “How are you doing today?”
The meek Lily just nodded and mumbled, “Good” in a barely audible tone.
“Take a seat, Lilly,” Courtney requested pointing to the chair across from her. “My name is Mrs. Rosenquist. I’m actually more of a new kid at this school than you are. This is your second year here and I just started a few weeks ago.”
Lily nodded, her first indication of feeling safe in Courtney’s presence.
Courtney was pleased at establishing the first hint of a connection. “We’re gonna have some fun today and do some drawing. How does that sound?”
Lily shrugged as she looked at the large pad of drawing paper in front of her. “What do you want me to draw?” she asked.
“That’s the fun part,” Courtney replied. “You can draw whatever you want today.”
Lily looked confused. “I’m not very good at drawing,” she proclaimed barely above a whisper.
“Ugh! Neither am I!” Courtney reacted with a warm rapport. “But when I was a girl, I loved to fish. And even though I didn’t draw well, I could still fake it when it came to drawing some nice images of being out on the fishing boat with my dad.”
Lily let out a nervous smile, warming up to Courtney. “I’ve never been fishing though.”
“Oh, you should really try it! I recommend it!” Courtney replied. “But that’s not the point. I was better at drawing fishing scenes than anything else because it was something I was familiar with….something that I liked. If you stick to drawing something important in your life, or something that you like, you’ll probably be surprised how well it turns out.”
Lily smiled, feeling more engaged. “Can I draw my house?” she asked.
Courtney shrugged with a hint of encouragement and surprise. “Yeah, sure. This is your masterpiece, Lily. The crayons and pencils are right there.”
Lily seemed genuinely excited at this point and reached for a colored pencil first, quickly applying it to the paper and moving ahead with the activity.
Courtney took the opportunity to review Lily’s file. She’d looked it over closely the previous night but wanted to take a second look having just interacted with the child. There was no discernible through line to the girl’s psychological profile, with teachers reporting her pivoting from bashfulness to excitability, both friendly and hostile interactions with other students, flashes of both warmth and darkness, ongoing prevalence of thumb-sucking, and being easily distracted by outside stimuli. Courtney looked up from her file and observed Lily coloring in the sheet, grinning at how much Lily reminded her of herself when she was seven years old.
Courtney sat in silence, continuing to observe Lily for several moments before asking her next question. “How’s the drawing of your house going?”
“Pretty good,” Lily answered with modesty. “You wanna see?”
“I’d be honored to take a look!” Courtney replied, keeping the energy positive and inviting Lily’s continued interaction.
Lily turned her sheet to show a quasi-three-dimensional outline of the home with rudimentary scribblings of the inside of each room. “Here’s the kitchen…” Lily led, pointing one by one to each of the rooms. “Here’s the living room….here’s my parents’ bedroom….”
Courtney observed a stick person in the bedroom and followed up with a question. “Who’s this?”
“That’s my mom,” Lily responded, continuing with a hint of anger. “She’s always sleeping.”
“Does mom work a lot? Or work some crazy hours?” Courtney asked.
Lily nodded no. “She’s usually at home,” she answered.
Courtney jotted down “warning signs of possible alcohol or drug use” on her notepad before pressing forward.
“And this is me in my bedroom!” Lily quickly pivoted, pointing to herself and grinning when she added, “….and my dolls!”
“Barbies?” Courtney inquired.
“A couple,” Lily replied, her eyes lighting up. “But my favorites are American Girls and the Disney Princesses,” she added.
“How many do you have?” Courtney asked.
“Like 15,” Lily clarified.
Courtney smiled, looking back at the drawing and noticing the bedroom door was left conspicuously open in the drawing, and then recalling in her file how a couple of teachers noted that Lily sometimes went into the bathroom and didn’t close the door behind her. Courtney then looked back to Lily’s drawing and saw the room across the hall also had an open door.
“What room is this, Lily?” Courtney asked, pointing to the room adjacent to her bedroom.
“That’s the bathroom,” Lily answered casually.
“And who’s this in the bathroom?” Courtney continued, pointing to the stick figure in the drawing.
Lily hesitated for a moment, as if projecting a beat of unease. “That’s my stepdad.”
Courtney felt her heart beginning to pick up but didn’t want to show it to Lily, keeping a casual tone as she continued. “And how do you like him?”
“He’s pretty nice most of the time,” Lily answered, blushing a bit and clearly withholding some key information. “We play with my dolls sometimes,” she added with a nervous smile.
Courtney nodded, her face losing color. “I notice your door is open in the photo. Does your stepdad come by to visit sometimes when mom’s asleep?”
Lily shrugged through a faint smile. “Sometimes.”
“And does he invite you to come into the bathroom to see him?” Courtney asked.
Lily became increasingly withdrawn and skeptical, temporarily closing down.
Courtney, realizing the risk of Lily shutting down, had to walk a fine line and press her for one more nugget of information, doing her best to keep things light. “When you gotta go, you gotta go. So I get it!”
Lily smirked with a chilly overtone. “I mean, sometimes when I really have to go, he tells me to just come in while he’s shaving.”
Courtney maintained a professional smile, determined not to tip off to Lily how disturbed she was with what was just described. “That should be good for today, Lily. I’ll let you get back to class. Thanks for coming in and meeting me. I think we’ll be getting to know each other some more this year. Maybe next time, you can show me some of your doll collection.”
Lily nodded with a grin, sensing she’d gotten herself in trouble in some way even if Courtney was doing a good job of keeping Lily feel at ease. As she was getting up to leave, Courtney had one more request.
“Lily, would you mind if I kept this drawing?” Courtney asked. “I know you put a lot of work in it but I’m saving everybody’s drawings.”
“Okay,” Lily replied with apathy, as if having no attachment to what she just spent 10 minutes drawing. She stood up and left the drawing behind, and Courtney watched as she casually proceeded to the office door. “Bye Mrs. Rosenquist,” Lily responded warmly with a wave as she bid her new psychologist farewell.
“Bye Lily,” Courtney responded, her bubbly demeanor and false smile pivoting immediately to a concerned scowl the instant the door closed and Lily was out of sight. She raised her head and looked to the ceiling as if fighting the opening battle of what she expected would be a long internal tug of war.
She rose to her feet and fished her pack of Marlboro Light Menthol 100s and a lighter from her briefcase before frantically scrambling for the exit.
A couple of minutes later, Courtney paced the outside of her counselor’s office with a freshly lit cigarette in hand. She took a deep but joyless drag from her cigarette while taking traumatized strides back and forth in the small outdoor space she figured was sufficiently concealed from outsider observation. No sooner did the cloud of exhaled smoke in front of her face dissipate before she approached the cigarette to her lips for another, pumping her body full of the serum intended to calm her down. Quickly taking another drag, it became clear to Courtney that a steadier dose of nicotine than usual would be needed to make her right today.
“Courtney?” bellowed a familiar female voice from a short distance, startling Courtney as she looked up to her mentor Lucille Acevedo, busted cold with a forbidden cigarette in hand.
“Sorry,” Courtney apologized, holding up her cigarette and visually signaling that she knew she was breaking the rules.
“What are you thinking, Courtney?” Lucille scolded. “You can get suspended just like the students for smoking on school grounds! Wait till you get to your car next time like you do every other day.”
“I know, Mrs. Acevedo. I screwed up,” Courtney confessed, her body language conveying that her indiscretion was committed based on a uniquely heavy trigger.
“What’s wrong, anyway?” Lucille asked, clearly afraid of the answer that led Courtney to make this huge blunder in her first month on the job.
Courtney froze for an extended period as she mentally surveyed her options. She took another nervous drag from the cigarette to give herself a natural pause before addressing this crisis of conscience with Mrs. Acevedo before she was ready to. She made sustained eye contact with Lucille, part of her suspicious that Lily’s revelations were somehow planned as the ultimate test of Courtney’s aptitude for her new job, but she quickly dismissed that as too conspiratorial. Finally, she began to respond.
“Something came up in one of the morning sessions,” Courtney confessed. “It was pretty damn heavy.”
“With which student?” Lucille asked, the concern on her face palpable.
A guarded Courtney paused, wondering what she should disclose, and then finally offering up the name. “Lily….Schmidt”.
“What happened?” Lucille pressed.
Courtney froze again, taking another drag from her cigarette. “I’m not prepared to comment on it yet. I need more time to process everything,” she asserted, not sure if drawing this line in the sand would be seen as a sign of strength or weakness to Lucille.
“Sure, sure. I get it,” Lucille reacted, understanding her protege’s predicament. “Just don’t hold off too long if you think it’s something serious.”
“Thanks,” Courtney replied with relief as she dragged again from her cigarette.
“But lose that cigarette, okay?!? Before you get us both in trouble!” Lucille scolded again. “I’ll see you back here after your lunch.”
Courtney nodded, taking a final drag from the mostly smoked cigarette and then leaning down to stub it out in the grass. As she exhaled the final stream of smoke, she pondered her predicament. Back in college and even at the outset of her career, she had always longed to make a real breakthrough with a patient that would have life-altering consequences, but now that she had, it scared her to death. She was a mandatory reporter and there would be real livelihoods on the line if she did her job. But the biggest complication of all, and one that Courtney hadn’t seen coming, is that her own personal experience was keeping her from having the kind of response she thought she should be having to what she had just learned from Lily.
——————-
Anxiety oozed from Haylee’s pores as she entered the student affairs building on the University of Minnesota campus, only moments away from her disciplinary hearing. A committee of seven administrators she’d never formally met before would be deciding her future, and the consequences couldn’t be higher.
Haylee walked down the hall and entered the college dean’s office where a pleasant secretary requested she take a seat and the committee would call her in when they were ready. She anxiously waited, silently rehearsing her planned statement in her head in the moments before judgment was officially rendered on her. To her surprise, the secretary returned in mere moments to call her inside. The moment had arrived, and it felt every bit as heavy as Haylee feared.
“Welcome,” invited college dean Margaret Ellison with a chilly demeanor. “Go ahead and take a seat.”
Haylee tried to read the room, looking over the committee members and seeing a couple of vaguely familiar-looking professors she’d never had but saw on campus along with some administrators she’d never seen and a senior student ambassador. Haylee took a seat in what felt like a defendant’s chair, positioned below the elevated platform of committee members poised to decide her fate. She hadn’t expected to like what she saw when she walked into the room, and this first gander confirmed her fears.
The committee members introduced themselves as they looked Haylee over. The pretty light brunette on trial didn’t leave the best first impression to board members, walking into this deeply consequential hearing dressed in a casual pink T-shirt and white shorts with the aroma of stale cigarette smoke emanating from her body and invading their airspace. It didn’t speak well for Haylee’s capacity to amend the very behavior that got her in front of this committee in the first place.
“Calling this hearing to order,” opened dean Ellison in a clinical and dispassionate tone. “I present to this committee the case of Haylee McPherson, a third-year student who has violated this campus’s smoke-free ordinance five times, most recently earlier this month. Said ordinance clearly states that five violations by students or staff is grounds for expulsion. Ms. McPherson has been made aware of these criteria by campus security on each occasion of her previous violations, and a written reprimand and final warning by this committee after her fourth violation last spring.”
Dean Ellison looked up to the other committee members and then looked to Haylee. “Ms. McPherson, you’ll be given a chance to make your case before us why you should be allowed to continue matriculating on this campus. After that, committee members will ask you some follow-up questions and then render our decision. Is that understood?”
Haylee nodded affirmatively.
“Very well. The floor is yours,” invited the dean, awaiting Haylee’s feedback.
“Good afternoon to you all,” Haylee opened, clearing her throat and tipping off her heavy smoking credentials by the husky sound of her voice. “As you said, my name is Haylee McPherson. I’ve been a student here for more than two years. I’m a business major and have a 3.2 GPA. I feel like I’ve represented this campus well and have submitted written testimonials from two of my professors supporting that. I can read them aloud if you’d like.”
The dean shook her head no. “No need for that, Ms. McPherson. Committee members have already read them. Please continue.”
“Well….” Haylee opened confidently before unloading her first salvo of defiance. “I will state for the record that I don’t think my smoking habit has any bearing on either my academic performance or the well-being of anybody on this campus but myself. I came to this university with the intention of bettering myself and feel as though I’ve done my part. The smoking violations I’ve been accused of have all taken place outdoors and can’t be credibly connected to any hardship on the health of other students and staff. I’m asking for leniency because I think I have earned it and because I think students should be able to study here free of judgment about their lifestyles.”
Committee member Victor Hoffman let out a frustrated sigh. “Ms. McPherson, you still don’t seem to get it here. Your conduct is not up for debate. The ordinance has been in place for nearly 10 years. It was written for a reason and students are expected to respect it whether they like it or not.”
Fellow committee member and administrator Holly Hightower echoed the sentiment. “This committee let you speak today looking for some indication of remorse on your part, Haylee. Or some commitment to amend your behavior that stands in violation of our ordinance. You’re not giving us much to work with here.”
Haylee gritted her teeth, getting the reaction she expected. “You’re right that I don’t stand in front of you today with ‘remorse’. Administration on this campus demands that students show unquestioning respect to a long list of lifestyle choices and I’m not gonna apologize that my choice to smoke cigarettes is literally the only lifestyle choice you refuse to tolerate.”
Victor Hoffman grunted again, looking at Haylee and fellow committee members with astonishment at what he was hearing. “Ms. McPherson, it’s not a matter of respecting lifestyles. It’s a matter of offering students a healthy campus and honoring their right to fresh air.”
Haylee was prepared for this argument and fired back. “I looked through your student code of conduct and I didn’t see a single mention of a student’s right to fresh air. If I missed that citation, then everybody on this campus who wears strong perfume or ate fish for lunch must be right behind me waiting for their own disciplinary hearing, right?”
“You’re not taking this seriously, Haylee,” chimed in student committee emissary Maya Torres. “Secondhand smoke is a known carcinogen responsible for thousands of deaths per year. You can’t compare it to the smell of perfume.”
Haylee imagined herself spewing more fumes from the top of her head than she typically did from her nostrils, her rage escalating at being betrayed by a fellow student in front of a board of pencil pushers.
“Enjoy that gavel while you have it, Maya,” Haylee warned, realizing how ill-advised it was before she even finished saying it. “This school likes to take away anything you ever thought it gave you.”
“Alright, I think we’ve heard enough,” Victor Hoffman chimed in again with exasperation. “Professor Nguyen, just out of curiosity, is there any scenario where we would show leniency in a situation like this even if we wanted to?” he asked of another committee remember.
“Not much,” responded law professor Steven Nguyen with a soft-spoken shrug. “The ordinance is written the way it is for a reason and it would require a pretty extraordinary circumstance to give us leeway to deviate from it. I certainly haven’t heard anything here that would rise to that level.”
Margaret Ellison then spoke again. “Very well. Ms. McPherson, one last chance for closing thoughts. I’ll remind you this will go on your permanent record if you choose to transfer to another school.”
The agony of inevitable pending defeat overtaking her, Haylee decided to make her University of Minnesota swan song memorable.
“You know what….I don’t think I will be transferring to another school,” Haylee opened, commanding the committee’s attention. “I’ve kind of figured out they’re all gonna be just like this one. Just like you, they’re gonna make promises to guide me to a brighter future and insist that only by holding one of their degrees in my hand will I be able to live up to my potential and keep the world from eating me alive. But then, after they’ve cashed yet another tuition check I’ve sent them, all of their concern about my future will go out the window over something as petty as smoking a cigarette outdoors. And just like you, they’re gonna tell me that I have to leave. My future will no longer interest them because they’ll decide that judging my lifestyle is more important….”
After pausing for a moment to gather her final thoughts, Haylee resumed.
“But my future is not up to you, at least beyond this afternoon. I only wish I had realized this two years ago and $35,000 ago. And it’s not just me who’s realizing this, especially after the pandemic when you kept taking our money but quit offering the classes we paid for. Other students are also figuring out their future doesn’t depend on this university. They’re figuring out they don’t have to take on a lifetime of debt to pay for hiring a dozen new college administrators every year. They’re figuring they don’t have to drive through unsafe neighborhoods on the way to school every morning and pray they don’t get carjacked. They’re figuring out that, in most cases, they can learn everything they need to know about the job they want to get from a 30-minute You Tube video. They don’t need one of your overpriced degrees and four years of their lives. As more people realize that, you’re gonna regret the students who were willing to stick around here….that you publicly humiliated and threw in the trash…..because they smoked a cigarette outside.”
Her passion and anger fueling her adrenaline, Haylee let out a final indignant sigh and closed. “That’s all I have.” She looked up at the committee members to see if just maybe she had broken through, only to find seven faces looking back at her with even more smugness and condescension than when she walked into the room.
“Thank you for that, Ms. McPherson,” dean Ellison replied with a sarcastic chuckle. “You’ve certainly given us plenty to consider here.” She paused for a moment and looked at her fellow committee members. “Without further adieu, this committee will vote on whether to expel Haylee McPherson. All those in favor say ‘aye’.”
“Aye,” responded a unanimous jury of Haylee’s not-quite peers, cutting her like a knife even though she knew it was coming.
“All those opposed, say ‘no’,” Ellison asked the follow-up, an extended moment of silence following.
“The verdict is unanimous,” dean Ellison declared. “Haylee McPherson, I regretfully inform you that you have been expelled from the University of Minnesota, effective immediately and effective permanently. I speak for myself, and I presume for others on this committee, when I tell you this is nothing personal, Haylee. Unfortunately, this university is not a good fit for you, but I wish you the best in figuring out an alternative path that is a more appropriate fit.”
Haylee could feel her body tremble as the worst-case scenario she anticipated was the very scenario that came to fruition. As she stood up, she held on to the side of the chair, her elevated blood pressure keeping her so unbalanced that she felt she might collapse. After regaining her composure, she walked out of the room. It was the most humiliating moment of her life and while she couldn’t get out of there quickly enough, she deliberately slowed her roll so as not to show weakness in front of the people who so breezily complicated her future.
As she walked down the last corridor of the student affairs building, Haylee knew exactly what she was gonna do next. She fished her pack of Camel Pink No. 9’s out of her backpack, opened it, plucked out a cigarette, and placed it between her lips. She progressed the last 25 yards with the unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth, lighter in hand for the instant she stepped out of the building.
Haylee opened the door and immediately sparked her cigarette to life. The September sunshine gleamed brightly upon her youthful features and feminine presentation as she stepped outside. Her light brown hair shimmered with illumination. Her pink T-shirt and white jean shorts glowed like a neon sign on the Vegas strip. And the cigarette perched in the center of her mouth went erect as she puckered her lips around the filter, producing a fresh cloud of smoke. But even amidst this smoky haze, the sunshine still broke through, revealing the last residual freckles on Haylee’s cheekbones that contrasted with the smoker’s weathering just underneath them.
It felt liberating for Haylee to traverse this campus for the first time in memory without a fear of reprisal for being who she was. Even if a campus police officer was waiting around the corner, there was nothing he could do to her this time. Only at her moment of exodus did Haylee feel at home on this campus. The consequences of this new reality would hit home soon enough, but at least at this moment, Haylee felt good, grateful for her recurring acts of defiance in the face of organized tyranny. She puckered her lips around her cigarette again, exhaling triumphantly. The smoke filling her lungs may have been malignant, but somehow, the air on this campus had never tasted fresher.
————————
Lauren sat next to Karla Sanchez on the front steps of Karla’s trailer house, relaxed and jocular. The very unlikely duo of young women enjoyed each other’s company, their shared trauma of sexual assault bonding them despite their manifest differences. Karla, working-class and Hispanic, slightly overweight and wearing loose-fitting sweatpants, felt right at home in the presence of Lauren, upper-middle-class and blond, physically fit and decked out in stylish black leather….and vice versa.
Lauren took a final drag from her cigarette while listening to Karla, stubbing the cigarette out onto the base of the rundown staircase and letting the expired butt sit next to the three others she had extinguished in the last 45 minutes, intending to retrieve them and throw them in the trash before she left.
The panic attack that led Karla to call Lauren having passed, Karla shared a litany of her daily struggles working at the deli of a nearby supermarket.
“And now my boss say he gonna cut my hours,” Karla fumed in a broken English that Lauren could mostly understand if she focused. “Just a year ago, he say I had to work more hours. I said back then then they’d cut my kids off Medicaid if he gave me that many hours, but now a year later he gonna take me back down to 30 hours. It just ain’t right!”
“Will you be able to qualify for Medicaid again if he does?” Lauren asked.
“Not sure,” Karla replied with an exasperated shrug. “Even if I can, there’ll be a whole process to enroll again. Just never ends!”
“They did the same thing jerking around some of the women I worked with at the Lakeside Bistro,” Lauren advised. “I still have their phone numbers. Maybe I can call them and ask how they handled reapplying for Medicaid after their hours were cut.”
Karla smiled graciously. “Oh Lauren, that would be so sweet if you’d do that for me. I thank you so much.”
Lauren nodded warmly, grateful that she might be in a position to help her friend even if only in a small way. She was further grateful that her mother insisted she work as a waitress for a couple of years during high school. Lauren would still have sponsored Karla in their sexual assault survivor group without the waitressing background, but it certainly made it easier to connect with her having put in a couple of years working on her feet and serving the public.
Lauren then proceeded to open her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s and pluck out another one for herself before holding out the pack for Karla. “Would you like another one?” Lauren offered.
A guilty smirk on her face, Karla took hold of the cigarette Lauren held in front of her. “You better not get me hooked on these, girl. I can’t afford to smoke like you do,” Karla teased.
Lauren giggled as she stretched out with lighter in hand to spark up Karla’s second cigarette of the afternoon. “I’m probably not the best person to tell you that you won’t get hooked but I promise this is the last one I offer no matter how much you beg.”
Karla laughed boisterously as she accepted the flame from Lauren, taking a relatively shallow drag from the cigarette and feeling a wave of nicotine relief wash through her body. She smiled back at Lauren as she watched Lauren fire up her own cigarette and take a much more aggressive drag, a visual reminder for Karla not to let herself develop the kind of addiction that Lauren had.
“Sorry I wasted your time today, Lauren,” Karla confessed, contemplatively exhaling her cigarette smoke. “Hope I didn’t take you away from something important. Just have days where I feel like he’s out here watching and waiting for me, you know?”
Lauren shook her head aggressively as she dragged from her cigarette. “Absolutely no need to apologize. This is what I’m here for….when you have days like this. I know exactly the feeling you’re having and I don’t want you to have to deal with it alone.”
Karla smiled graciously. “Not sure how you can be so young but still so strong.”
Lauren nodded in appreciation, smoke flowing from her lips and mouth providing visual grit to her survival story. “It takes time….and no two people have the same healing process or timeline. It’s been six years since my attack. I still have moments when I break into a cold sweat. And I still have moments where I feel shame for….no reason in particular. It’s not like a light switch went off and I was just good one day.”
Karla nodded with understanding. “Almost two years now for me. Sometimes it feels longer. Other times like it was just yesterday.”
“Exactly!” Lauren agreed. “And you’re living right here where it happened. Felipe may be gone….” she continued, referencing Karla’s attacker, “….but I get how it must feel like his ghost lingers at the end of every shadow.”
Karla just nodded, dragging from the cigarette. “Just always feels like he’ll come back some day, you know? To finish the job?” She paused and then added, “And if he ever came back, I don’t know what I’d do. Not like I can just pack up the kids and move.”
Lauren nodded sympathetically, dragging from her own cigarette. “A really good friend of mine was in your situation, Karla.”
“Someone from the group?” Karla asked, in reference to the sexual assault survivor support group they were both members of.
A faint nostalgic smile emerged on Lauren’s lips as the smoke trickled from her face. “No, this was a friend of mine named Joyce. She lives in Missouri and was like the grandma I never had. Long story….” she added with a giggle. “She’s a waitress in a little town….and her rapist comes into the diner where she works almost every day. He’s been doing it for like 40 years.”
“Damn!” Karla reacted. “She must be even stronger than you!”
Lauren nodded emphatically. “She’s one of the strongest people I know. And I’m stronger because she was there for me when I needed her most.”
“You decide to mentor me because of her?” Karla asked.
Lauren smiled and nodded. “Yeah….I needed to pay it forward some way.” She took another deep drag from her cigarette, pontificating their shared trajectory. “We rarely get the kind of justice we deserve as victims. I never did. My attacker is still out there living his life just like your attacker is. But Joyce taught me we still gotta take ’em on. We still gotta fight. Or we’ll never be able to live with ourselves. And if we fight back, just maybe they’ll think twice about raping the next girl. If Felipe ever shows his face around here again, I’m gonna be standing right beside you fighting him, Karla. You have my word,” she vowed with residual smoke streaming from her face marking her authenticity.
Karla tried to fend off the appreciative tears. “That means so much, Lauren. Truly does.” Karla crushed out her half-smoked cigarette before the emergence of a mischievous smirk. “If you are standing by me in front of Felipe, I want you wearing what you are today. He’ll be scared….think you’re gonna whip him or something.”
Lauren broke into boisterous laughter. “You’re the second person today who’s told me I look like I should crack a whip. Can’t a girl wear leather on the first day of fall?” she mused.
Karla laughed back before realizing how late it was. She looked at her phone and her relaxed posture stiffened. “Aww shit. The school bus gonna be here in like 10 minutes. Better let you run before the kids get home and start asking questions. No offense.”
Lauren shook her head. “None taken. I need to take off anyway.”
Lauren and Karla both stood up to hug it out one more time, the unlikely duo pressing their upper bodies together to embrace and both smelling the fresh cigarette smoke on the other. “Thank you so much, my dear Lauren,” Karla gushed. “The only one luckier to have you than me is that boyfriend of yours.”
Lauren laughed as they let go of one another. “Call me any time you need a friend, Karla,” Lauren reminded. “Most days, I’ll be no more than 20 minutes away.”
“Sounds great…but can you do me one more favor and pick up those cigarettes so my kids don’t think their mom did that?” Karla requested with a smirk.
“Ope,” Lauren responded with a guilty giggle. “Almost forgot,” she confessed, bending over to retrieve her discarded cigarette butts, the stub of her current one dangling from her lips. She looked at Karla and spoke again through the dangling stub. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Take care, Lauren,” Karla bid her friend adieu with a final wave. “Look forward to seeing you again but hope it’s not too soon if you know what I mean!”
Lauren nodded in understanding. “You’ll be okay…..but if you’re not, I’ll be here whenever.”
Karla smiled at her one more time before heading inside the trailer.
Lauren proceeded to her car and climbed inside. She dropped the handful of spent cigarette butts into her ash can and crushed out the cigarette still dangling from her lips. As she picked up her phone to call Trevor, a wave of guilt sunk her spirit, especially after Karla’s compliment about how lucky he was to have her. Lauren was about to lie to Trevor and decided it’d be easier to do that with a recorded audio than a call. She held her thumb on the WhatsApp record button and articulated her deceptive message.
“Hey baby,” Lauren opened, her tone accelerated as if in a hurry. “Bad news. I just got a call from Karla. She’s having a panic attack and needs me to come over. I’m just leaving the office now and will be home later than I expected….but wait up for me. If you’re not too tired, I’ll make it up to you. See you tonight, Trevor. Love you.”
Lauren released her thumb from the record button and crashed her head back into the head rest of her Mazda, disgusted with herself for choosing her secret life over Trevor this afternoon. Still, she promised herself a reward after her doctor’s appointment and was under no illusion that her better angels had any hope of beating her demons in this fight. She started her car and placed another unlit Marlboro Light 100 between her lips. After lighting it and putting the car in gear, she headed off to the place where she needed to go least but wanted to go most.
———————–
Trevor sat on the living room couch listening to Lauren’s audio recording. An even deeper sadness crept into him upon hearing that Lauren would be late. Trevor had high hopes of a full evening with his beloved, but now he had to face the prospect of at least a couple more hours of soul-sapping emptiness at home. He knew something was going on with Lauren that she hadn’t told him, but he also had no reason to not believe her story that she was off supporting Karla Sanchez.
Trevor sunk even deeper into the couch, responding to Lauren’s audio with a couple of emojis attempting to disguise his despondency. He turned the volume back up on the television so that he could at least drown his sorrows in an afternoon soap opera that he’d been hooked on for the last few months. The love triangles and backstabbing characters on the soap opera gave him yet another excuse to step away from his keyboard for an hour every day. As empty as he felt watching it, it was an improvement upon desperately trying to make the words come out for his set-in-quicksand “novel”. It was also an improvement from having to think about what might really be going on with Lauren.
Trevor was then startled by the ringtone of his cell phone. He was surprised and a bit alarmed when “Dad” showed up on the caller ID.
“Hey dad,” Trevor greeted. “What’s up?”
“Hey Trevor,” Steve responded. “Sorry to bother you but have you heard from mom today?”
“No…” Trevor replied with immediate dread. “I thought she was working today,” he added, not having expected his near-daily phone chat with his mother.
“Yeah that’s what I thought too,” Steve responded with audible concern. “The hospital just called me and said she didn’t show up for her shift. She’s already more than an hour late. I’ve called your mom a half dozen times now. No answer. It goes straight to voicemail.”
Trevor’s tension escalated as he tried to avoid panicking. “You have that tracking function on her phone. Have you tried that?” he asked his father.
“Tried it. It doesn’t work when the phone is off,” Steve responded, doing his best to avoid panicking just like Trevor.
Trevor paused for a moment, his brain buffering in search for an alternative option. His face quickly lit up and he offered another possible solution. “Why don’t you call OnStar. They can activate the tracker on her car.”
“That’s a good idea,” Steve responded, a split second before having an epiphany.just based on the suggestion of Becky traveling by car.
“Dad?” Trevor called out amidst the extended silence.
“Yeah sorry,” Steve came back from his speculative daydream. “I’ll let you go and call OnStar but it just hit me that I have a pretty good idea where your mom went. I’ll call you back and let you know if I’m right.”
“Okay go for it…and good luck, dad,” Trevor offered, a familiar vulnerability in his voice when it came to the topic of his mother.
“Just do me a favor and don’t tell your sisters just yet,” Steve pleaded. “Especially Courtney.”
“Yeah….sure,” Trevor responded grudgingly, understanding his father’s wishes to keep his sisters out of the loop but thinking they deserved to know what was going on with their mother just as much as he did.
“Thanks, Trevor. I’ll get right back to you,” Steve closed before ending the call.
Trevor sighed with worry and even deeper frustration. As hard as it was for Trevor to observe his mother’s slow-motion decline into dementia, it had to have been orders of magnitude worse for his father and Haylee who lived under the same roof and were watching it unfold every day. He tried in vain to resume watching the soap opera but knew he wouldn’t be able to even vaguely enjoy anything on the screen at least until his father got back to him.
—————————
Haylee cruised the streets of her parents’ suburban neighborhood at a leisurely pace. Freshly lit Camel Pink No. 9 dangling from her lips, the brief sugar high she got storming off of the University of Minnesota campus for the last time was burning off. Even though she expected her parents’ place was empty right now, she was in no hurry to get home. She didn’t want to risk that if somebody was home, she’d have to explain why she wasn’t on campus where the family believed she was supposed to be. It was gonna break her parents’ hearts to find out she had been expelled from college. She wasn’t sure when the right time would be to break the news, but she definitely wasn’t emotionally prepared to do it today.
Haylee puckered her lips around the cigarette dangling from it, leaning on it for emotional support without even recognizing the irony that her preferred method of relieving stress was also the primary source of the stress currently saddling her. She couldn’t very well drive in circles through the neighborhood the rest of the day and into the night, but planned to do so at least until she was normally scheduled to be home today, which was more than two hours away. And even when she did get home, could she keep this trauma under her hat all night without her parents calling her out? She could feel her hand trembling on the wheel as the cloudy haze of smoke partially obscured her field of vision out the car windshield, fighting an internal struggle of wanting to be alone and needing to reach out to somebody. She let out a smoker’s cough that inadvertently punctuated this struggle.
Haylee began to brake to stop her car behind the bright yellow school bus making a stop. As she watched a cluster of schoolkids disperse at the bus stop, a light bulb went off in her head of a place she could go to kill some time before heading home. She leaned her head to her left to see past the bus. The Wagner family lived just down the block and she was curious if the parents were still home to greet their sons who were undoubtedly just returning from school along with these elementary kids currently exiting the bus in front of her. Noticing the familiar Wagner family SUV parked in the driveway, Haylee smiled around her dangling cigarette. She was long overdue for a visit.
Haylee drove up to the Wagner family home and pulled into their driveway, only then beginning to feel a bit of anxiety for how she’d be received dropping in on them unannounced after nearly three years. As she stepped out of the car and approached the front door, she convinced herself her visit would be a pleasant surprise. She rung the door bell and awaited a response.
A familiar-looking late 30s man opened the door, a vape stick dangling from his lips as he studied the visitor at this doorstep for a moment before realizing who she was. “Haylee McPherson!” announced Eric Wagner. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Haylee laughed, pleased that her visit was well-received. “No reason in particular…” she responded, her half-smoked cigarette bouncing in her lips as she spoke. “Just getting home from college a little early today. I saw the school bus and made me think I was overdue to say hi to you and the boys.”
Eric’s wife Jessica approached the door next to her husband. “I thought I heard your name come from my husband’s lips!” Jessica greeted. “How have you been, Haylee? We’ve missed you.”
“Oh you know….hanging in there,” Haylee responded in as noncommittal of language as possible as she studied the attractive blue-collar couple who entrusted her with their sons for five full years when she was a teenager. Neither of them had changed much.
“Well come on in,” Eric invited. “I’ll get the boys. They’ll be thrilled to see you.”
Haylee took her first step into the Wagner home in years just as Jessica took a hit from a vape stick identical to her husband’s. Haylee caught herself before entering with a cigarette dangling from her mouth and decided she’d burned enough bridges today by smoking without permission.
“Should I lose this first?” Haylee asked Jessica, taking hold of the cigarette between her lips.
Jessica paused for a moment before answering, listening to her husband call Jarrod and Joshua down from upstairs. “Ahh, don’t worry about it. We can’t get our first Haylee McPherson visit in all these years and tell her she can’t smoke,” Jessica teased.
Eric smiled back at Haylee while waiting for the boys to come downstairs. “Haylee, I think you’re the only person I know who hasn’t switched from cigarettes to vaping,” he offered lightheartedly.
Haylee laughed back, puckering her lips around the cigarette with stubborn allegiance to her nicotine delivery device of choice. “I’ve tried it. Not for me.”
“I’d at least recommend them for when you’re on campus,” Jessica advised, with a critique that was just a little too on the nose for Haylee’s comfort today. “You can sneak a puff between classes and nobody will be the wiser.”
“Not feeling like there’s an elephant standing on your chest when you wake up every morning doesn’t hurt either,” Eric concurred with his own logic for making the switch.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Haylee answered with a smoky and dismissive smile before abruptly changing the subject. “Are you guys still working the late shift at 3M?” she asked.
“Only one of us,” Eric responded with an exhausted grimace.
Jessica beamed with a proud smile. “I got in at the office a few years ago and after COVID, I’ve been able to work from home.”
“Congratulations,” Haylee offered, making a mental note about her own post-university employment prospects. “Must be nice to spend more time with the boys.”
“Oh, you have no idea, Haylee,” Jessica responded passionately. “As grateful as we were to have a babysitter as dependable as you all those years, it was killing me to have to work nights and not be able to watch them grow up.”
The sound of footsteps descending the staircase alerted both Haylee and the Wagner parents that they were about to have visitors. Haylee looked up to find two young boys that looked only loosely familiar after three years of separation from them. Ten-year-old Joshua had a familiar detached bashfulness to his gaze as he led the way downstairs, taking only cursory glances at the former babysitter that he only barely remembered. He treated Haylee like the sun during an eclipse, not to be looked at directly for fear of going blind.
“Remember Haylee, Joshua?” his father asked. “She was your babysitter when you were still in diapers.”
Joshua could barely muster a demure nod as if not entirely sure he did remember her.
A few steps behind Joshua was 12-year-old Jarrod. Much as Jarrod tried to play it cool, his jaw hung open and his eyes remained fixated on the girl standing before him whose feminine brand had been seared to his heart going back to his earliest memories, and who had been the central figure in his fantasies for years thereafter. And just when images of her face had begun to consume Jarrod’s consciousness only weekly rather than multiple times daily as they used to, here Haylee stood in front of him looking almost exactly as Jarrod had remembered her. The pink top….the white jean shorts…..the gorgeous face paired with that lioness mane of curly light brown hair…..and most of all, the cigarette. Jarrod continued watching in awe as Haylee made eye contact with him, a familiar smile forming on her lips that made the cigarette go erect.
“Hey Jarrod!” Haylee greeted spiritedly. “I bet you remember me better than your brother.”
Jarrod managed to at least close his mouth and pull himself together enough to keep from completely embarrassing himself as he continued to process Haylee’s unexpected presence, but was now distracted anew by the bursts of fresh cigarette smoke wafting from Haylee’s mouth just as he remembered it. As the foul aroma began to drift into his airspace, it felt like a hug from a long-lost friend. The maximal sensory intimacy of the reunion was now official and Jarrod’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Of course I remember you!” Jarrod exclaimed with more enthusiasm than he attempted to evoke.
“I don’t want to sound like your aunt but you boys have grown so much….and you’ve gotten pretty darn handsome too,” Haylee shared while dangle-dragging again from her cigarette, reinforcing the smoky aroma that used to be so familiar in Jarrod’s life but had become so scarce.
The initial dopamine surge of hearing Haylee McPherson tell him that he looked handsome hit hard, but her focus on his appearance soon led Jarrod to feel self-conscious. He briefly looked down to his outfit and ruffled his hand through his light brown hair, hoping that it didn’t look too messy or greasy.
“Do you still live around here?” Jarrod finally uttered the first thing he could think of asking and hoping the answer was yes.
“I sure do,” Haylee answered. “I’m still staying with my parents at the same house two blocks down. You probably remember it.”
“But you’re in college now?” Jarrod asked.
“Yep,” Haylee answered, a statement that was true only three hours ago. “And what grades are you two in by now?”
“Just started seventh grade,” Jarrod answered with a slight chest puff, as though the “handsome” kid she just complimented was becoming a man more quickly than she could possibly realize.
“And how about you, Joshua?” Haylee asked the younger brother, her dangling cigarette now down to a stub and intimidating him more than it ever had in the past.
“Fourth grade,” Joshua answered shyly.
Jessica emerged from the kitchen with a holdover ashtray for Haylee’s cigarette. “We waited till Joshua was six before he started kindergarten,” she offered, clearing up the arithmetic discrepancy in case Haylee was confused.
Haylee nodded as she deposited the cigarette into the ashtray. “My sister’s son ended up waiting till next year to start kindergarten too.”
“So no classes on Thursday afternoons, Haylee?” Eric asked, curious about why she was here today.
“Uh, exactly,” Haylee stammered.
“You still hanging out with those friends of yours? Lauren and Carly?” Jessica inquired. “They were always around when we picked up the boys.”
“Yeah, for the most part,” Haylee answered unconvincingly. “We keep in touch but have our own lives taking us different directions. You know how it goes?” After a pause, she continued. “I tried to talk both of them into going camping with me up on the North Shore for the weekend but neither could do it.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Jessica responded with a sympathetic nod. “Since when do you go camping?” she asked with a chuckle as though taken aback.
“Oh you remember when I got my drivers’ license and started going on road trips?” Haylee asked rhetorically and then answered her own question. “Camping was kind of the next step after that so I didn’t have to drive home in the dark or rent motel rooms. I actually go quite a bit now.”
“By yourself?” Eric asked with a hint of concern.
“More often than not,” Haylee confessed, fishing out her pack of Camel Pink No. 9s and preparing to light another. “When I can’t interest family or friends and I really need to get out of here to stay sane like this weekend, I’ll make the trip myself. Looking forward to being out of here by this time tomorrow.”
As Haylee lit the cigarette, a young male voice from the staircase that the adults had briefly forgotten about startled the room as he chimed in.
“I could go with,” Jarrod volunteered with a sincere intensity on his face.
Jessica laughed, figuring that her son must be joking. “Since when you are a camper? We went once and you hated it.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Jarrod clarified, rewriting history for his benefit.
“Don’t be silly,” Jessica doubled down condescendingly. “Haylee doesn’t want to babysit you on her vacation.”
Haylee laughed, still confident this indecent request was going nowhere. “Actually I would mind having him along to keep me company,” she offered halfheartedly.
“You see!” Jarrod exclaimed. “Haylee wants me to come with! It’d be way better than just sitting around here being bored all weekend!”
His father continued to argue against the idea. “C’mon Jarrod. Haylee said she’s leaving tomorrow afternoon. You’ll miss school,” Eric reminded.
“So will she!” Jarrod persisted.
Haylee laughed and blushed. “He’s got a point. I am gonna cut out by 1:00 or so and miss my last two classes tomorrow. I want to get up to the Two Harbors area before dark tomorrow night,” the cigarette bobbing up and down in her mouth as she spoke.
Scattering waves of fumes that progressively filled up the room, Haylee was unconsciously firing off a pheromone assault in Jarrod’s direction with the rapid-fire ferocity of a machine gun.
Jarrod observed with a quiet lust, reinforcing his fierce determination to make this sale. “Can I please go?!” he whined, his childish tone contrasting with his attempt to sell himself as more mature.
Eric and Jessica both looked to Haylee as if it was her call.
Haylee shrugged, warming up to the idea. “It’s up to you guys but it might be kind of fun.”
Both parents looked up to Jarrod as if still contemplating, finding it hard to say no to him given how obviously committed their son had become to this weekend reunion with his boyhood babysitter.
“How about you, Joshua?” Eric offered, so as not to exclude his youngest son. “Would you want to go camping with Haylee and your brother?”
The mild-mannered Joshua shook his head no with an unusual degree of authority, and his older brother sighed with relief, confident he was about to get the green light and grateful he wouldn’t be saddled with Joshua as a third wheel if he did.
“If Haylee’s sure she’s okay with it, then maybe,” Jessica finally submitted.
Jarrod erupted in excitement in a way that brought a smile to Haylee’s face, reminding her of his enthusiasm when she babysat him. He reined in the boyhood fervor as quickly as possible, trying but failing to keep his cool in the presence of the former babysitter who was still the coolest girl he’d ever known.
“Just say the word, Haylee, if you’re not okay with this idea,” Jessica offered Haylee her last out.
Haylee’s smile widened around her cigarette as she became increasingly comfortable with having an adolescent road trip buddy. “You know, I came here this afternoon needing somebody to go with me on my camping trip. It’s starting to look like I stopped by for a reason. I’m good if you guys are.”
Jessica shook her head and then nodded yes to Jarrod. “I’ll pick you up from school after lunch tomorrow…” she began to explain to her oldest son, “….but that means you’re gonna have to get packed up today. Your dad and I will dig our old tent out of the closet but you’re gonna have to pick out your clothes. It’s probably gonna be cold out there at night so you’ll need lots of sweaters, okay?”
“Yeah sure!” Jarrod played along, walking on the clouds that he pulled this off. “I’ll go up and pick them out right now!”
Jessica and Haylee smiled at each other as they watched an effervescent Jarrod storm back up the stairs and hurriedly return to his bedroom.
Jarrod kept his ears perked as his parents and Haylee continued to talk downstairs, but by the time he got to his bedroom, he closed the door and silenced all other conversation. He headed to his closet, ostensibly to dig out the sweatshirts and sweaters he would need for his weekend trip, but this surprise visit from Haylee brought back another memory of a long-forgotten time capsule from the same closet. He decided it was time to resurrect it. He got down on his knees and started sliding out a couple of cardboard boxes full of old toys he hadn’t played with in years. The tattered makeshift briefcase he was looking for was still there, and Jarrod’s heart hung heavy with anticipation as he opened it.
His filthy trophy collection looked just as he remembered it the last time he took a gander at it more than three years ago. More than a dozen sealed Ziploc bags stained with nicotine and tar sat in front of him, the aroma of extremely stale expired cigarette butts pungent enough that even Jarrod wrinkled his nose upon their unearthing.
Jarrod had memory-holed the prized possession of his childhood in recent years, but it was taking on a new and completely unexpected contemporary relevance. He slowly unfastened the seal of one of the plastic bags and approached his nose to it. He suppressed his gag reflex upon taking in the grotesque aroma of dozens of years-old Camel Pink No. 9 butts that defined Haylee’s teenage years and defined Jarrod’s own childhood years under his babysitter’s tutelage.
Jarrod glowed with another wave of sensory reawakening, the sight and smell of Haylee’s cigarette bringing back an avalanche of emotions, almost all of them good, no matter how wrong they intuitively felt. He was over the moon that one of his favorite memories of childhood was about to reemerge with a continued presence in this next stage of his life. He was determined to make sure Haylee’s proclamation from moments earlier would be vindicated….the notion that she came to visit the Wagner family home that afternoon for a reason.
—————
Lauren ascended the escalator of the metro area’s largest casino, her adrenaline beginning to surge as she got closer to the gaming rooms and could hear the familiar jingles of slot machines and the odor of cigarette smoke that wasn’t hers. She had to delay the reward she promised herself when the call came in from Karla Sanchez, but her hard-earned “Lauren time” had finally arrived….just as it had on Monday and two days last week.
Once at the top of the escalator, a familiar security guard smiled as the leather-draped Lauren approached. She was ready with driver’s license in hand as she stepped up to him, showing him her ID to get the official green light for entry into her sordid secret life. The melodies of hundreds of slot machines were calling out to Lauren, her body aching to start playing them every bit as intense as it ached for another cigarette. After one quick stroll to the ATM machine, she intended to feed both beasts.
Lauren beamed as there was no line for the ATM and she whipped out her credit card to make another withdrawal. Her mind was never more than a moment’s thought about how disappointed Trevor would be with her if he knew about her gambling addiction or, for that matter, the guilt he would feel given that he brought her here for her 21st birthday and accidentally created this monster. Trevor’s memories of those poker games Lauren commandeered in her teen years guided him to bring her here for a nostalgic revisit. How could he have known that he managed to reignite a compulsion in Lauren that would greatly intensify with the flashy environment of the casino and real money at stake?
Lauren scooped up the casino card spit out by the ATM machine and rapidly traversed the casino floor to her favorite cluster of video poker machines, her blue eyes drawn to their glow with a spooky magnetism bordering on hypnosis. She was elated to see that she had the corner to herself on a weekday afternoon, giving her access to her favorite machine and a measure of isolation that offered an illusion of safety….a false comfort that nobody she knew would possibly see her here once again.
Lauren sat down at her favorite machine and instantly opened her purse. She reached inside and slipped out a stout Toro cigar. It was the continuity of an inside joke from the legendary Thanksgiving week poker night when she was 16, a night she and Trevor still spoke about fondly all these years later. But now the inside joke had become a ritual, a muscle memory connection she’d developed where poker and cigar smoke went together like peanut butter and jelly. She smoked one here on her 21st birthday when Trevor brought her here….and every one of the dozens of times since when she’s returned. The cigar also worked as something of an hourglass for Lauren. When her cigar burned out, it was time to leave the casino.
She placed the big cigar between her teeth and prepared to light it, but then froze and reconsidered. It was too late in the day to smoke a cigar and not tell on herself to Trevor. She usually made her casino runs in the middle of the workday, slipping out of the office in her parents’ garage over lunch and then returning to work for an abbreviated afternoon shift. Much as she wanted to fire up this cigar, she knew Trevor would smell it on her if she went straight home after the casino as she planned to. She reluctantly put the cigar back into her purse and retrieved her trusty pack of Marlboro Lights 100s instead. With practiced familiarity, she inserted a fresh cigarette in her lips and fired it up.
The fresh blast of nicotine coursing through Lauren’s bloodstream acted as rocket fuel for her gambling fever. She was positively euphoric as she placed her casino card into the waiting port. It was time for the machines sounding off for hundreds of other people in the casino to start sounding off for her. A brief flash of guilt resurfaced as she thought of Trevor and of her extended losing streak these last couple of months. It quickly dissipated, however, when the digital poker cards started shuffling on the slot machine screen. Those past losses didn’t matter right now….because Lauren could feel it in her bones that she was gonna win big today.
————————–
Courtney sat home alone at her work desk after leaving the elementary school. A freshly lit Marlboro Light Menthol 100 cigarette smoldered on the lip of the ash can as she read over her notes from her student profile interviews earlier in the day. She dictated her thoughts into a digital recorder to present to Mrs. Acevedo the next day and had completed all but one dictate. Unfortunately for Courtney, the analysis remaining was for Lily Schmidt.
Courtney took an aggressive drag from her cigarette, the ensuing explosion of smoke pouring from her face serving as a fitting metaphor for her foggy psychological interpretation of Lily’s responses to her interview. She took another drag from the cigarette and then held up her digital recorder to relay at least some of her conflicting thoughts.
“The most troubling analysis of today’s second-grade students was Lily Schmidt,” Courtney opened. “Lily’s portrayal of her home life hinted at multiple instances of potential concern. Her mother seems distant and disengaged, possibly but not conclusively the result of substance abuse. Worse yet, she hinted at a potentially sexually abusive dynamic with her stepfather. She conveyed all of this in a drawing that I’d like to submit for evidence and as a final call on how to proceed with this information. As a mandatory reporter, I encourage further investigation into this matter by the school district and potentially law enforcement. As a psychologist, I’m conflicted based on decidedly mixed cues from Lily’s behavior profile both in class and in my interview. While Lily exhibits some signs of sexual abuse trauma, there are also no shortage of trauma metrics consistent with sexual abuse that Lily is not exhibiting. With that in mind, I submit that further investigation of this matter be dealt with as delicately as possible and I will continue to evaluate Lily in the weeks and months ahead in hopes of additional clarification.”
Courtney released her finger from the record button and set the digital recorder down. There was more she wanted to say, but for the first time in her dozens of psychological profile documentations, she was too afraid and ashamed to relay her complete, uncensored analysis to audio for consumption by her supervisor. Courtney took another aggressive drag from her cigarette and then looked across the desk to her personal digital recorder that she used during college. She picked it up and tested it to see if it still worked, and when it did, she decided to record a separate audio for her personal use that conveyed her real, unfiltered feelings about the Lily Schmidt situation.
“And now for the REAL psychological analysis report on Lily Schmidt….” Courtney opened with substantial personal doubt in her tone. “I don’t believe that Lily is being sexually abused by her stepfather. I believe that she is isolated from a biological father who is not in her life and isolated from an absentee mother who’s addicted to alcohol or drugs. Lily is at an early stage of sexual awareness and I suspect she’s wishcasting a culture of intimacy with her stepfather who appears to be the most stable figure in her life. With that in mind, I’m fearful that the consequences of the investigation that my formal diagnosis put in motion will antagonize the situation even more and drive a wedge into an unstable home by shining a sinister spotlight onto a man who did nothing wrong….”
Courtney sighed with consternation and took another drag from her cigarette before continuing. “And while I feel personally confident about this diagnosis, I don’t feel professionally confident. And that is a problem. My cynicism about Lily’s story is the direct byproduct of my history with my own father, complete with fantasies about intimate relations that began when I was Lily’s age. I don’t want to formally share this analysis because it would undermine my personal credibility as a human being who tried to sexually seduce my own father….and because it would undermine my professional credibility as a psychologist using her personal story as a template for every other young person’s developmental issues. And needless to say, I’d never be able to forgive myself if I passed along analysis tainted by my own confirmation bias that proved to be wrong and I later discovered that Lily indeed was the victim of sexual abuse. Whichever direction I go will confirm that I’m a textbook example of impostor syndrome….the exact scenario I hoped to avoid when I landed this dream job.”
Courtney released her finger from the second recording, feeling as though she bared her soul into the wind. It made her feel a little better to say it out loud, but if nobody else would ever hear it, what purpose would it ultimately serve? She placed her neglected cigarette back in her mouth and took an intense, cheek-hollowing drag to reignite the embers of tobacco before they had a chance to smolder out. She always knew her personal emotional baggage would manifest itself into her career, but she wasn’t prepared for it to happen so soon on only her fourth week on the job. This wasn’t the first time she doubted whether psychology was the right career path for her during the years she studied it in college, but it was definitely the most profound.
The ringing of Courtney’s cell phone diverted her attention, particularly with the darkly coincidental “Dad” as the identified caller. After taking a second to appreciate the hand of fate slapping her in the face once again, she became nervous as to why her father might be calling her right now. She picked up the phone and answered.
“Dad?” Courtney inquired open-endedly with an obvious air of concern.
“Yeah Courtney….” Steve responded. “Something came up and I had to leave work. I’m gonna need either you or Wade to pick up Anthony from daycare today. Hope it won’t be too much of a problem.”
“Something came up?” Courtney pressed, thinking that sounded suspicious while exhaling a monstrous stream of cigarette smoke consistent with the air of mystery.
“Yeah,” Steve answered succinctly, clearly not wanting to elaborate. “It’s nothing serious. I was just calling to let you know you’ll have to pick up Anthony.”
“Everything okay with mom?” Courtney asked, her mother’s ongoing unpredictable behavior being the first place her mind went with her father’s evasive reference of “something coming up”.
Much as Steve wanted to make something up about a late appointment to satisfy Courtney’s skepticism, he knew it wouldn’t do anybody any good to get into the habit of telling lies. “Courtney, just trust me that it’s nothing serious and it’s being solved. Now I’m on the highway so I’m gonna have to let you go, okay?”
“Alright daddy,” Courtney closed sternly and without satisfaction while taking a final drag from her cigarette, “…but I want to hear more about this before tomorrow morning when I bring Anthony over, okay?”
“Of course,” Steve closed. “See you in the morning, Courtney. Love you.”
Steve ended the call abruptly before Courtney had a chance to say goodbye. She crushed her cigarette out into the ash can and released another of her trademark high-volume exhales followed by a smoker’s cough. Whatever stresses that her fledgling psychologist career presented her that seemed so important two minutes ago paled in comparison to her fears about her mother’s accelerating pace of cognitive decline. It hurt her deeply as a daughter, and it frightened her just as deeply as a mother who had just agreed to leave her son alone with Becky tomorrow morning.
Courtney was about to call her husband Wade to let him know she was gonna go pick Anthony up from the daycare at Steve’s office in case she wasn’t home when he got back from work, but before she did she needed another cigarette. As she studied the green and white markings on her pack of Marlboro Light Menthol 100s while extracting another cigarette and raising it to her lips, her expanding list of self-doubts grew even further, wondering if she could really give up smoking if and when menthols were banned as she told her mother this morning. Lighting the cigarette and feeling the rush of minty tobacco filling her lungs, the measure of instant calm Courtney felt made her momentarily concede that her confidence was waning even on that promise.
—————-
Lauren continued to sit in front of her favorite video poker machine, transfixed by the scattering of digital playing cards in front of her face even as it drained funds from her casino card after more than an hour of continual playing. Lauren took an aggressive and functionally hypnotic final drag from her current cigarette, the steady diet of nicotine serving merely as a source of fuel rather than the source of pleasure that it usually did. Without even looking at the ashtray, Lauren crushed the cigarette out next to a half dozen of its previously fallen soldiers. In the same hand motion, she scooped up the pack of Marlboro Lights 100s and lighter next to the ashtray, plucking out another cigarette, inserting it between her lips, and sparking it to life, her eyes never deviating from the machine at any phase of the cigarette replacement process.
A pair of young waiters stood at the edge of the casino bar a comfortable distance away, conversing with one another during a slow period. The more conventionally handsome of the two waiters nudged the other and pointed in the direction of Lauren. “There she is again.”
The two men admired the image of the strikingly beautiful 22-year-old blond, her long silky hair radiating like sunshine in contrast to the sleek black leather of her jacket and leggings. The men couldn’t look away from the slick surface of tight leather sculpting Lauren’s folded legs, the reflection of casino lights shimmering from the material and richly enhancing the already electric aesthetic.
“Damn!” responded the other waiter. “She’s the one usually puffing on the cigar, right?”
The original waiter responded with a frisky and mischievous nod, watching as Lauren took another deep drag from the all-white cigarette resting casually between her fingers, the smoky aura adding to the mystery blond’s dangerous appeal. “Not exactly what we’re used to seeing among the afternoon crowd, huh?”
The second waiter laughed while doing a quick visual survey of the mostly geriatric crowd in the gaming room before responding. “Definitely not.” After a brief pause, he pressed his smitten coworker. “Gonna make your move today, Tyler?”
Tyler gave him a confident and slightly predatory smirk as he leaned against the bar and fetched a tray. “I’m thinking maybe so,” he responded as he grabbed a couple of wine glasses and began to pour from a bottle of red wine.
“Good luck buddy,” the second waiter responded. “Let me know how things go in the morning.”
Lauren continued to gamble away the afternoon, restarting the video poker game for another round after every accumulating losing hand. Her cigarette hand was never more than a few inches from her face and she closed the distance every 15 seconds, each interchangeable compulsion fueling the other with the precision of a well-oiled assembly line. After multiple consecutive losing hands, part of her wanted to get up and try her luck at another machine, but she kept convincing herself that the second she abandoned this machine, a cash bonanza was awaiting whoever took her seat on the very next hand.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” interrupted a young male voice, startling Lauren who hadn’t looked away from her poker machine screen for several moments. “Can I interest you in a beverage?”
Lauren looked up to get her first look at Tyler and gave him a friendly but distracted smile.
Before Lauren had a chance to answer, Tyler continued, making her aware of the selections on the tray. “I got red wine….white wine….a nice French champagne. And a wide selection of beers if that’s your pleasure today.”
Lauren giggled. “You know what. I think I’ll just go with a Sprite today.” She paused to draw attention to the cigarette between her fingers, the ashtray full of butts next to it, and the poker machine in front of her face. “I think I have enough vices without tempting fate with any more.”
Tyler responded with a boisterous laugh that struck Lauren as being exaggerated. “Well, you’re allowed to indulge in whatever vices you’d like in this room as long as you can keep a lid on them as soon as you step outside.”
Lauren pursed her lips as she exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke with a charmed smile. “Maybe, but I’m not so good at limiting my vices to this room if I’m being honest.”
Tyler laughed again. “No problem. Sprite it is. I’ll go back and get you one.” He then proceeded to set down the tray of drinks on the empty surface of a nearby machine.
“I’m Tyler by the way,” he announced, stretching his hand out to shake with Lauren.
Lauren hesitantly stretched out her hand to shake with him, now realizing that Tyler had an agenda beyond fetching her a Sprite. Through a standoffish smile, she responded. “Hello. I’m Lauren.”
“Lauren,” Tyler echoed, continuing to lay on the charm. “I’ve seen you here several times before and always wondered. Not sure what I had in mind but I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Lauren.”
Lauren took another drag from her cigarette, eyeing Tyler with a cold suspicion but indulging him just to see if her hunch was correct. “Oh yeah. And what would you have pegged me as?”
“Oh I don’t know,” Tyler replied playfully. “I’d have pegged you as a lover of Italian food. Like maybe Leonardo’s at 6:30 tonight after my shift ends.”
Lauren burst into laughter, the final residual spurts of smoke polluting the airspace between them. “Smooth, Tyler,” she complimented before breaking the bad news. “Unfortunately, you’re barking up the wrong tree because this girl is engaged.”
Tyler put his hands over chest as if heartbroken by the news but continued to press thinking Lauren was just playing hard to get. “Engaged huh?” he teased. “I don’t see any rings on that finger.”
Lauren looked at Tyler with escalating agitation as she took a final drag from her cigarette and then crushed it out in the ash can. “No ring…but I am engaged,” she asserted, hoping her would-be suitor would get the hint.
With a combination of determination and annoyance, Tyler pressed forward, thinking she might still be playing hard to get. “Well that’s interesting, Lauren,” he accused. “Because I’ve been seeing you here all by yourself for months and not once have I seen a ‘fiance’ on your arm.”
Fire filled Lauren’s eyes at the exact moment she flicked her lighter and ignited another cigarette dangling from her lips. She launched a piercing dagger into Tyler’s heart before averting her eye contact back to the video poker machine in front of her. “I’d like to get back to my game now, Tyler,” she muttered dismissively, cigarette bobbing in her mouth as she spoke. “I think it’s time for you to buzz off. I’ll get my own Sprite.”
The door fully closed on his attempted courtship and now concerned about the possibility of a customer complaint, Tyler picked up his tray of adult beverages and began to whimper away, his dignity in tatters. “Sorry,” he offered as he made a final pass behind Lauren, hoping to salvage his job.
Lauren waited until she was confident that Tyler was out of sight before looking over her shoulder. She sighed with reinforced guilt, Tyler’s implication having cut her deep. Lauren was at this casino by herself, today just as always, while the loving boyfriend who she should have been parading around town on her arm was waiting at home for her as she gambled away their savings. The fact that this revelation came from a handsome young guy with a name so similar to Trevor’s made it cut that much deeper. Instead of being at home loving on Trevor, she was instead in the debaucherous environment of the casino getting hit on by Tyler.
Lauren took another drag from her cigarette, her follow-up cough symbolic of her overindulgence. She realized she had a bigger problem here than Tyler and committed to herself to fix it. But first she figured she might as well finish this cigarette and spend down the $20 she’d already paid for with the current game.
—————————-
Moments after parking his car, Steve walked down a familiar gravel road in the bluffs of the Mississippi River Valley in western Wisconsin. A picturesque Lutheran church to his left, Steve progressed amidst the granite headstones of the enjoining cemetery. A relieved smile emerged on his face to see his wife Becky on the horizon, kneeling in front of the exact grave site where he expected to find her.
Steve stopped for a moment, texting Trevor that he found his mother and that she was fine. He then continued forward, maintaining eye contact on Becky as she took a drag from her cigarette, apparently still unaware of his approaching presence.
Becky knelt in front of the granite stone with the surname Gunderson chiseled onto it, a safe space she didn’t visit nearly as much as she wished she could. She finally heard the gentle approach of footsteps behind and without even turning her head to look, she knew that they belonged to her husband.
Seconds later, Steve sat down next to her in solemn solidarity. He put his hand on Becky’s back and gently rubbed it, taking in the familiar aroma of her cigarette smoke in silence and without judgment about her disappearing act. He knew Becky would explain herself without provocation.
“I spent a lot of hours with mom as she dealt with her migraines back in the day,” Becky broke the silence. “The pain was ugly but at least the migraines never lasted very long. And after a few years, the migraines did mostly go away….but it was a hollow victory. By the time the pain went away, most of the damage was already done.” She made eye contact with Steve for the first time, flashing him a faint smile as she uttered, “I figured today it was time for mom to return the favor and help me deal with my migraines.”
Painful as the sentiment was, Steve grinned at his wife’s poignancy. “Did it help?”
Becky took a final puff from her Marlboro Red, maintaining loving eye contact with her husband before answering. “Yeah…it did,” pausing before adding, “The migraine hasn’t come back since I started talking to her, so as far as I’m concerned, mom helped me out again.”
Steve let out a soft chuckle to accompany his loving smile as Becky proceeded to crush her cigarette out into the ash can she brought from her car, careful not to desecrate her mom’s grave site with the habit that her mother hated so much.
“You can’t be turning your phone off though,” Steve finally got around to scolding. “You had me scared to death.”
“Sorry,” Becky apologized. “By the time my head was finally right, I was halfway here. I tried to call you but the bluffs were blocking the signal. Since I couldn’t get through, I just turned the damn phone off.” She looked directly at Steve before continuing, letting him know what came out of her mouth next was gonna be heavy. “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but that’s the problem with people like me when we have an episode. The things we do just don’t always make sense.”
Steve nodded with empathy as he watched Becky pluck out another cigarette from her pack of Marlboro Reds and abruptly light it. A reflexive and advanced smoker’s cough emerged from her damaged lungs the instant the first inhalation worked its way through her bloodstream.
“I don’t think I’ve earned the right to be a nurse anymore, Steve,” Becky continued, the darkness of her recent reflections continuing. “And we’ll see if Courtney thinks I’ve earned the right to continue being a grandmother.”
Steve shook his head, unwilling to accept either premise. “Nope. No, we’re not going there. Your mom was diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia 15 years before she had to hang up her nurse’s apron. You were only diagnosed three years ago. She kept her cognitive functions firing on all cylinders and delayed the inevitable…and that’s the exact same thing you need to do. I’m not letting you give up this quickly,” he asserted before pointing to the name on her mother’s grave and adding with a flourish, “…and neither is she.”
Becky shook her head in frustration, cigarette smoke streaming from her nostrils like a dragon’s flare. “Steve, do you want something like this to happen again?” she asked, shrugging her shoulders as if to remind him they’re in a cemetery two and a half hours from home.
“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t be driving anymore,” Steve conceded. “So you’ll call an Uber. Or maybe you’ll get the hospital transport van to give you a ride there when it’s your shift. Those nurses need your experience, Becky. And so do your patients.”
Becky nodded, having been partially won over by her husband’s argument. “Maybe…” she agreed conditionally before raising more doubts. “But how can my patients and colleagues trust my abilities when my own daughter doesn’t? If Courtney hasn’t already found out what happened today, she’s going to. She’s as much of a medical professional as I am. When she looks at me with horror when I ask to spend the day alone with Anthony, maybe it’s time for me to accept that I’m not fit to do the things I used to.”
Steve shook his head even more aggressively. “You let me deal with Courtney, okay. Anthony can survive your casual forgetfulness. And when you have your more serious episodes, there’s always a trigger tipping it off as we’ve discussed before….either the migraines or elevated blood pressure. When that happens, you can call me. You can call Trevor. You can call Haylee. And you can call the Murphys right next door. They’re retired and can come over and bail you out on a moment’s notice.” He paused to let that sink in before closing strong. “You always said you regretted keeping the kids away from your mom and not letting them get to know Ann better before her mind went. Don’t let the same thing happen to you.”
Becky sighed in despair with her lack of good options moving forward, dragging aggressively from her cigarette. She felt like crying but fought them back, maintaining her unspoken dictum to save the tears for when they’re really needed. She leaned forward to hug Steve, thanking him for his continued support and reminding herself she couldn’t get through this struggle without him.
“Now why I don’t I give you a moment to say goodbye to your mom and then we better take off,” Steve advised. “It’s gonna be dark in an hour so we should get on our way. You can just drive behind me and if there’s a problem, flash your lights and pull over. We’ll figure it out.” Steve began to stand up, making eye contact with his wife. “You’ll want a good night’s rest tonight. Remember you and Anthony are picking apples tomorrow.”
As Steve began to walk back to the car to give Becky the promised moment to say goodbye to her mother, his wife called out to him.
“Steve,” she called out before he got too far. As Steve looked back to her, she flashed an appreciative smile and stretched out her hand. “Can you give me a hand here?”
Steve grinned, reading the signal loud and clear that she had said everything she needed to say to her mother and that it was time to move on as Ann Gunderson would have wanted her to. An eruption of Becky’s smoke invading his airspace and providing him as much inexplicable pleasure as ever, Steve assisted Becky to her feet before the two of them made the walk back to their respective vehicles.
Hands lovingly around each other’s waists as they proceeded, Steve and Becky took in the beautiful river valley landscape one last time. As Becky observed the early stages of fall colors emerging on the thousands of trees surrounding them, it reminded her that it was the first day of autumn according to the calendar. A faint introspective smile emerged on her lips at the same time as the filter of her Marlboro Red did. Just as with the calendar, the end of Becky’s life cycle was on the horizon, but she was confident she had plenty of biological autumn left in her before it did.
———————-
Wade Rosenquist walked into his suburban home after a long day of repairing semi trucks at the shop, his work shirt and blue jeans stained with grease. Immediately after entering, the endearing tone of his five-year-old son’s voice lit up his ears.
“Daddy!” exclaimed Anthony as he raced from the couch near his mother to greet his father, embracing him as he did every day when dad came home, unconcerned about getting the residual grime of dad’s workday all over him.
Courtney closed her notebook from today’s session and took a gander, her dark day momentarily brightened by the sight of her husband and son. She may have questioned some of the instincts she followed and choices she made that got her to where she is today, but seeing Wade and his mini-me together with so much love for one another reminded her that she’d gotten a couple of things right. She took a drag from her cigarette and set it on the lip of the ash can on the end table next to her.
“I hear somebody’s got a big day tomorrow,” Wade teased, with Anthony looking up to him with worshipful eyes.
“Yeah!!!” Anthony exclaimed.
“Grandma McPherson tomorrow morning and getting down on the farm with Grandma and Grandpa Rosenquist tomorrow night?” Wade rhetorically asked.
“Do you think grandpa will take me for a tractor ride??!?” Anthony asked, his mind clearly gravitating toward the visit to the farm.
“I’m not sure,” Wade answered, looking at Courtney with a grin about their son’s enthusiasm. “It depends on if he needs to move any hay to the barn.”
“I hope so!” Anthony pondered gleefully.
“Could be that grandpa just needs your help to shovel manure all weekend though,” Wade teased.
Anthony frowned but only for a moment. “Whatever grandpa needs me for!” he conceded, eliciting a chuckle from Wade about his enthusiasm.
“Tell you what….” Wade continued. “Why don’t you head up to your bedroom and get your best heifer-milking, manure-shoveling, tractor-riding jeans and overalls picked out for the weekend while I talk to your mom, okay buddy?”
Anthony nodded vigorously, responding with an abrupt “Okay!” before doing a heel turn and racing to his bedroom.
Wade drifted into the living room, smirking at Courtney about Anthony’s euphoria over their monthly weekend getaway to his parents’ southern Minnesota dairy farm. “That kid’s gonna be tired tomorrow night!” he speculated.
Courtney nodded with preemptive exhaustion. “And we’re gonna be tired Saturday morning when he wakes us up to go milking at 4 a.m.”
Wade nodded in agreement as he crashed onto his old recliner, the piece of furniture in their living room that he knew was a safe place even in his greasy work clothes. He sighed as he rested his sore muscles and made eye contact with Courtney as she exhaled a stream of cigarette smoke that tipped off she was dealing with some exhaustion of her own.
“So you had to pick up Anthony from the daycare at your dad’s office earlier?” Wade inquired, recalling the text that Courtney had sent him. “Everything okay?”
Courtney shrugged with a hint of annoyance. “According my dad, everything’s okay. I know he’s covering for my mom.” She shook her head as her frustration escalated, taking another drag from her cigarette. “I just don’t know if I feel safe having Anthony alone with her.”
“Aww c’mon,” Wade scolded, sick of having this same conversation. “You know they wouldn’t have him come over if they weren’t sure they could keep Anthony safe. Get it out of your head!”
The excited slamming of closet doors from down the hall distracted Wade and Courtney for a moment, bringing a smile to Wade’s face before it transitioned to concern. He looked up to Courtney to relay this concern as soon as it popped into his head.
“I just don’t know if I’m doing the right thing with Anthony…..” Wade confessed. “Getting him hooked on farm life. I feel like maybe I’m trying to spend the lost time with my dead brother…..rather than my son.”
Courtney glared at him with a hint of annoyance, dragging again from her cigarette. Wade had blown off her concern about leaving Anthony with her mother and yet immediately rehashed the ghost of Wade’s dead brother at the Rosenquist farm that they’d analyzed to the ground so many times before. She kept her cool and finally responded through a talking exhale. “Anthony can’t get too hooked on the farm life when we only take him there once a month,” Courtney reminded.
Wade shrugged. “But you see how much he loves it. He’s gonna be twisting our arm to spend more time there as he gets older. And I just don’t know if it’s fair for him or for my parents…living vicariously through their grandson to make up for lost time with the son they lost.”
“Ugh!” Courtney groaned. “This is a little bit heavy to lay on me two minutes after you walk inside the door, don’t you think?”
Wade looked back at Courtney, this time with a reciprocal annoyance. One of his favorite fringe benefits of being married to Courtney was the free access to her analytical mind and therapeutic feedback. He cherished having a soulmate who he could speak openly with, especially about intensely private matters like the childhood death of his brother, and he was wondering why she was freezing him out right now.
“What’s wrong with you?” Wade asked with unusual defensiveness.
Courtney shook her head. “Nothing…..I’m sorry,” Courtney halfheartedly apologized. “I’ve just been spending all day dealing with people’s mental health issues and need a break.”
Wade could tell by her tone that she was at her wit’s end but continued to press in case she wanted to talk about it. “Rough day, huh?”
Courtney leaned back on the couch taking a final drag from her cigarette and crushing it out in the ash can. “Wasn’t great,” she tersely replied.
“When kids just a couple of years older than Anthony are having issues that haunt you this bad, that’s not a good sign,” Wade tempted, sensing as he had before that Courtney wanted to share more than she was letting on.
“Yeah,” Courtney agreed, her anguished stare speaking volumes beyond her words.
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here,” Wade offered.
Courtney looked back at him as though on the edge of opening up, but then backed away once again. “I can’t tell you much. You know….doctor-patient privilege.”
Wade nodded and then lowered his gaze. For years now, he could see in Courtney’s eyes that there was a personal story trapped inside there that he wanted her to share no matter how sordid, but Courtney never cooperated. Quietly conceding defeat once again, Wade prepared to leave. “Well,” he opened casually. “I better change out of my work clothes….and get all packed up for tomorrow.”
Courtney just watched as Wade stood up to walk away. Years ago, she told him about her sexual addiction and her teenage love affair with her former middle-aged boss, but there was still one huge piece of baggage she was keeping stored in her overhead compartment, and she sensed that Wade knew it. The incident with Lily Schmidt had brought Courtney’s attempted seduction of own her father back to the forefront of her consciousness today, and she struggled about whether she should process it alone. She felt bad that Wade was such a blank slate, pouring his soul out to her about every self-doubt he’d ever felt, while she was hanging on to this dark nugget from her past that she couldn’t bring herself to share with the man who trusted her most.
She plucked another Marlboro Light Menthol 100 out of her pack, placed it between her lips, and fired it up, reminding herself that if she ever did share this depraved anecdote from her past, there would be no way to put the toothpaste back in the tube. Wade may never feel the same about her again. On the other hand, keeping this to herself was clouding her judgment as a medical professional, and she figured it would be less ruinous to share with Wade than with Lucille Acevedo and potentially compromise her internship. As she exhaled another expansive stream of mentholated cigarette smoke, all she could hope for was some kind of sign that might guide her decision.
————————-
Trevor peeked out the curtains to notice that darkness had consumed the first day of fall. He looked to his phone to see that it was only 7:30, but it seemed like later and with the earlier sunsets of the new season, it looked later as well. He’d gotten a text from Lauren an hour ago saying she was on the way home and would pick up some dinner, but her continued absence left him anxious. It was another unproductive day and he needed Lauren’s presence to feel like himself again. It felt empty enough when she wasn’t there all day, but his inability to shake the feeling that Lauren was keeping secrets from him made her absence that much more agonizing. He sat back on the couch, his heart getting heavier with each passing moment.
Moments later, the familiar hum of an engine alerted Trevor that Lauren had finally arrived, opening the garage door, pulling up inside, and braking her car. Trevor’s heart raced in anticipation and he shook his head with shame for feeling like a teenager awaiting the arrival of a first date rather than a grown man awaiting the return of the long-time girlfriend he shared a home with. As he listened for the car engine to die and the garage door pulley to close soon thereafter, he leapt to his feet to head to the door.
Trevor arrived at the side door to the garage and opened it, and as expected, Lauren stood on the other side. The long-time lovers froze for a second and made an extended eye contact, a glimmer of guilt and mistrust evident to both behind the loving facade. The doubt withered away quickly though as Trevor visually evaluated the young woman whose return home he had waited for all day. The beautiful blond hair. The warm and loving smile that accentuated those weathered but striking features. The sleek black leather jacket and matching leather leggings that completed today’s bad girl aesthetic. And the bag of broasted chicken held in her left hand paired with the freshly lit all-white cigarette in her right hand.
And just as Trevor was processing the visual, the aroma drifted through the doorway that even more clearly defined Lauren’s essence. He always savored the moment she walked in the door, when the stale aroma of tobacco she left behind from the morning was reinforced with the intense odor of fresh smoke emanating from the inside and outside of her body. But as the overwhelming musk of cigarette smoke and leather wafted his way tonight, it was even more intoxicating than usual. The smell of the broasted chicken combined with the smoke, paired with Lauren’s lambskin armor, mimicked a huntress returning to her tribe, proudly wielding the trophy of a fresh kill. As she slinked inside the house looking and smelling like a panther, she inadvertently emitted a smorgasbord of animalistic pheromones that hit Trevor like a freight train.
“Chicken okay for tonight, baby?” Lauren asked as she took a drag from her cigarette, unaware just how deeply she had triggered Trevor’s primal lust.
As she pulled in for a kiss, Trevor grabbed hold of her with a passion he hadn’t felt in quite some time, inserting his tongue into her mouth just in time to get a faceful of her cigarette smoke at the exact moment of exhale. He aggressively groped her body, feeling as though he was taming the panther as his fingertips worked their way methodically around the circumference of the black leather encasing her.
Lauren quickly adjusted to Trevor’s unexpected ardor and reciprocated with an extended open-mouth kiss. She dropped the bag of chicken to the floor and wrapped both hands around his body, careful to avoid burning him with the cigarette protruding from her fingers. Whatever insecurities had restrained them at the moment they made eyes at the door were now a distant memory.
As Trevor finally got around to briefly separating his lips from hers, a familiar friskiness beamed from her face as she seized the opportunity to take a drag from her cigarette. “What’s gotten into you?” Lauren asked blissfully.
Trevor pulled in quickly for another kiss, again capturing her smoke as it was released from her respiratory system, extending the kiss for multiple moments. He pulled away and teased, “I guess I must have really been hungry for chicken.”
Lauren giggled, the innocence of her playful laughter contrasting with the husk of her smoker’s voice. “Especially the breasts and thighs!!” she teased as Trevor continue to straddle her body.
Her libido about to burst right through her tight-fitting clothes, Lauren grabbed hold of Trevor’s hand and began to lead him into the living room. Trevor began some teasing of his own as the two of them pulled in and out from continued loving kisses as they migrated. “Where are you taking me? The chicken’s gonna get cold.”
Lauren bit her lip before taking an aggressive puff from her cigarette. She leaned toward Trevor’s face until she was a couple of inches away and then exhaled through a lustful elevated whisper. “Fuck chicken!” Trevor consumed the carcinogens exiting her mouth and nose, watching her pursed lips begin to move again as she relayed her formal consent. “Better yet, fuck me!” she commanded with residual streams of smoke spilling directly into Trevor’s nostrils.
Lauren then took the lead, shoving Trevor onto the couch to watch her ensuing striptease. She danced suggestively in the middle of the living room floor, shaking her hips and advertising the leather-draped “dump truck” she promised Trevor that morning, even though she never did get the chance to work out today. She performatively disrobed her leather jacket and tossed it to the nearby recliner, fluttering her eyelashes at Trevor and wrapping her lips around the filter of her cigarette for a drag amidst their ongoing foreplay. She blew kisses at Trevor through smoke rings as she unbuttoned her white blouse and then flung it over her shoulders.
Trevor sat in awe, the diffidence that haunted him all day long drifted into the ether like the tendrils of Lauren’s cigarette smoke. He watched closely as Lauren reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, detaching the hooks from the eyes and letting the strap fall from her shoulder. She grabbed hold of the bra and swung it in the air as though preparing to lasso a steer, her cigarette reduced to a stub and dangling from her mouth. Her exposed breasts bobbing with her movements amidst a swirl of cigarette smoke, Trevor was reminded that nobody did foreplay better than his girl.
Lauren intended to release the bra to land in Trevor’s direction but let go just a bit prematurely, the undergarment going airborne and landing atop the printer on Trevor’s computer desk. A couple of sheets of paper fell out of the printer tray and onto the floor, and Trevor gasped as he realized what he had accidentally left there.
“Sorry,” Lauren giggled, turning around to pick up both her bra and the paper.
Trevor was poised to leap off the couch and intercept the papers before Lauren could get to them, but resigned himself to the fact that it was already too late as Lauren was leaning over to pick them up along with her bra. He knew he was busted as he watched Lauren’s smirk transition to a scowl upon taking a glance at the papers that had fallen to the floor. She scanned the content briefly while drifting to the coffee table to crush out her cigarette into an ash can.
“What is this, Trevor?” she asked as she studied it more closely, residual smoke trickling out of her mouth and nose. “You’re applying for a job at my dad’s company?”
Trevor sighed, disgusted with himself for not remembering to catalog the cover letter he wrote before Lauren got home. “Uh….maybe,” he stammered. “I don’t know yet. I wrote up a cover letter just in case.”
Lauren looked at him with a stunned disappointment. “Just in case what?”
Trevor shrugged, crushed that their sexual momentum was snuffed out as quickly as Lauren’s cigarette and even more crushed that he accidentally invited Lauren into his private hell despite his best efforts not to. He had no choice but to tell his story at this point.
“In case this writing fantasy doesn’t work out for me…of course!” Trevor closed with a flourish of anger entirely directed at himself.
Lauren sighed, having suspected that Trevor was feeling dejected and beaten down by his lack of success, but never hearing it from him directly until now.
“It’s not a fantasy Trevor,” Lauren consoled. “You are ridiculously talented! Way too talented to be a plumbing parts salesman for my dad.”
“Well I can’t just sit around every day waiting for my ship to come in and let you carry me through life forever,” Trevor confessed.
Lauren closed her eyes with sadness. She figured this conversation would come up sooner or later, and mentally prepared herself for when it would. She walked over to the recliner where she tossed her leather jacket and slipped it back on over her naked upper body. Trevor watched, knowing what she was doing and not confident that what she had in mind would be the right approach for either of them right now. Still, he could neither look away nor muster up the willpower to protest as she took another cigarette out of her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s, lit one up, and gravitated toward him with the cigarette dangling from her lips.
Lauren grabbed Trevor by the hand and sat down on the couch, guiding him to lie down on her lap. For years now, whenever Trevor was either down in the dumps or feeling particularly submissive, she cradled him back to emotional restoration. Trevor had never verbally conveyed his lingering oedipal attachment, but Lauren was emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on it and leverage it for both sexual and spiritual enrichment. As she looked down upon Trevor resting on her lap, his brown eyes staring back at her with unambiguous trust, she followed her instinct and began running her fingers affectionately through his light brown hair.
Trevor felt his tension disappear as he rested his head upon Lauren’s black leather leggings, savoring the scent and especially the visual. As he looked up to his beloved with her cigarette dangling from her lips, visibly gathering her thoughts before verbally conveying them, she just looked so commanding. Her blond hair glistening under the living room light and a veil of smoke surrounding her face, she was like a Nordic goddess leading the charge of a viking ship, and as her captor, all he could do was patiently await whatever verbal plunder awaited. As ill-advised as Lauren’s gambit seemed 60 seconds ago, Trevor was at this point fully sold on its utility even before she spoke her first word.
“I saw Karla today like I said,” Lauren opened, cigarette bobbing up and down from her lips as she spoke. “We chatted it up for a couple of hours and both of us kind of looked at each other from time to time wondering how two people so different ended up being friends. But you know what? There was nothing I did right to get me where I am today compared to Karla. My only accomplishment was being the daughter of a family that owns a successful company.”
Trevor was about to interrupt and push back against Lauren’s self-deprecation but before he could speak, she put her finger over his lips to signal her preference for continued silence until she finished her thought.
Lauren removed the cigarette from her mouth just long enough to ash it and then placed it back between her lips and resumed. “Trust me when I tell you that doesn’t feel good. And if it doesn’t feel good for me, imagine what it would feel like for you. Just think of how it would feel if 10 years from now, we both still depended on my dad for our paychecks.”
“I can think of worse things,” Trevor shared, his eyes wandering around to draw attention to their home that Lauren had single-handedly attained for them at such a young age because of working for her father.
“You’re right,” Lauren agreed. “We have a good life because of my job and I’m very grateful for that. But you shouldn’t feel like you need to compete with my income when you should be pursuing your dream. It’s not like you don’t contribute already. You’re still doing your feature stories for Minnesota Great Outdoors.”
Trevor chuckled. “The money I make from that doesn’t even cover the grocery bill.”
“That’s not the point, Trevor,” Lauren pushed back. “I have a good and stable income and it provides you a special opportunity to pursue your dream so you can do something more fulfilling with your life. It’s a gift most writers don’t have. You don’t have to let macho pride get in the way of that.”
Trevor struggled to argue his case as intensively as he’d prefer lying in Lauren’s arms with her fingers running through his hair, his bodily comfort proving so disarming. Still, this was his moment to let her know what was on his mind.
“But it’s been over a year, Lauren,” Trevor reminded. “Nobody wants to pay writers for anything anymore. How long do you want me to keep looking for somebody who will before admitting defeat?”
“I’m not putting a time limit on that and neither should you,” Lauren responded, continuing to speak through her dangling cigarette. “There will be time to reassess down the road but not until you’ve finished that novel you’re writing and let the world have time to read it.”
Trevor listened but couldn’t find the heart to tell her the novel was sinking in writers’ block quicksand. The devotion he had for Lauren right now, listening as she expressed her uncompromising faith in him, ran deeper than he’d ever felt it before. He scolded himself for believing she was keeping secrets as recently as the moment their eyes met when he opened the door tonight.
As always, Lauren sensed Trevor was at the apex of a full sensory moment in her arms and proceeded to open her leather jacket to fully expose her left breast. She gently guided Trevor’s face toward it and watched as he tenderly began sucking her nipple. The gentle moans that ensued let Trevor know that even in this submissive state, literally and figuratively, he was serving the role he needed to right now in their household.
Nursing from her breast, Trevor raised his left eye to see Lauren’s expression. With her free hand, Lauren removed the dangling cigarette from her lips and proceeded to blow perfect, symmetrical smoke rings into his face one after another until her lungs were empty.
Enjoying Trevor in this most vulnerable position, she decided it was a good time for more words of encouragement she’d been keeping to herself for too long.
“Maybe you don’t remember when I was the one who hit bottom and you were the one on top of the world….but I sure do,” Lauren reminded as Trevor continued to feed from her bosom. “I bombed my ACTs. I was waitressing at the Lakeside Bistro. I was losing touch with my friends. I had to testify against that piece of shit Dusty Beaudry. It was clear my life was going nowhere worth talking about. All that was going on that summer before senior year, but what hurt me most was thinking you were heading for big things and you’d outgrow little old Lauren from the cabin next door.”
She paused to take another drag from her cigarette and then continued, “But you didn’t. You reassured me that you wouldn’t and you kept your word. You went off to college and I stuck around home twisting my dad’s arm to set me up with a job. And now, I know that when the time comes that you do accomplish big things, you’ll still be standing by me and you’ll keep your word the same way you did when those sorority girls at school were trying to get down your pants….”
Trevor chuckled at Lauren’s exaggerated characterization, putting further oral pressure on her breast that he continued sucking.
Lauren made aggressive eye contact before making her closing comment. “Give me a chance to repay you for that, okay?”
Trevor stared up at her lovingly, listening to the sizzle of her cigarette extinguishing into the ash can on the end table. He sucked more aggressively on her nipple as he realized she’d told him everything she needed to say. Her moans began to amplify in response and despite the long odds, they’d recaptured the sexual momentum they both figured was dead at the moment Lauren found Trevor’s cover letter addressed to her father. She reached down to his lower body and slipped her hand under his pants to see if he was as excited as she was. The second she felt the tent pole pitched down there, she knew the time had finally arrived to pounce.
Trevor was launched into motion with the slightest nudge from Lauren, rising to his feet and taking her with him en route to the bedroom. There would be plenty of time to eat chicken and pour over the details of Lauren’s doctor’s appointment later. Right now, the primal call of intimacy was howling and they were determined to follow it.
Lauren placed another cigarette between her lips as they approached the bed, handing Trevor her lighter so he could spark it up for her. After dutifully producing the flame that brought her latest cigarette to life, she gave Trevor a gentle shove before he fell backward onto the mattress with a theatrical flourish. He abruptly stripped off his clothes and tossed them to the side of the bed, hopeful that Lauren still respected him enough to be turned on by his naked body after his admittedly pathetic display on the couch that she engineered. The frisky look on her face as she tossed off her leather jacket for the second time in the last 10 minutes washed away all of Trevor’s doubts.
Trevor gently stroked himself as he watched Lauren surrender her wardrobe. As she peeled off the leather leggings and panties to reveal the fair-skinned blond girl underneath the armor, Trevor mused that the panther on the prowl who walked in the door had morphed into a lynx in heat. The tendrils of smoke spewing from her mouth functioned as the frosty breath of a feral predator seizing upon her mate in the snowy Scandinavian fjords.
As Lauren climbed onto the bed with mischievous moves and a libido that wouldn’t quit, Trevor knew that the moment called for his continued vulnerability while she took charge. He wouldn’t allow himself to go on like this forever, inside or outside of the bedroom, but he was eternally grateful to Lauren for giving him the grace to submit to her leadership at moments like this when he needed it. And as he felt her body descend upon his, hearing her passion at the moment of penetration, he was reminded again just how good Lauren was in a leadership role.
—————-
The next morning, Trevor laid in bed by himself listening to a hair dryer running in the bathroom. Lauren was getting ready for work again and he was awaiting the opportunity to see her one last time before she left. Since she was content with an apple for breakfast this morning, Trevor didn’t need to get up to prepare a meal and nodded off while she was showering. He typically felt emasculated laying in bed while Lauren was getting ready for work, but after last night’s conversation, his insecurities had atrophied enough to enjoy the vision of a freshly showered Lauren start her day from the comfort of his mattress. As the bathroom door opened, he could feel his heartbeat accelerate knowing that her arrival was imminent.
In a second, Lauren walked into the bedroom, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips. The previous day’s edgy leather wardrobe was replaced by a maroon sweatshirt and blue jeans, and Trevor smiled both at the wardrobe contrast and his memories of last night.
“Morning baby,” Lauren muttered through her dangling cigarette, hustling in the direction of her purse.
“Morning…” Trevor replied groggily before the addendum reminder. “TGIF!”
“Yes!” Lauren exclaimed in response before tempering her body language as she recalled Haylee’s offer to go camping over the weekend, an offer she felt guilty for not accepting.
“Busy Friday ahead or will you be able to ease into the end of the week?” Trevor asked.
Lauren shrugged as she foraged through her purse for a scrunchie, squinting her eyes through the abrasive fog of her own cigarette smoke. “Shouldn’t be too bad,” she responded as she found the scrunchie and used it to wrap her hair in a ponytail.
Looking back to her purse, Lauren laid eyes on the Toro cigar in the small tube that she’d planned to smoke yesterday at the casino. The mere sight of it triggered the jingling melody of video poker machines in her mind and sent her adrenaline soaring, but she resisted. Looking at Trevor, she had a better idea. Grinning mischievously, Lauren removed the stogie from her purse and walked toward the bed, leaning over and approaching Trevor.
Cigarette dangling from her lips only inches from Trevor’s face, she held the cigar up in her lover’s field of vision. “How would you like if I smoked this for you tonight?”
Trevor fluttered his eyebrows approvingly. “What’s the occasion?” he asked, knowing that Lauren only treated him to a cigar a few times a year.
Lauren shrugged playfully. “As you said, TGIF,” she teased, reaching up to remove the cigarette from her mouth and then giving him a goodbye kiss on the lips. “Gotta go, baby!”
“I wrapped up some of last night’s chicken for your lunch today,” Trevor reminded. “Should be on the top shelf of the fridge.”
“I’ll be sure to grab it,” Lauren replied with a wink as she prepared to leave the bedroom.
“Any idea when you’ll be home tonight?” Trevor called out before she disappeared.
Lauren did a hard pivot at the door frame to make eye contact with him. Confident in her ability to steer clear of her gambling addiction at least for today, Lauren responded definitively. “I think I’ll cut out a little early today. How does 3:30 sound?” she asked.
“Sounds four hours better than 7:30,” Trevor replied in reference to her late arrival the previous night.
A smile beamed around Lauren’s face, stilted by the stub of her dangling cigarette just as Trevor preferred it. “It’s a date!” she closed before exiting the room.
Trevor rested his head back on the pillow, savoring the lingering aroma of Lauren’s smoke still at the tip of his nose. His smile grew wider as he reflected upon the previous night’s intimacy and her unwavering tolerance toward his slow-to-launch career. As the previous night’s imagery of Lauren’s various phases of cats of prey pranced through his brain, his eyes lit up with an epiphany. A feature story about cats of prey native to Minnesota would be perfect for Minnesota Great Outdoors.
As Trevor continued to entertain the notion, the ideas just kept entering his mind on how to organize the feature with a photo spread on bobcats and lynxes and the rising tide of mountain lion sightings in the state. He hadn’t felt genuine inspiration for writing something in quite some time, and now that he did, his original plan to sleep in this morning had surrendered to ambition.
Trevor tossed off the covers and sprung out of bed, gravitating toward his computer desk for the first morning in weeks. He just had to pass this idea along to Minnesota Great Outdoors editor Stewart Hawkins in hopes of getting the green light for this story idea in the next publication. It was admittedly a modest victory, but it was the closest he’d gotten to a win in recent memory. Trevor couldn’t help but smirk that Lauren was both the inspiration and the inadvertent source material for his boomlet of creative inspiration.
—————–
Courtney and Anthony walked into the home Courtney grew up in, ready to drop Anthony off to spend the day with grandma despite her lingering unease. She dragged from her Marlboro Light Menthol 100 as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Morning, grandma,” Anthony greeted as he approached Becky for a hug.
“Good morning Anthony,” Becky responded warmly as she knelt down to accept Anthony’s hug, her husky smoker’s voice rattling Anthony a bit as he realized his mom would probably sound like that someday.
Grandma and grandson pulled apart, and Becky looked up to make eye contact with Courtney, hoping yesterday afternoon’s unannounced road trip to her mother’s grave site hadn’t found its way to Courtney’s ears. But observing Courtney’s hesitation, Becky knew that Courtney had heard about it and had reservations about leaving her son there.
Becky then looked back to Anthony. “Who’s ready to pick apples and make some cider today?”
“Me!!!” Anthony exclaimed with a preschooler’s enthusiasm.
“Me too!” Becky responded vigorously before cutting loose a modest smoker’s cough. “Ron and Janice are gonna drive us down to the orchard at 9,” she added, evoking the names to the Murphys next door as much for Courtney’s benefit as Anthony’s in hopes of easing her mind.
“Between the orchard and the farm, you’re gonna be bouncing around like a rubber ball today,” Courtney said with a smile to Anthony, mother and daughter both talking to each other through him.
“Oh that’s right. You guys are heading to the farm after work tonight,” Becky responded, finally engaging directly with Courtney.
Courtney was about to respond when her father entered the smoky kitchen dressed in his work clothes.
“Morning, grandpa!” Anthony greeted.
“Morning there, buddy!” Steve responded, tensing up a bit when he saw Becky and Courtney standing together and hoping he wouldn’t have to do any mediating before heading out the door. “Where’s Haylee this morning?” he changed the subject.
“Oh I think she’s playing hooky,” Becky responded. “Last night, she said she was going camping up north for the weekend….again,” she added with a hint of frustration.
Steve just shook his head, trying to figure out a way to get through to his youngest daughter just as he’d been doing for most of the 21 years she’d been alive, unaware as of yet just how serious her situation had become.
“It’s her loss!” Becky pivoted. “This place is gonna smell like apples and cinnamon when you get home from work today, Steve,” she reminded, projecting enthusiasm for the room.
“You guys are gonna leave some for me, right?” Steve responded as he looked at Anthony.
“Maybe!” Anthony teased.
“Ohhhh, c’mon now!” Steve played along, tickling Anthony and unlocking his grandson’s youthful laughter.
“The Murphys know the family in Montgomery that runs the orchard so we’re gonna get dibs on their best. Galas…honeycrisps. It sounds wonderful,” Becky shared, averting her eyes back and forth between Steve and Courtney and hoping she was winning Courtney over.
Dragging from her cigarette, Courtney listened carefully to her mom, trying to get a read on how good of a day she was having. Becky’s condition was unpredictable but her enthusiasm was palpable this morning and Courtney was more at peace with leaving Anthony there than expected. Courtney appreciated that this wouldn’t be the only judgment call she’d be forced to make today regarding an adult’s fitness to care for a child. The personal stakes were higher for Courtney to trust Becky with her son, but the professional stakes were more serious with her pending decision as a mandatory reporter to authorize an investigation into Lily Schmidt’s mother and stepfather. In both cases, she was going against her gut. She was putting her trust in her loving mother to do what was best for Anthony despite the warning signs while also putting her trust in the school district to protect Lily from threats in her home whether they were real or imagined.
“Well it sounds like you two are gonna have a lovely fall day. Thanks for taking him, mom,” Courtney offered through a talking exhale, finally looking at her mother with a loving smile intended as an informal blessing.
Becky beamed with elation before Courtney pulled in for an extended hug, grateful for the opportunity and determined not to blow it. Courtney then hugged her father and gave Anthony a kiss.
“You be good for grandma, okay,” Courtney reminded Anthony. “I’ll be back to pick you up around 4.”
“If you need some time to pack up before heading to the farm, maybe I can drop him off at your place after work,” Steve offered.
“Umm, thanks for the offer,” Courtney replied as she dragged from her cigarette with a hint of mischief. “But I think I’m gonna take Wade and Anthony somewhere before we head off to the farm,” she added as though she had been scheming something for a while.
—————
Sporting a shit-eating grin for the ages, Jarrod lugged a duffel bag and water bottle to Haylee’s waiting car in the driveway. His father Eric followed behind him with a collapsible tent in its packaging.
Haylee stepped out of the car to help, decked out in a pink tanktop and black jean shorts with a freshly lit Camel Pink No. 9 dangling from her lips.
“Backseat or trunk?” Eric asked as he lugged the tent, his wife Jessica following.
“Uh, let’s go with the backseat,” Haylee responded. “I don’t think there’s room for both tents in my trunk.”
Eric nodded as Haylee held the back door open for him. He slipped the tent inside and looked up to Haylee and Jarrod.
“You guys sure got a nice day,” Eric announced as he looked to the sky.
“Absolutely!” Haylee agreed with atypical good cheer. “The forecast showed it’s gonna be nice all weekend. I probably wouldn’t have even gone if they were calling for rain or fog.”
Jessica shook her head in agreement. “Yeah, nothing worse than driving up to the North Shore and not being able to see the lake because of the fog.”
“Happens a lot,” Haylee concurred, cigarette bobbing between her lips as she belched out smoke.
Jarrod was already looking up at her in awe, respecting the combination of youthful beauty and life experience she espoused, reinforcing his childhood impressions and giving him the feels before he even sat in her passenger seat. His reverie was interrupted as his mother doted on him.
“Have a good trip, you guys,” Jessica offered with a hug, eliciting a blush from Jarrod. “And you be sure to do what Haylee tells you. She’s in charge this weekend just like when she was your babysitter.”
“Yes mother!” Jarrod responded with a sarcastic flair, part of him mortified at his mother’s infantilizing while another part was processing his mother’s comment of Haylee being “in charge” straight into the adolescent gutter.
“I’ll give you guys a call when we get to the campsite,” Haylee muttered through a fog of smoke that she carried with her into the car as she climbed inside and sat behind the wheel.
Jarrod fastened his seat belt in the passenger seat, unable to wait to get out of his parents’ gaze so he could fully take in this moment. He took a deep breath to indulge his senses with the dense smoky aroma of Haylee’s natural habitat for the first time in years.
“Safe travels,” Eric called out and both he and Jessica waved goodbye.
“See you on Sunday,” Jessica concurred, a hint of emotion in her voice sending her boy out on this adventure.
Haylee gave them the thumbs-up as she put the car in reverse and backed out. The most unlikely fusion of worlds was officially underway. Jarrod was breathless and at a temporary loss for words as he looked at Haylee from the corner of his eye, taking in all the tanned and well-toned flesh exposed on her legs, arms, and midriff. As she reached to the console to retrieve her sunglasses, Jarrod’s stealth side-eye peek accidentally transitioned into an open-mouthed gawk, watching his former teenage babysitter who was now very much a woman completing her badass presentation by putting on her shades. She puckered up her lips around the dangling cigarette like it was an extension of her face, bursts of smoke spilling out with every subsequent breath just as she’d been doing going back to Jarrod’s earliest memories of her.
Suddenly, Haylee turned to look at him, noticing he was staring. “Staring problem?” she asked lightheartedly but accusatorily.
Jarrod gulped, horrified that he managed to get himself busted already. “Uh….” he stammered while trying to come up with a cogent response, “…I was just thinking you might be cold in a tanktop and shorts when we get there. Doesn’t it get really cold at night up there?”
Haylee smirked through her dangling cigarette, smoke continually streaming from her face as she answered. “Don’t worry about me. I got a couple changes of clothes. Plenty of blankets too.”
Jarrod nodded, relieved that he dodged a bullet. “Anything to eat?”
“Not yet,” Haylee replied. “I’ve gotta stop for gas before we get on the freeway. I can pick up some snacks for us. What do you like?”
Jarrod shrugged as he thought it over. “I don’t know. Doritos….Mountain Dew.”
“Anything sweet?” Haylee asked. “I’m probably gonna get a couple of Kit Kats. Maybe a little beef jerky.”
“Sure. That’s cool,” Jarrod responded, struck by how much adult Haylee was still like teenage babysitter Haylee.
“As for dinner, how do you feel about roasting hot dogs at the campfire?” Haylee asked, her fluttering eyebrows rising and falling in tandem with the cigarette stub dangling from her lips. “And s’mores for dessert?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jarrod smiled back agreeably.
“Awesome,” Haylee replied with spirit. “We’ll pick them up at the supermarket near the campgrounds.”
Jarrod found Haylee’s enthusiasm contagious, especially since he always got more attitude than enthusiasm from her when she babysat him….and he really hoped it would last all weekend.
“You really love camping, huh?” Jarrod pressed. “I don’t remember that from before.”
Haylee crushed out her cigarette into the overflowing ash can in her console, smoke spraying from her mouth and nose as she answered. “I’ve gotten into it the last few years. The camping itself is okay. It’s mostly just about getting away. I like the freedom of it. My parents have a cabin up by Bemidji. I suppose I could just as easily head up there…and sometimes I do. But other times I just want to get out and see different places…and put my normal life in the rear view for a couple of days.”
Jarrod nodded and listened along to Haylee’s introspection, already feeling he was having an out-of-body experience being treated as the equal of the goddess he spent so many formative years worshiping. He had feared it would be awkward for both of them to spend the weekend in such close quarters but he was very pleased by the strong start.
“Your parents said you guys went camping once….” Haylee continued. “What did you think?”
“Well, it was kind of a disaster actually,” Jarrod confessed. “There was a band playing loud music across the campgrounds and they kept us up half the night. And when they finally stopped playing, the heavy rain started.”
Haylee let out a husky and infectious laugh. “Yeah, you run into that sort of thing once in a while. We shouldn’t have to worry about the rain this weekend. You never know who’s gonna have the campsite next to yours though so I can’t make any promises about a good night’s sleep.”
“Anything that gets me out of science class this afternoon is worth it,” Jarrod responded with an impish smirk, pleased with himself for playing it pretty cool thus far in the presence of the high priestess of coolness.
Haylee smiled back but it dissolved into melancholy as she was reminded that her real reason for fleeing to the north woods this weekend was no more mature than that of her seventh-grade road trip buddy.
She looked ahead to see the gas station. “Here’s my stop,” she announced, pulling into the parking lot. She parked the car and stepped out, immediately sticking her credit card into the gas pump.
Jarrod sat in the passenger seat, finally inhaling as deeply as he’d wanted to since he got into the car. He took in the acrid aroma of stale smoke embedded into the upholstery, the sight of ash scattered about throughout the interior, and the yellowish nicotine tint that glazed the windshield of Haylee’s citadel on wheels. He was struck that all of these things that used to disgust him when he rode in his grandpa’s car pushed him to a state of blissful sensory overload when it was the byproduct of Haylee McPherson’s everyday world.
Jarrod glanced at the driver’s side mirror and took in the reflection of Haylee’s decadent female curves as she leaned on the car pumping gas. His heart rate accelerated as he studied the way her chest filled out that feminine pink tanktop, the way her ass stretched the tight black denim on those daisy dukes to their limit, and how her sun-kissed legs still carried the legacy of the summer that just ended. He chuckled to himself that the pubescent version of himself was able to find things to admire about Haylee that the early elementary version of himself never even thought about.
As he saw Haylee removing the nozzle and putting it back into the gas pump, Jarrod quickly averted his gaze and pretended to have been looking at his phone the whole time. Seconds later, Haylee poked her head through the open driver’s side window.
“I’m gonna head inside to pick out our snacks,” Haylee informed. “You want to come in and make sure to get what you want?”
“No that’s okay. I trust you,” Jarrod answered with a nervous grin.
“Do you want to go in and use the bathroom?” Haylee asked. “I’d rather not stop until we get to Duluth so now’s the time to go.”
“I’m good. I just went before I left home,” Jarrod responded, suddenly appearing as though he was in a hurry for Haylee to leave.
“Okay,” Haylee responded with a hint of confusion. “I warned you.”
Jarrod watched as Haylee proceeded to the gas station’s entrance, exhaling intensely and reaching for the fly of his jeans. He unfastened the buckle and unzipped the fly, reaching his hand for his erect penis with an overwhelming impulse to rub one out in this brief interlude. But just as his hand penetrated his underwear’s waistband and wrapped around the circumference of his instrument, the screeching tires of an SUV approaching the adjacent gas pump stopped Jarrod in his tracks. He conceded to himself with disappointment that he didn’t have enough time or enough privacy to risk pulling this off. Hard as it was to control his young body, he pulled his hand out of his pants and zipped them back up with the hope of being able to fulfill this vital bodily function later.
Breathing heavily was Jarrod’s only outlet for the surge of sexual energy pulsating through his body. He squinted his eyes out the windshield to make sure Haylee wasn’t coming back yet and then thrust his left hand into the ash can in her console. It had been four years since he last fetched any of Haylee’s smoky souvenirs, but if any occasion called for a trophy seizure, this was it. The familiar feeling of lip gloss and saliva graced Jarrod’s fingertips, his adrenaline soaring as he lifted a half dozen cigarette butts from the top of the pile. He lifted them to his nose for an upclose whiff, confident that all of them he held in his hand had been smoked by Haylee today. He savored the aroma before stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans.
Jarrod’s depraved banditry of Haylee’s tobacco debris wasn’t quite as gratifying as masturbation would have been, but it came close. And the best part was that he knew Haylee would be back in the car in a few moments, spending the rest of the drive replenishing the ash can with fresh Camel Pink No. 9s to replace the ones he pocketed.
———–
Becky sat on the back porch of her home, seated on the patio furniture and taking in the early afternoon sunshine. Holding her cell phone to her ear while dragging from a Marlboro Red, her brain was clearly buffering as she tried to find the correct answers from her memory bank to provide her son Trevor on the other end of the call.
“Oh, uh…..the town with the big Catholic church,” Becky scrambled. “Browerville!” she exclaimed as she finally came up with the answer.
“Right, right. Good job,” Trevor complimented, engaging his mother with one of his trademark quizzes. “That’s 12. There’s five more,” he pressed.
Becky searched her memory bank again, hoping to come up with more names of the small Minnesota towns they drive through on the way up to their cabin in Bemidji. Trevor gave her these quizzes a couple days a week during their near-daily phone calls, covering topics ranging from old TV shows to the various cars they owned to the doctors she worked under at the hospital over the years. Trevor was convinced that the quizzes kept his mother cognitively engaged and that it helped in some way to slow the progression of her dementia. Maybe Trevor was onto something here or maybe he wasn’t, but Becky loved her son for putting forth the effort with such fun and creative cognitive exercises.
“Uh….Sebeka?” Becky asked with little confidence, pronouncing the name incorrectly.
“Sa-bee-ka,” Trevor corrected her with the right enunciation. “Close enough.”
Becky laughed, taking another drag from her Marlboro Red and thinking she had come up with another. “Walker?”
“Well, sort of,” Trevor corrected. “That’s a town we drive through when we go ‘the other way’ home, so I don’t think I can count that among the 17.”
“Ugh!” Becky teased through a talking exhale, pretending to be annoyed. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“Only four left,” Trevor reminded, surprised how much he was enjoying this and hoping that his mom was too.
“I think I’m gonna have to wave the white flag at this point, Trevor,” Becky replied lightheartedly, crushing her cigarette out into the patio ash can.
“Alright….well you did better than I expected,” Trevor announced. “The four you missed are Hewitt, Albany, Melrose, and Avon.”
“Oh yes…..I should have remembered Avon,” Becky mused before looking up to see her grandson drifting too far out in the backyard. “Anthony, honey, come a little closer so grandma can see you,” she called out before returning her attention to the phone call. “Sorry Trevor.”
“No worries,” Trevor replied, taking the reins to change the subject. “So how long has the cider been brewing on the stove?”
“Couple of hours now,” Becky replied enthusiastically while watching her blond-haired grandson move closer as requested. “Should be ready any time. Anthony can barely wait.”
“Wish I could come over and have some myself,” Trevor responded with a smile.
“Oh you and Lauren should come over when she gets home,” Becky offered. “Not every day you get to have cider made with freshly picked Galas.”
“I’d love to but we’re having dinner with Lauren’s parents tonight,” Trevor reminded. “We get to meet Brian’s new girlfriend from college.”
“Oh my!” Becky replied with a laugh as she lit up a new Marlboro Red, the explosion of carcinogens reflective of her curiosity. “You’ll have to tell me tomorrow how that went.”
Becky became distracted as she heard soft murmurs of “ouch! ouch!” coming from Anthony in the yard. She squinted her eyes to study him in hopes of determining the source of his mild exclamations of pain. And as he came staggering closer, she became more concerned that the issue may have been more serious than Anthony’s mild protests indicated, particularly when spotting red spots on his neck.
“Trevor, can I call you back?” Becky rhetorically requested a second before cutting the call and walking toward her grandson, cigarette dangling from her mouth.
Becky began to panic with each step closer to Anthony, noticing that his face and lips were swelling up and that redness was consuming his neck. As she put her hand on him, she could see the raised skin of hives all over his neck spreading to his cheeks.
“Oh my God!” Becky exclaimed. “Anthony, do you feel okay?”
“I feel itchy,” he complained, raising his hands to his neck and chest to scratch them.
“Oh don’t do that, baby!” Becky pleaded through her dangling cigarette. “It’ll just make it worse.”
She paused for a second as she listened to her grandson’s whines of discomfort, suspecting that he was having an anaphylactic reaction but was unclear about the source. She listened for shortness of breath and was relieved she wasn’t hearing any, at least yet.
“Talk to me, Anthony,” Becky asked, trying to quickly determine the source before making her next move. “Were you in my flowers? I won’t be mad if you were,” she asked as she pointed to her flower garden in the back of the yard.
“No, grandma,” Anthony pleaded. “I wasn’t….I swear.”
Becky visually scanned the yard, wondering what the trigger could have been before her eyes landed on the bags of apples they picked which she laid at the foot of the patio. She hustled up to take a closer look as saw a cluster of bees buzzing around them, instantly realizing that Anthony must have been stung and that it was indeed an anaphylactic reaction. Looking at Anthony again and noticing the redness and swelling on his face and neck were worse than ever, she knew this situation would call for more than a couple of antihistamine tablets to rectify.
Smoke spewing from her mouth, Becky breathed from her cigarette like it was an extension of her body as she sprung into action as a medical professional. “Anthony, do grandma a favor and lie down on the grass.”
“What for?” Anthony asked, continuing to resist the urge to scratch the hives still covering his upper body.
“Just lie down flat on your back, Anthony…..just like you’re about to go to sleep,” Becky ordered, running to grab a pot and propping Anthony’s legs up on it to keep them elevated. “Grandma’s gonna be back in a minute, Anthony. Just stay lying still exactly like this until I get back, okay?” she requested, doing her best to hide her panic as she positioned him in the safest possible way to keep the anaphylactic reaction from potentially worsening.
Becky then sprung to her feet, finally removing the dangling cigarette from her mouth and tossing it to the ground as she raced as quickly as she could to her car in the garage. Her smoked-out lungs getting their biggest workout in quite some time, she hustled through the garage and popped open her trunk, snaring her first aid kit that she always carried with her for a medical emergency that might pop up outside of the hospital just as was happening today.
Her breathing became even more labored as she ran back to the yard, hoping Anthony’s condition wasn’t getting worse. She collapsed to her knees in front of Anthony as he miserably grinded his fingernails into the flesh of his upper body to combat the hives. Becky proceeded to unbuckle his pants and pull them down to his knees, exposing his bare thighs. She readied the EpiPen in her hand that she took out of the first aid kit, about to make her big move.
“Keep your mouth closed and your tongue inside, Anthony!” Becky warned, making eye contact with him as a heads-up that he was about to feel some pain. Before Anthony had a chance to protest, she plunged the needle from the EpiPen into his thigh and injected the full dose of epinephrine into his young body.
Anthony screamed in pain from the shot but Becky was confident that it was the right call. Extracting the syringe from his thigh, she crawled on up toward him to check his vitals and monitor the swelling. His cries of agony were painful for Becky to listen to, but as she noticed the hives and swelling begin to rapidly retreat, relief filled her body and soul.
“Oh Anthony,” Becky gushed with affection and relief, hugging her grandson and pulling in to kiss him on the forehead. “I think you’re gonna be okay.”
Despite his continued pain from the shot and the itching that hadn’t gone away, Anthony began to settle down, comforted by his grandmother’s presence and confident that she had taken care of whatever was wrong with him. She wiped tears from Anthony’s eyes and then wiped a couple of tears from her own. She continued to gently embrace her grandson, her damaged lungs still gasping for air from the exertion. She chuckled for a moment as she appreciated that her breathing was more labored from smoking than her patient’s was from anaphylaxis.
Becky realized that she’d have to call the EMS just as a final precaution, but was fairly confident that the crisis had been averted and he wouldn’t need hospitalization. For all of her doubts about whether she could trust herself to be alone with Anthony with her cognitive condition, Becky decided he was pretty to lucky to have his grandmother’s medical background at his disposal this afternoon.
—————-
Trevor sat on the couch, glancing at his phone every few moments and wondering if everything was okay with his mom after she so abruptly ended their call. His phone dinged with a text message from Becky describing the situation with Anthony but that everything seemed to be okay and that she was closely monitoring him. Trevor wrote back to express his relief and a request to let him know if the situation evolved.
Seconds later, Trevor’s phone began ringing. He assumed it would be his mother but was a bit surprised when the name Stewart popped up on his caller ID, referring to his editor at Minnesota Great Outdoors.
“Hey,” Trevor answered, expecting to get feedback on his story pitch about cats of prey from this morning.
“Trevor!” Stewart responded with an unusually chipper tone. “It’s your lucky day!”
“Okay…” Trevor reacted, curious about Stewart’s cryptic introduction. “You liked my wild cat story idea that much, huh?”
“Uh, yeah….sure. It’s great. Go ahead and get on that for next month,” Stewart confirmed. “But that’s not why I’m calling. If you’re not sitting down, I’d recommend doing so, because I have some news that I think you’re gonna like.”
Trevor was thoroughly intrigued. “I’m sitting down and all ears,” he prodded, eager to hear Stewart break down this good news that Trevor desperately hoped would live up to expectations.
—————————
Two hours later, Trevor was plugging away at his keyboard, driven by an intensity he hadn’t felt at the keyboard for as far back as he could remember. It wasn’t until the side door attached to the garage opened that he even realized Lauren was home, having forgotten she planned to take off at 3:00 today.
“I’m home, baby,” Lauren called out at the door, stunned that Trevor wasn’t greeting her there as he usually did.
“Just a second,”Trevor bit his lip for a moment and continued typing, making sure that he finished his thought before taking a hiatus and relaying his big news.
Lauren walked into the living room, cigarette in hand, eyeballing Trevor’s apparent productivity and feeling pleasantly surprised. “You must really be on a roll,” she mused, dragging from her cigarette.
Trevor looked back at Lauren with a goofy grin that she hadn’t seen in quite some time, taking in the youthful femininity of today’s conservative presentation in sweatshirts, jeans, and ponytail and its contrast with the cigarette between her fingers and the wall of her tobacco stench invading his airspace. Taking a second to get back on task, Trevor finally responded.
“You could say that!” Trevor paused to stand up and approach her, building some suspense for the gravity of the news he was about to drop.
Lauren beamed as she began to appreciate that Trevor’s animation telegraphed something extraordinary was about to be dropped on her.
“I got a call from Stewart Hawkins a couple of hours ago,” Trevor began, on the cusp of hyperventilating with excitement. “He apparently has some connections with film studio executives and he was able to cash in on them to sell them on ‘a promising young writer at his magazine’. You know Stewart…he’s never been able to get over that we spotted that mother moose and her calves by the cabins up in Bemidji when we were in high school. Well, he apparently showed that studio executive some of my writing and sold him on the idea of turning our moose sighting story into a movie, and you’ll never guess who they’re commissioning to write the screenplay.”
Lauren’s jaw dropped in elated astonishment, quickly appreciating that Trevor was delivering on the hype of his big news. “That’s amazing, baby!” she encouraged, embracing Trevor tightly and holding back the emotion. “You’ve been waiting so long and trying so hard for your big break,” she added, squeezing him tighter.
As the hug broke up, Lauren peeked past Trevor to the computer screen he was just sitting in front of. “Looks like you’re already getting started,” she mused.
“Yeah, yeah….I’m already writing the outline,” Trevor responded with an enthusiasm that seemed alien to him just 24 hours earlier. “I must have cranked out seven pages in just the last hour.”
Lauren giggled joyously. “Maybe you’d like me to go back to work so you can focus on your writing,” she teased.
Trevor chuckled. “Nah, I got a pretty good ground floor going. I’ll put it on ice for the weekend and get rolling again on Monday.”
Lauren nodded, taking a deep drag from her cigarette. “That sounds like a plan,” pausing to exhale a celebratory stream of smoke into his face before adding, “So how do you think this will all play out? Are they actually gonna make a movie with your screenplay byline?”
Trevor’s elation abated just a bit as he prepared to lay out the qualifiers. “Since this is the movie business, nobody can say for sure. Stewart said they’re prepared to sign me to a contract for the script later this month but the studio may decide to sit on the project for years or farm it out to guild writers on the studio payroll. Bottom line though: once I sign that screenplay contract, it’s a done deal.”
“That’s amazing!” Lauren glowed. “And how much will you get paid?”
“Well…” Trevor opened, setting her up for diminished expectations. “Stewart was able to bid the executive up to $8,000. That’s not exactly life-changing money but for a rookie screenwriter not in the guild, that’s actually above-average.”
Lauren tried to camouflage her initial disappointment in the dollar figure with encouragement, keeping the excitement level at the place she felt it deserved as she took another drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, $8,000 is nothing to complain about.”
“But the real upside potential comes if the movie gets made,” Trevor continued. “The long-term upside is that I’d be able to get into the Writers’ Guild and have the opportunity to make $100,000 or more for writing screenplays for big-studio movies. But the more immediate upside is that film would probably be produced in Minnesota and I would be a consultant, possibly even hanging out on the set in direct talk with the production staff.”
Lauren again found herself on the cusp of getting choked up, hugging Trevor again before taking a victory lap from the night before. “I always knew that this day was coming for you, baby. Even when you didn’t have faith in yourself, I had faith in you.”
Trevor savored both Lauren’s physical hug and her devotion. Throughout his childhood, he associated the aroma of cigarette smoke with maternal warmth. As a young adult, he now associated the smell of cigarettes with the unyielding faith and devotion of his lover….a faith and devotion that was constant whether he was deserving of it or not. Trevor squeezed her tighter to express his appreciation without saying an additional word.
As the hug broke apart, Lauren approached the stub of her cigarette to her lips for a final drag, punctuated by a familiar mischievous smirk.
“So now let’s get to the important stuff. Who plays you in the movie?” Lauren asked with a giggle, smoke spraying from her mouth and nose into Trevor’s face as she crushed out her cigarette in the nearest ash can.
Trevor laughed and shrugged. “I’m better with faces than names so you’ll have to help me out with that. I haven’t kept up with my Seventeen magazine.”
Lauren giggled, traces of residual smoke still trickling from her nose. “Is that even still a thing?” She proceeded to do a quick search on her phone and then added, “I’ll tell you my frontrunners and you see if you agree.”
Trevor nodded, curious who she’d come up with as a Hollywood doppelganger.
Lauren grinned and asked, “How about Tanner Buchanan?” as she showed him the pic on her phone. “That’s Robbie from ‘Cobra Kai’.”
Trevor gave a halfhearted shrug. “I could do worse,” he conceded favorably.
Lauren reclaimed her phone to do another quick photo search. “Or….” she opened, building the suspense until she had the image. “….maybe Asher Angel…..from the Shazam! movies.”
Trevor responded with a playful cringe. “Not sure about the superhero movie actors,” he teased.
“What other kind of movies are there?” Lauren teased, giggling about Trevor’s ambivalence to the genre.
Trevor knew what query was coming next as Lauren’s mischievous grin widened.
“And maybe even more important, who will be the actress who plays me?” Lauren asked.
Trevor scanned his brain for actresses just as his mom had done with Minnesota towns earlier, trying to come up with an appropriate name that would do justice to his beautiful blond girlfriend.
“How about Scarlet Johansson?” Trevor offered, hoping she’d be sufficiently flattering.
Lauren wrinkled her nose and gave an exaggerated shrug. “Trevor! What am I 40 years old?!?” she taunted with a breathless giggle.
Trevor shook his head. “I told you I’m not up on the Hollywood flavor of the month,” he defended himself. “Come to think of it, maybe I’m the one who should be concerned that you have these other young guys’ names on the tip of your tongue,” he accused with a smirk that matched Lauren’s mischievousness.
“Maybe so…maybe so!” Lauren responded playfully with the tonal flourish he absolutely adored as she opened her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s and plucked out another.
As Trevor held out her lighter to bring her cigarette to life, he verbalized the thought that came to mind first when he imagined the portrayal of the movie. “All I know is whichever young actress gets cast to play you had better get started right away learning how to smoke.”
Lauren giggled out her first eruption of smoke from the fresh cigarette on her lips. “That’s true! I think the movie needs me as a consultant on the set more than you. Somebody needs to train the poor girl,” she added with additional boisterous laughter that straddled the fence between feminine and husky.
Trevor joyfully ingested the fresh smoke lingering in their shared air and then grew introspective. “You can’t imagine how good it feels to have something to look forward to in the morning again….besides just the thought of you coming home when the day’s over,” he confessed. “I haven’t felt this excited about writing since my first year of college.”
Lauren’s face glowed as she took another drag from her cigarette. “I’m so happy for you, baby!” she congratulated, looking past him to his computer screen. “Sure you don’t want some privacy to keep writing while you’re on a roll? I mean, at least until we have to go to my parents’ place to meet Brian’s girlfriend later? I hope you didn’t forget about that.”
As the expulsion of smoke from Lauren’s lungs crashed intentionally into his face, Trevor gathered his physical and emotional momentum. “No, I remembered the dinner….but I’ll pass on the privacy.” He proceeded to grab her by the waist and pull her body closer to his own, his expression making a hard pivot to sinful decadence as he absorbed his mate’s physical and sensual embodiment at a moment of maximal libido. “I’ve actually got something else in mind for you.”
Lauren’s eyes lit up as she observed a version of Trevor she hadn’t seen in a while, raging with primal sexual desire that she couldn’t wait to have taken out on her. “Oh yeah?” she played along, putting her hands on his chest and feeling his pecks. “Whatever do you have in mind?”
“Something you’ve had coming for a long, long time,” Trevor promised lustfully as he began to unbutton her jeans.
“Mmmmm,” Lauren responded, dragging from her cigarette with a giddy schoolgirl pose. “I hope that means what I think it does,” she added with a wink as she grabbed her ponytail and shifted her hair over her left shoulder.
Trevor grunted for a second as Lauren giggled. “I think you’ve earned it today,” he conceded as he slipped Lauren’s jeans down her thighs.
“Yay!” Lauren exclaimed with a corresponding blast of cigarette smoke exhaled into Trevor’s face that stimulated him further.
The pair proceeded to rip each other’s clothes off until there were no clothes left to remove, their bodies in their most primal state complete with Trevor’s pulsating erection and Lauren’s soggy moisture. Trevor grabbed hold of her thighs and hoisted her body up to his hips with herculean force. As Lauren wrapped her legs around him, he proceeded to carry her into the kitchen and mount her on the countertop, perforating her genital orifice with the ferocity of a DOT cold planer smashing through the pavement during a street project.
Lauren screamed in passionate ecstasy, feeling the rawness of Trevor’s sexual aggression unlike anything she’d experienced from him since she was a teenager. As the jagged penetrations began, Lauren took a soothing drag from her cigarette that accentuated the experience. “Now baby!” she commanded through a talking exhale.
Trevor paused for a second before reaching back to her ponytail and giving it a forceful backward yank. Much as Lauren loved having her hair pulled during sex, Trevor was never comfortable with the possibility of causing her pain, and he was especially concerned with the damage he might do with the adrenaline he was fueling on this afternoon.
Lauren screamed with passion that made clear that pain came with pleasure for her. “Again baby!” she shouted as Trevor continued to penetrate her, determined to take full advantage of the animal raging inside her boyfriend today since she had no idea how long it would be until he showed up again.
Trevor did as ordered, grabbing Lauren’s ponytail and yanking it to the left, eliciting another passionate scream and ensuing blissful smile before he brought his hands back to her breasts which remained his comfort zone. Lauren’s pleasure reinforced Trevor’s aggression as he pressed his body into hers with dominance. He had always enjoyed being the submissive partner and he knew Lauren was just fine taking the lead, but today called for a reversal of last night’s passivity. And at this moment, both Trevor and Lauren hoped Trevor’s newfound confidence would have the staying power to enable more moments as electrifying as this one.
————————-
“Grandma was like a superhero!” Anthony gushed to his father. “She had to stab me but it made me feel better.”
Wade listened to his son describe his harrowing anaphylactic episode from this afternoon as he sat in the living room recliner, having just returned home from work. “It sounds like a pretty scary moment for you,” he responded. “Sounds like you were lucky grandma knew what she was doing.”
“Yeah but I told grandma next time she should give me a pill….not a shot,” Anthony continued, putting his hand on his thigh to indicate it was still sore from the EpiPen injection.
Wade laughed aloud. “I don’t think it works that way, buddy. Grandma McPherson did what she needed to do keep you from choking.” Pausing as Anthony nodded in grudging agreement, Wade pressed. “So how do you feel now other than the sore leg?”
“Great!” Anthony exclaimed, jumping with youthful enthusiasm. “I can’t wait to get to the farm!”
Wade raised his voice to discuss the matter with his wife, who was in the bathroom preparing herself for the evening, the bathroom door slightly open so she could hear and contribute to the conversation. “Is he right, Courtney? Did Becky say he’s doing well enough that we can leave town with him?”
Courtney’s voice bellowed from inside the bathroom. “Yeah. She had a medic friend of hers came over in case there was any follow-up issue….so Anthony would have all the resources he’d need. But 20 minutes after the EpiPen injection, Anthony was in the kitchen drinking apple cider. My mom said the window for additional symptoms should be closed by now.”
“Did your mom say–” Wade began to shout back before realizing it was pointless to have this conversation a full room apart. He then climbed out of his chair and tapped Anthony on the arm. “C’mon Anthony. Let’s go to the bathroom to talk to your mom.”
“Not yet!!” Courtney exclaimed with urgency before backing off to a more appropriate lighthearted tone. “I want it to be a surprise for you guys so no peeking until I’m ready, okay?”
Wade gave Anthony a confused but intrigued glance and then lightheartedly shrugged his shoulders before resuming his ongoing conversation with Courtney outside the bathroom door. “Did your mom say what we should do next to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again?” Wade asked. “Or at least to be prepared for it if it does?”
“Well, mom figures he probably has an allergy to bee stings after the reaction he got from just two stings,” Courtney responded. “She gave me a couple EpiPens to carry around with me as a short-term solution and I already called Anthony’s preschool and the daycare where my dad works to make sure they have it on hand.”
“Anything we can do besides just carrying around EpiPens?” Wade asked.
“Yeah…” Courtney continued. “Mom advised we see an allergist at the first opportunity and the doctor can decide if he wants to pursue a venom immunotherapy treatment regimen.”
“What might that include?” Wade asked.
“Well…” Courtney responded, not wanting to reveal too much information that her needle-phobic five-year-old son might pick up on. “The worst-case scenario would be an injection schedule that would last a couple of months that would desensitize him to the venom of the bee stings. Again though, that’ll be up to the allergist.”
Wade stood quietly for a couple of moments, processing the information. “I think your mom has earned herself your trust after today, Courtney,” he pressed, unable to resist chiding his wife for doubting Becky’s fitness lately.
Courtney paused before responding, not thrilled at having to admit she was wrong. “Yeah….you were right,” she conceded.
Anthony then tugged on his father’s arm. “Where are we going before the farm, daddy?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Wade replied with a shrug. “Your mom’s keeping it a secret but I think we’ll find out soon.”
“Right you are, sir!” Courtney interrupted from inside the bathroom. “Stand back and you shall soon behold a version of your wife you haven’t seen in a while and a version Anthony has never seen.”
Wade and Anthony made further confused eye contact as they stepped back from the bathroom doorway as Courtney requested. Seconds later, Courtney strutted into the hallway sporting a green bare-midriff tanktop and a pair of skin-tight black leather pants with high heels. She did a makeshift runway walk, tossing her long, blond hair over her shoulder and mugging a chic smile at her husband and son.
Wade’s face beamed as he looked upon the image of Courtney McPherson he fell in love with six years ago…..sexy, edgy, feminine. With the hallway light illuminating her long blond hair and the halo of cigarette smoke swirling around her beautiful features and shapely feminine form, Wade felt as though he had boarded a time machine and returned to those electric days when they started dating.
Anthony looked at his mother with confusion and intimidation, having only seen her in casual sweats and pajamas around the house, the occasional sweatshirt and jeans combination, or professional blouses and dress pants that she wore to work. “Why are you dressed like that, mommy?” Anthony asked, his tone matching his skeptical unease.
Courtney smirked as she took another drag from her half-smoked Marlboro Light Menthol 100, making eye contact with both her husband and her son. “Before we head to the farm where daddy had his first job, I’m gonna take you to the place where mommy had her first job.” She paused for dramatic effect before adding with a playful flourish, “I’m gonna take you boys to the mall!”
Courtney stepped up to Wade before giving further details, looking for validation on her outfit choice. “So what do you say?” she asked. “Can I still pull it off?”
Wade knew better than to disagree, but luckily for him, he didn’t have to tell any fibs. “It’s like you walked out of that bathroom six years ago…..hand to God!” he glowed.
“Oooo, good answer,” Courtney teased, affectionately touching her finger to the tip of his nose before putting her hands on her waist over the belt line of her leather pants. “Maybe a little bit of a muffin top here but not bad for a girl who delivered a baby five years ago,” she bragged, puffing out her chest to subtly advertise her breasts in the tanktop for her husband.
Wade smirked through his confusion before pressing. “But why the mall? Why tonight?” he asked.
“You must not have heard….” Courtney responded, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Willow Creek Mall is gonna be plowed over by spring and it’s closing to customers at the end of the month. That’s only a week away. It’s now or never.”
Wade listened but struggled to hide his skepticism. “Do you think it’s a good idea to go there now? That might be kind of depressing.”
Courtney shrugged. “I thought of that, but…..after all the time I spent there as a girl I just gotta say goodbye.”
Wade nodded with a dubious understanding, recognizing that this was something his wife had to do and wasn’t gonna try to talk her out of it. “In that case, I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, and we’ll take a trip to the mall.”
Anthony frowned. “But I want to go to the farm!” he complained.
“The mall is on the way, buddy,” Wade responded. “I don’t think your mom plans to be there long.”
“Exactly! I’ll probably be out of there in a half hour tops,” Courtney concurred as she crushed out her expired Marlboro Light Menthol 100 into the ash can.
A skeptical Anthony sat on the couch as Wade drifted off to the bedroom to change clothes. Courtney twisted her fingers around her long blond hair as she waited, a mix of excitement for visiting her old haunt and apprehension about what she might find there.
————————–
A half hour later, Courtney’s heart was full of anticipation as Wade made a right hand turn in front of the Willow Creek Mall sign that, in the past, had represented the liminal space that preceded either adolescent joy or the final moments before her work shift began. The nostalgia was poised to be overwhelming, but as Wade progressed into the mall’s nearly abandoned parking lot, Courtney got the first warning sign that coming here was probably not gonna be the kind of closure that would be fulfilling.
Wade slowed his truck to avoid potholes in the poorly maintained parking lot as Courtney looked around to the pasture of weeds growing through the unending cracks in the pavement. She had not been to Willow Creek Mall in the five years since she quit her old job at House of Leathers, but she was genuinely stunned how quickly this citadel of suburban retail excess had returned to the earth in her absence.
“Parking lot could use some repair,” Courtney said to Wade with an anxious chuckle as she took a drag from her cigarette.
Wade shrugged in qualified agreement while squinting into the setting sun that illuminated his short blond hair. “Yeah but if they’re closing in a week I don’t expect the repairs are gonna happen,” he responded softly, making sure he kept his wife’s expectations low about what the mall would have to offer besides the crumbling parking lot.
Wade parked the truck near the front of the mall’s mostly empty lot, giving a haunting eye contact to Courtney as if giving her one last chance to change her mind before going in. Her subdued but still infectious smile let him know she was still going through with it as she opened the passenger side door of the truck and helped Anthony out.
Walking toward the entrance and adjusting her leather pants around her waist, Courtney gave Wade a mischievous grin. “Your mom will probably wring my neck if I’ve already eaten when we get to the farm but I don’t think I’ll be able to pass up one more slice of pepperoni pizza from Sbarro or a Charley’s Philly Steak from the food court.”
As Wade offered a halfhearted chuckle, Anthony looked up at the dreary mall’s exterior with intimidation, not feeling a good energy about the place where his mother was taking them.
Courtney took a final drag from her cigarette and hustled her last few footsteps up to the smoker’s pole outside the mall’s entrance. She turned to her husband and son with a gleeful smile as she deposited the spent cigarette butt. “Just as I remember it,” she glowed, unaware that her smiles were about to come to a screeching halt.
The family stepped inside the mall’s main entrance and the vibe immediately turned dark. The festive sounds of commerce and of people engaging in commerce were nowhere to be found, replaced by dim lighting and a hushed emptiness broken only by the footsteps of a security guard wandering around his post on the horizon. Wade held Courtney’s hand as they progressed, feeling her grip tightening with alarm and despair to see first-hand what her favorite childhood destination had become.
The security guard’s footsteps became a metronome resembling a ticking time bomb as they approached. “Howdy folks,” the kindly guard offered the family as though they were the first people he’d seen in hours. As they greeted him back, Courtney marveled at the idea of a mall security guard greeting random shoppers on any of her hundreds of visits in the past. She appreciated that today the shopping center where the guard toiled had gone from the most populated workplace in the metro area to the loneliest.
Courtney wrinkled her nose at the musty smell of this abandoned place as they progressed past one empty storefront after another, recalling what used to occupy these storefronts not so long ago. The aroma of scented candles, designer jeans, and soft pretzels now more closely resembled the semi trailers full of shipping crates she used to unload when inventory arrived at the House of Leathers. As the sadness become more overwhelming with each footstep, she briefly thought it was triggering a heated physical response as she touched her hand to her forehead to wipe the sweat from her brow.
“It’s hot in here,” Courtney complained as she looked at Wade.
Wade nodded in agreement. “I bet they turned the air conditioning off because they don’t have enough tenants left to pay the utilities bill,” he explained before pointing up to the light fixtures on the ceiling. “It’s why the lighting is so dim in here too. Only like a quarter of the lights are actually working.”
Courtney sighed, at this point fully recognizing that coming here was a mistake but still continuing past an endless lineup of sealed storefront security gates locking her out of all of the favorite destinations of her youth. She felt the slightest glimmer of relief as they proceeded past a GNC nutrition store still open for business, an oasis of residual neon in this postapocalytic hellscape that felt like the faintest trace of a heartbeat on an otherwise lifeless EKG line.
Courtney let out a soft chuckle as she continued glaring at the GNC store. “Crazy that one of the only stores here that survived is one I never set foot in.”
Courtney then felt a small hand squeezing the thigh of her leather pants and looked down to Anthony. “I don’t like this place, mommy,” he confessed with fear. “It’s like a prison.”
Courtney was struck by her son’s observation, studying the empty storefronts punctuated by their sealed security gates and finding it hard to disagree with Anthony’s characterization.
“It was definitely a lot different here back when mommy had her first job,” Courtney explained while foraging in her purse for her pack of Marlboro Light Menthol 100s. She fished out a cigarette and dangled it from her lips, approaching her lighter to it.
“What are you doing?” Wade scolded. “You can’t smoke in here.”
With an aggrieved scowl, Courtney lit the cigarette and defended herself. “Look around Wade,” she argued through the dangling cigarette, her voice on the cusp of cracking with emotion. “Who’s even gonna know?”
Wade just nodded, letting Courtney have this cathartic moment without further dispute. As he watched her take a distressed drag, he realized this tour of decay was as stressful for her as it was depressing.
Courtney used her cigarette to point in the direction of the empty storefront that mattered most to her. “This is where I used to work, Anthony. It was called the House of Leathers,” she explained. “That’s why mommy is wearing these pants.”
Anthony looked blankly at the shuttered storefront, confused as to why it meant more to his mother than the hundreds of other empty stores and failing to connect with it as a place that once represented life and vigor for his mother.
Courtney averted her gaze to Wade and quickly identified annoyance, undoubtedly as he connected her old workplace with the sordid love affair she had with her boss before she and Wade met. She was determined to keep her family moving along lest Wade assume that her nostalgia for this place had anything to do with the long-ago sexual relationship with Kurt Collins.
As the three of them proceeded into the vacant food court, Courtney’s heart sunk a little deeper. “So much for my plan to eat in the food court,” she mused, surveying the absence of a single option.
“At least you won’t have to upset my mom,” Wade responded, trying to lighten the mood.
Just as Courtney thought her nostalgic tour of the Willow Creek Mall had sunk to its nadir, the opening riff of a familiar pop song pulsated through the speakers of the piped-in music inside the mall. Courtney froze as the electro-disco arrangement yielded to lyrics, confirming what she already knew. It was Lady Gaga’s “Edge of Glory”, a song that had served as an accidental soundtrack to her glory years as a mall rat, piped in from these very speakers all of those years when she took this place for granted. And hearing it again right now was absolutely heartbreaking.
As Courtney processed the dark irony of the song’s optimistic lyrics in contrast with the fallen empire she was standing upon, months away from being reduced to rubble, the emotion she had been trying to suppress since she walked in the mall entrance couldn’t be contained any longer. The tears erupted from the depths of Courtney’s soul, the culmination of all of her crises of conscience released in a cleansing cascade. She cried for the child at her school she may or may not have rescued from sexual abuse. She cried for her five-year-old son who just endured a medical emergency hours earlier. She cried for the cognitive calamity slowly stealing her mother’s mind, knowing that it was her own genetic inheritance and a wedge pitting a daughter’s sympathy and a psychologist’s deductive reasoning up against each other.
As her husband’s loving arm embraced her, gripping her shoulder and squeezing her toward him lovingly, Courtney also cried about the secrets she continued to keep from him. Much as Wade deserved to know about her sordid sexual history and attempted seduction of her father, and much as she wanted to be able to tell him, she had never felt more guarded about the emotional wreckage of her adolescence than she did right now as she stood amidst the physical wreckage of her adolescence.
“What’s wrong, mommy?” Anthony cried upon seeing his mother’s breakdown, tears forming in his own eyes upon watching her struggle.
Courtney did her best to pull herself together, raising her hand to her face and wiping her tears with one hand and taking a drag from her cigarette with the other.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Courtney apologized, touching her finger to Anthony’s cheek to wipe away his own tear. “Your mommy is just haunted by some ghosts right now.”
“Ghosts?!?” Anthony exclaimed, his sadness quickly pivoting to fear.
Courtney and Wade both chuckled amidst the grief at their son’s misinterpretation of her adult metaphor.
“Sort of,” Courtney clarified. “But I promise these ghosts will leave you alone. They’re just spooking mommy, and only for tonight.”
“I don’t understand,” Anthony responded with ongoing confusion.
Courtney knelt down close enough that Anthony could smell the cigarette aroma on her breath. “Mommy made a mistake tonight,” she explained. “She wanted to revisit a part of her past that should never have been revisited. Sometimes the things that happened yesterday should stay part of yesterday. Because if we keep worrying about yesterday, we might not fully appreciate what’s coming up tomorrow,” she closed, affectionately stroking his face.
Courtney then stood back up and made sustained eye contact with Wade, relaying to him without words that the sentiment she verbalized to her five-year-old son was intended for his ears. Wade finally broke the extended visual stalemate with an understanding nod. The mismatch between his own open-book past and Courtney’s concealed past stood poised to continue, and for better or worse, both of them had to accept that. Courtney put her arm around Wade’s waist and began to guide him back in the direction they had come from.
“I think it’s time to get down on the farm with my guys,” Courtney instructed, picking up her pace in a hurry to leave the smoldering ruins of her personal Pompeii.
“Finally!” Anthony exclaimed, a sentiment that elicited a corroborating wink from his father.
As Courtney spotted a trash can on the periphery of the former food court, she briefly broke apart from her embrace with Wade and hustled on over to it. She took a final drag from her cigarette and then crushed it out on the trash can lid, depositing the butt as her fitting final gesture inside the Willow Creek Mall. She then rejoined her husband and son, putting her arm back around Wade and holding Anthony’s hand. After experiencing the harsh reality of death by way of a vacant mall, it was only fitting to experience the rebirth of that life cycle on a dairy farm on the next step of her journey.
——————
Trevor and Lauren sat together at the dining room table of the home Lauren grew up in, indulging in the final bites of her mother’s chicken parmesan. To their left sat Lauren’s parents Craig and Michelle and to their right sat her younger brother Brian and his new girlfriend Nora, who everybody was meeting for the first time. Everybody listened as the well-spoken Nora described the origin story of her relationship with Brian, a little too poised and fearless than an 18-year-old girl should ever be meeting her boyfriend’s family for the first time.
“And even though our schools were supposed to be rivals, when I looked over to this handsome young fellow with the clarinet to his lips playing the parade in our town festival in June, I thought it might be nice to get to know him a little better,” Nora crowed. “And based on the way he was looking at me, I figured he just might feel the same. Turns out I was right. All of our school’s buses were parked in the same lot and I was out there waiting to board my bus, here’s this same handsome guy with the clarinet wandering my way to say hi. Once I found out he was going to school at St. Olaf this fall and would be part of their marching band, I knew it was meant to be.”
“Awww,” Lauren responded sweetly, studying Nora closely and deducing based on her long blond hair and Nordic features that she could easily have been a long-lost cousin.
“Can you even imagine a nerdier ‘how did you meet your girlfriend’ story than that?” Brian teased, getting a playful whack on the arm from Nora.
Craig laughed. “Oh c’mon now, Brian. If a girl like Nora qualifies as a ‘nerd’, then the term has lost all meaning.”
Brian smirked, darting his eyes back and forth between his mother and sister. “One thing we should be able to agree on is that all the sacrifices you guys made driving me back and forth to marching band practice all those years paid off,” he added, sweetly squeezing Nora’s hand.
Michelle nodded with a vaguely beleaguered smile at her son’s characterization. “So what instrument do you play, Nora?” she asked.
“Trumpet,” Nora replied.
“Nice,” Craig replied.
“She’s the one who carries the trumpet in this relationship,” Brian joked.
The table laughed at Brian’s innuendo and Lauren smiled broadly at her brother, proud of the young man he’d become, a young man who matured nicely and earned his scholarship at an esteemed establishment of higher education that she chose not to pursue. While she had long ago forgiven him for the years of torture she endured growing up, her mischievous side still felt like she needed to even the score a bit. And as much as she was dying for a cigarette right now, she figured that mischievous side was bound to rear itself before the evening was through.
“So…..Nora Thorheim,” Craig mused with a mischievous grin of his own. “It doesn’t get any more Norwegian than that.”
“Ooooh!” Lauren grunted playfully with a follow-up giggle. “Don’t start, dad!”
Trevor gave her an amused and familiar smile, recalling that her dad brought up ethnic backgrounds when he met the Nelson family for the first time as well, standing out to Lauren as Trevor had been unusually quiet and seemed a bit distracted so far tonight.
“Sorry, Nora,” Lauren teasingly apologized. “Once my dad gets started on Norwegian stuff, he’ll talk about it all night. When he found out Trevor’s dad’s side was Irish, I didn’t know if he’d let him in the door again,” she added with a giggle.
Trevor nodded in agreement, teasingly following his girlfriend’s example. “I’m lucky my mom’s side is Norwegian or I don’t think he’d let me sit here right now!”
Nora laughed and nodded along as if she could relate. “No worries. My dad is the same way. It’s all Norwegian pride all the time,” she shared, working the room with her pleasant charisma. “Just to give you an idea of how deep it runs in my family, I have two brothers. Their names are Leif and Bjorn.”
Craig laughed, looking his daughter’s way and then pouncing. “You see? There’s no shortage of Norwegians who are way more hard-core than me.”
“Yes, dad,” Lauren responded with a teasing sigh, her warm relationship with her father on display for the table. “Just promise me you’re not gonna force her to eat lutefisk at Christmas.”
Craig laughed. “I don’t make those kinds of promises, Lauren. You should know that by now.”
Brian chimed in, looking his mother’s direction. “Mom….tell Nora your maiden name,” he requested.
Michelle smirked before responding. “Gjersvik.”
“Oh wow!” Nora reacted, struck by the heavy ethnic bond. “Don’t tell me….” she requested, preparing to spell it out. “G-J-E-R-S-V-I-K?”
“Very good!” Craig congratulated, even giving a brief round of applause. “This girl knows her Norwegian!”
Lauren giggled. “Now tell her grandpa’s name,” she requested of her mother.
Michelle fought through another distressed smile. “Soren,” she answered.
“Perfect!” Nora responded through laughter. “You guys totally look the part. No shortage of blond hair and blue eyes at this table,” she mused, her eyes scanning to Craig, Michelle, and Lauren.
“Except for that guy!” Craig teased, pointing to Brian. “And that one,” he added, pointing at Trevor.
Brian shrugged as Nora playfully ran her fingers through his light brown hair with Lauren doing the same to Trevor’s light brown hair, jocularity ensuing among both couples.
“There’s a black sheep in every family,” Nora teased leaning forward to give Brian a kiss on the cheek.
Michelle swooned appreciatively as she took in the image of her son Brian in the presence of this remarkable new girlfriend who was passing the test with flying colors tonight. She then looked in the direction of Lauren and Trevor, her smile quickly becoming more subdued. The moment was punctuated as she broke into a sharp smoker’s cough that drew looks from others at the table.
“I made some brownies for dessert,” Michelle announced as she rose to her feet, helping to divert attention away from herself. “They should still be warm.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Nora replied with a smile.
Lauren observed from across the table as there was a fidget in Nora’s hand. She might have ordinarily dismissed it as nerves from meeting her boyfriend’s parents….if she wasn’t feeling the same fidget from nicotine withdrawal right now. She looked to Trevor wondering if he was noticing the same thing, but Trevor was again lost in his own world. She grimaced but brushed it off and assumed his mind was still lost in the screenplay he had just started writing.
As Michelle walked into the dining room with brownie pan in hand, she served one to Nora and dug deeper into Nora’s story. “So is the Norwegian connection what drew you to St. Olaf?” she asked in reference to the college’s famously Nordic background.
“Well, that didn’t hurt, but honestly it was their music program that was the biggest draw,” Nora clarified.
“Yeah, that’s why I picked St. Olaf too,” Brian responded as his mother put a warm brownie on his plate. “I would guess Nora and I had the same recruiter visit the band room in our schools.”
As Michelle approached Trevor with a warm brownie of his own, he tuned out of the ongoing background conversation and observed his girlfriend’s mother.
“There you go, Trevor,” Michelle offered with a warm smile.
Trevor thanked her, struck by how good Michelle still looked for her mid-40s, especially for being a smoker and especially compared to his own mother who had aged so much since the onset of her frontotemporal dementia. As Trevor watched Lauren’s gracious response to getting her own brownie from her mother, he couldn’t get over how similar they looked. His smile widened as he took his first bite from the brownie, quietly congratulating himself on Lauren’s family’s genetics. The smile vanished as he contemplated the contrast to the cruel genetics in his own family.
“These are great, Mrs. Nelson!” Nora complimented Michelle on the brownies.
“I told you they’d live up to the hype,” Brian told her. “Nobody makes brownies like my mom.”
Lauren continued to study Nora, seeing more signs of herself than just the blond hair. As Nora began tapping her fingers against the base of her chair, Lauren became increasingly convinced they shared a certain nasty habit that, against all odds, was shared by at least two of Brian’s previous girlfriends. Nora didn’t seem the type to smoke, but then again, neither did Lauren.
Lauren took a gander a Trevor, knowing that the origin for his smoking fetish was his mother and sisters, but pivoting her gaze to Brian, she knew her brother’s apparent preference for girls who smoke had nothing to do with either herself or her mother. The source for Brian’s preference was none other than his first love, and Lauren’s friend, Haylee McPherson. Every girl Brian had dated in the years since his dalliance with Haylee was an attempt to re-create that larger-than-life memory, and she really hoped Nora would be the girl who would.
Training her eyes mischievously upon Brian, it was time for Lauren to put her theory to the test. She elbowed Trevor to tip him off that hell was about to be raised, but she rolled her eyes when he was again lost in his own mysterious thoughts. She took her final bite of brownie and then proceeded to open her purse and extract her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s, fishing one out and placing it between her lips while waiting for the first reaction.
“Lauren!” shouted her mother, not at all to Lauren’s surprise. “Don’t even think about lighting up in here in front of Nora!”
“Oops!” Lauren squeaked theatrically, training her eyes on both Brian and Nora. “It’s so second nature for me to light one up after dessert that I wasn’t even thinking about our guests. Sorry Nora.”
Brian rolled his eyes and then stared at Lauren, knowing she was wise to him and silently begging her not to make a scene.
“Oh no worries,” Nora replied with a nervous giggle, further accelerating Lauren’s suspicion. “You can go ahead and smoke if you’d like. It’s fine by me.”
“Really?” Lauren replied, laying it on thick. “That’s pretty generous of you, Nora. Do you smoke?”
Nora gulped as Michelle once again upbraided her daughter. “Have some respect Lauren!” she growled. “And give the girl some privacy!”
Lauren couldn’t help but notice that Trevor was suddenly very attentive, waiting with bated breath for Nora’s response.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Nelson,” Nora clarified, still apprehensive about verbalizing her secret. “And yeah, I actually do smoke. I think I might be the only smoker on campus at this point.”
Lauren smirked past her at a mortified Brian. “Life is so funny,” she preened, doing her best to restrain a wink. “Brian busted my chops about my smoking the whole time I was growing up and now here he is dating the only smoker at St. Olaf.” She paused for an uncomfortable giggle as she side-eyed Trevor, feeling the hostility from the body language of both her mother and brother. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a smoker, Nora.”
“I know,” Nora grumbled with shame. “It’s a stress relief thing for me….even though I think it causes more stress than it relieves when I have to run out behind my dorm building every time I want to smoke one. Luckily, Brian’s okay with it.”
“Luckily,” Lauren kept her foot on the gas, mercilessly taunting her poor brother to settle some scores.
“Leave her alone, Lauren,” Craig scolded lightheartedly on behalf of his vastly more dyspeptic wife seated next to him.
“No, no…it’s fine,” Nora confirmed, not aware of the depth of the backstory Lauren was leveraging, ignoring Brian’s hand motion intended to shut the conversation down. “Brian told me his family smoked but it was still a nice feeling to walk in here tonight and know I probably wouldn’t be judged for my smoking.”
“Oh my gosh…the same thing happened to me when I met Trevor’s family for the first time!” Lauren pressed, looking at Trevor and asking “Remember baby?”
“I certainly do,” Trevor recalled with an ebullient grin, enjoying Lauren’s bit of theater as much as Brian and Michelle were hating it.
“It really does feel liberating to know you can smoke without judgment from family and friends,” Lauren shared, squeezing Trevor’s leg under the table knowing he was loving the show. She then picked up her cigarette from the pack on the table once again. “Since we’re all smokers here, hope you don’t mind if I have one.” She feigned a southern belle accent as she followed up. “I don’t know about y’all but I am DYING for a smoke right now.”
Lauren placed the cigarette between her lips and leaned toward Trevor, beckoning him for a light.
“Lauren! Stop!” Michelle raised her voice with surprising intensity, throwing off the lighthearted vibe.
Fortunately for Lauren’s performance, Craig came to her rescue, plucking his own pack of Marlboro Lights 100s from his shirt pocket. “Aww, c’mon Michelle,” he gently chided. “Think of it as a compliment to your cooking that everybody wants a cigarette afterward.”
Lauren giggled at her father’s characterization. Awkward laughter filled the room as Craig lit a cigarette and Michelle shot daggers at him for not presenting a united front in front of their guest.
Lauren then leaned toward Trevor, cigarette dangling from her lips and making loving eye contact. She drew hard off the light-up, both for the performance and because her nicotine-deprived lungs badly needed this jolt after a smoke-free hour at the dining room table. A cumulus cloud of smoke morphed into a funnel and crashed into Trevor’s airspace, electrifying him and bringing the first genuine smile to his face that evening.
“Thanks, baby,” Lauren gestured with pluck and then directed her gaze back to Brian and Nora, hoping she’d made the sale.
Nora shrugged with inevitability, reaching for her purse. “I guess I might as well have one too,” she squeaked, still a little paranoid about Michelle’s reaction but ultimately flowing with the momentum of the room.
Lauren and Trevor both watched with suspense as Nora pulled the pack from her purse, neither particularly surprised when a yellow pack of American Spirits came out. It was a far cry from the glamour of Haylee’s Camel Pink No. 9s but Brian probably considered himself lucky to have a girl who smoked at all with the culture being what it was. Lauren began to squeeze Trevor’s thigh as if signaling she was about to stir up more trouble. She waited until just the right moment when Nora put her unlit cigarette between her lips and then she pounced.
“What are you waiting for, Brian?” Lauren uttered with sinful delight. “Light your girlfriend’s cigarette.”
Lauren continued to squeeze Trevor’s leg under the table, making sure he wasn’t missing her playful homage to her first family dinner at his place, where Trevor’s mother Becky gave her son the same iconic instruction. Trevor glowed with nostalgia watching it unfold, doing his best to keep a straight face.
Meanwhile, Nora awkwardly handed Brian her lighter to replicate the light-up that she’d just witnessed Trevor do for Lauren and felt peer-pressured to do again now. Brian seethed, his eyes burning upon his sister with a “you’re-gonna-pay-for-this” fireball of a glare that ultimately surrendered to the flick of a lighter that brought Nora’s American Spirit to life.
Lauren and Trevor both watched from afar as Nora took her first drag, exhaling with satisfaction and confirming to the room that she was definitely an experienced smoker. She bashfully slunk her shoulders low as if not loving being the center of attention.
“Yay!” Lauren cheered, taking another drag from her cigarette and giving an evil eyebrow twirl to her brother. “You’re one of us now,” she added with a giggle.
Craig snickered and even Michelle couldn’t resist cracking a smile.
“You know you’re going to hell, right?” Michelle barbed her daughter, only half joking.
“Meh….maybe I’ll get used to the heat,” Lauren shrugged with a smirk, residual smoke pouring from her mouth and nose.
Craig then got in on the peer pressure, opening up his pack of Marlboro Lights 100s and holding it out to his wife. “You know you want one too, Michelle! Follow the cool kids’ example.”
Michelle had a residual smirk on her face but the guilt drowned it out as she grabbed hold of a cigarette from the pack and put it in her mouth. She lit it up but quickly faded from the background giggles, enjoying the drag but hating herself for doing so.
Trevor turned to Lauren with an adoration bordering on ecstasy as it often did when she showed her naughty side. When she thought nobody was looking, she gave him a side-eye wink and exhaled smoke toward him from the corner of her mouth. Post-dinner conversation ensued among the guests, with four smokers in the mix that somehow included Brian’s socially refined coed girlfriend. Life was never boring with Lauren around, and Trevor decided his news about writing a movie script could wait for another day. He looked at Lauren again, breathing in the swirl of her smoke still hovering in his airspace and then getting nervous again. In a couple of hours, he expected his screenplay wouldn’t even be the biggest news of the day any longer.
——————
Haylee and Jarrod sat in front of the campfire pit, the rising flames contrasting with the background of dusk. Both were eating hot dogs they’d just roasted on the flames.
Haylee swallowed her bite of food and look up at Jarrod. “Any good?” she asked.
Jarrod gave her a thumbs-up as he finished chewing before verbally responding. “A little overcooked but still not bad.”
“Told you to take it off the flame when I took mine off,” Haylee gently scolded before taking her final bite.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jarrod conceded as he took another bite.
Haylee admired the post-sunset landscape of their campgrounds as she waited for Jarrod to finish eating, the darkness of the surrounding pine forest littered with the spotty glimmers of flames from other campfires on the grounds. She plucked another Camel Pink No. 9 from her pack, soon contributing an additional flame to the landscape as she brought the cigarette to life with the flick of her lighter.
Jarrod watched as she lit her cigarette, longing for the days when Haylee let him light her cigarettes but not having the courage to request it tonight. He chewed the last bite of his hot dog when Haylee made eye contact with him.
“You want another hot dog or are you ready for s’mores?” Haylee asked.
“Definitely ready for s’mores,” Jarrod responded with an eager smile.
Haylee turned back to her tent, pitched a few yards behind the campfire pit. Jarrod kept his eyes trained on her ass as she bent over to retrieve s’more supplies from the tent, bursts of cigarette smoke wafting out the front of the tent. He then watched Haylee slip on a pink hoodie over her upper body but leaving her legs bare below the black jean shorts.
Returning to the campfire with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars, Haylee confirmed Jarrod’s prior speculation. “You were right. It’s getting cold after dark,” drawing attention to the hoodie she just put on.
Jarrod nodded as Haylee sat down. “That breeze is really making it chilly.”
“Yeah but we’re lucky we have it because if we didn’t we’d be getting eaten alive by mosquitoes right now,” Haylee reminded, cigarette bouncing from her lips as she spoke and began tearing open the chocolate bars.
Jarrod nodded in agreement, mesmerized by the vision of his former babysitter educating him through a dangling cigarette just as she did when he was a younger boy. The campfire setting only further romanticized the image for him, the smoke produced from the burning wood in the pit being no match for the volume of smoke Haylee’s lungs were producing.
As Haylee used a paper towel to wipe off the tip of the roasting skewers that she and Jarrod just used on the hot dogs, she made eye contact with Jarrod, prepared to launch a conversation that she might regret as she speculated where it might end up.
“So…”, Haylee opened with a mischievous grin. “Seventh grade, huh? You got your own locker. You’re going from one classroom to the next all day instead of spending the day in homeroom. Showers after gym class. Middle-school dances. More advanced math. Sneaking cigarettes behind the school. How do you like it so far?”
Jarrod laughed. “Except for the last part…it’s okay I guess.”
Haylee smirked, her cigarette bouncing in her mouth again as she spoke. “Caught up in my own seventh-grade experience just a little too much there,” she joked.
“Yeah, I guess it makes me feel a little more grown-up,” Jarrod responded, his voice cracking as he spoke in unfortunate contrast to his verbal proclamation of maturity.
Haylee handed Jarrod a stack of marshmallows, graham crackers, and a couple chocolate bars as she continued her soft interrogation.
“I bet the girls are starting to chase after you too,” Haylee added with a smirk. “Maybe some of the boys too. No judgments here,” she added half-jokingly to cover her bases.
“Not really,” Jarrod blushed and then clarified. “Not really with the girls. Not at all with the guys!”
“It won’t be long until they do,” Haylee assured him. “And even if it seems like they’re teasing you or being bitches, I know girls enough to tell you that they are totally chasing after you, especially at that age.”
Jarrod chuckled, unsure about Haylee’s signals but reassuring himself there was no way she was flirting. “How about you? College boys chasing after you?”
Haylee shrugged with indifference as she tended to roasting her marshmallow. “A little here and there. I don’t really let ’em get too close. It’s just not an environment where I’m that comfortable around the guys….or the girls either for that matter.”
Jarrod’s heart pounded with false hope as he held the marshmallow at the end of his skewer near the flame. “I would think you’d have guys standing in line to go out with you?” he complimented.
“Ha!” Haylee replied with a burst of smoke. “Not exactly. I haven’t had a boyfriend in years. Only dated one guy the whole time I’ve been at the U of M and he was a tool.”
“That’s crazy,” Jarrod fired back. “You should really be out there living it up. Isn’t that what college is all about?”
Haylee sighed as she took the final puff from her cigarette, tossing the butt into the fire. A mixture of relief and despair filled her body as she finally had an opening to share her situation with somebody. She removed her marshmallow from the flame and stacked it between graham crackers and chocolate. Before taking her first bite, she made her confession.
“You’re gonna be the first person I’ve told this to,” Haylee opened to her unlikely audience of one. “But as of yesterday, I’m no longer a college student.”
Jarrod took his first bite of his s’more, a combination of astonishment and disappointment coursing through him as the conversation went a different direction than he expected. “You quit college?!?” he asked incredulously.
“Worse,” Haylee answered, a spooky vulnerability in her eyes. “I got kicked out.”
“What the hell did you do??!?!” Jarrod asked, stunned by her revelation.
Haylee shrugged. “I mean, it was stupid. For nothing serious at all,” she rationalized, unwilling to elaborate. “But I’m still out….and I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do next.”
“Shit!” Jarrod responded, genuinely shaken by the news. “Can’t you just go to another college?”
Haylee chewed on her s’more a bit while pondering her response. “That’s an option….but I don’t think it’s one I’m gonna take.”
“Why not?” Jarrod asked, struggling to understand.
“Because I just don’t think it’s me,” Haylee responded honestly. “I’ve spent two full years at college and I never felt like it was right for me. Figuring out what is right for me…..that’s gonna be the hard part.”
“What were you planning to do after college?” Jarrod inquired, a circle of marshmallow and chocolate on his lips.
Haylee chuckled, the marshmallow and chocolate outlining her own face as she began to speak. “I didn’t really have a solid plan,” she confessed. “I was a business major but can you see me working in an office?”
Jarrod laughed, trying to imagine the feral priestess of teenage rebellion sitting at a cubicle with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.
“I’d love to work from home….and of course more people are doing that now,” Haylee continued. “I told off the disciplinary committee at my college and said I could learn a skill online without a degree….but I got a feeling that’s easier said than done.” She paused to take her final bite of the s’more, further brainstorming and then verbalizing it to her camping companion. “I was thinking I could learn to code…but some people are saying the technology is changing on that and there won’t be as many jobs….”
Haylee extracted another Camel Pink No. 9 and stuck it between her lips, lighting it before continuing. “Oh, and could you do me favor?” she asked, freshly lit cigarette bobbing from her lips in a way that briefly put Jarrod back in lovestruck voyeur mode after several moments of succumbing to Haylee’s soul-bearing.
“What?” Jarrod asked, preparing another marshmallow to roast.
“Give me a few days to lay this news on my family….” Haylee requested. “…and then please ask your mom about office positions at 3M. Maybe if she can work from home, I can too. I probably can’t just walk right into a job your mom spent years working her way up to but, you know, it’s worth a shot.”
Jarrod nodded, saddened by his babysitter’s unexpected challenges. “I can do that.”
Haylee smiled back at him, her eyes glazing over with sadness.
“So you haven’t told your parents yet that you got kicked out of school?” Jarrod asked.
Haylee grunted and shook her head no, puckering her lips around the cigarette for a distressed drag. “I’m really scared, Jarrod,” she confessed. “You probably never imagined your mean old babysitter being scared…..but I’m scared.”
Haylee had read Jarrod’s mind with that last sentence, having only ever been on the receiving end of fear in Haylee’s presence in the past.
“What scares you the most?” Jarrod asked, curious but still intimidated by the heavy direction of the conversation.
“Breaking my parents’ hearts by failing them,” Haylee responded right away, starting to choke up a little. “They’ve done a lot to help me and they probably don’t think I appreciate it enough. I do, but I have a hard time showing it.” Her mind trailed off only a moment, emotion rising. “You might not know about the situation with my mom, but she’s got this horrible disease….”
Haylee’s armor cracked mid-sentence, the tears flowing. Her lips could no longer support the cigarette dangling from them so she reached up to remove it, her mouth curling up in long-suppressed grief in the cigarette’s absence. She fought through the emotional overflow and forced herself to finish her thought.
“It’s a form of dementia and it’s passed along family lines,” Haylee explained. “My grandma had it. My great-grandma had it. My great-aunts had it.”
“And you think you’ll get it too?” Jarrod asked.
Haylee nodded, putting the cigarette back in her mouth. “But I need to be strong for my mom. I can’t make this about me. When I tell them I got expelled from college, it’ll be about me whether I like it or not. My mom will have more stress….and it’ll be my fault.” Hard as she tried to hold them back, the tears resumed.
Jarrod hadn’t seen an emotional outpouring from Haylee since the night her romantic dalliance with one-time boyfriend Grant went awry. He was only five years old then but he followed his instinct tonight and consoled her the same way he did back then, stepping over to her and giving her a hug. Haylee squeezed him tight, her embrace speaking volumes about how desperately she needed to share this burden with somebody. Out of instinct, Jarrod savored the physical contact and the overwhelming aroma of fresh cigarette smoke, but it certainly wasn’t as satisfying as it was in his daydreams.
“Thank you so much for listening,” Haylee expressed amidst their embrace. “I’m sorry to lay all of this on you when you’re trying to have fun camping.”
When Haylee finally let go, Jarrod took his seat by the campfire again and he found himself feeling something he never imagined he’d feel for the babysitter he had for so long valorized. He pitied her.
“It’s okay. I’m a good listener,” Jarrod responded, even though looking at the cigarette once again punctuating her every expression, he quietly figured out Haylee’s predicament. The instrument of rebellion she’d used to such crude effect as a teenager had become an instrument of isolation as a young adult. While he may have found her bad girl appeal intoxicating, it was pretty clear the rest of the world didn’t share his view. The cigarette had become a totem of defiance, a wall between her deteriorating existing relationships as well the new relationships she should be forming but hasn’t been. In the extended silence following their hug, he didn’t think it would help to break these impressions down and didn’t know how to articulate them anyway, so he devised an alternative strategy.
“You know I stole one of your cigarettes once,” Jarrod confessed, changing the subject but with a tone suggesting he was going somewhere with it. “And I smoked it in the bathroom.”
Haylee’s eyes popped open in disbelief at the revelation, the half-smoked cigarette going erect between her lips. “No way. You were like six.”
Jarrod nodded with a mischievous grin. “That’s how much I wanted to be like my cool babysitter.”
Haylee laughed, teasingly adding “I don’t know whether to be flattered or to tell your mother when we get back tomorrow.”
Jarrod shook his head. “I only lasted a few puffs though. I hated it,” he shared. “It’s like I wanted to have this thing in common with you but I just….couldn’t.”
Haylee turned her head with a hint of confusion. “Why do you think you wanted to be like me so much?”
“Like I said….you were cool!” Jarrod replied confidently. “And I’m sure other people think you’re cool just like me. I don’t think you’d lose that if you opened up to more people….like you did with me tonight.”
Haylee puckered her lips around her cigarette as it shrunk towards its stub. “What makes you think I don’t?” she asked through a talking dangle even though she kind of knew the answer.
“Well didn’t you say you didn’t really make many friends at college? And that your parents don’t know how much you appreciate them?” Jarrod inquired, shrugging as his questions were answered with silence and then driving his point home. “I just feel like people want to get to know you. I know I always wanted to. I finally got the chance to tonight. Maybe if you did the same thing with others in your life….you wouldn’t have to be so scared.”
Haylee nodded as if he was making some sense, struck that the 12-year-old boy she used to babysit was giving the best life advice she’d gotten in quite some time. She wrapped her lips around the dangling cigarette for another drag and then plucked the cigarette from her mouth and tossed it into the fire.
“Well shit, kid,” Haylee mused, her exhaled smoke inadvertently invading his airspace and contaminating the s’more he was still munching on. “You’re better at giving advice than my sister and she went to college for six years for it!”
Jarrod beamed, heartened by the unlikely words of validation from the girl he idolized who turned out to be more insecure than he ever could have known. “Well, hang on then because I got some school advice for you too,” he added with a smirk.
Haylee laughed. “Let’s have it!”
“Well I guess this works if you go to another school or if you do something else next,” Jarrod opened. “Try to treat whatever comes next as new and exciting like middle school is for me. Changing classrooms after every bell….going to your first dance…..knowing that somebody that teases you actually has the hots for you. If you do, it might still be scary in a way, but a good kind of scary.”
Haylee beamed with a smile she never could have imagined would emerge five miserable minutes ago. “How did I ever not notice what a little genius you were when I was yelling at you to let your brother have his turn playing Super Mario Galaxy?!” Haylee teased.
“That’s on you! I’ve always been a genius!” Jarrod boasted with a laugh.
Haylee shook her head playfully, fluttering her eyebrows. “We’ll see about that in a minute!”
“What do you mean?” Jarrod asked, struck by another vibe shift.
“I brought a little surprise for you if you’re interested,” Haylee teased. “It’s in the tent.”
“Okay,” Jarrod responded nervously, watching as Haylee rose to her feet, again letting his crush on her lead to wishcasting about her motives. He watched Haylee dig around in her tent for a moment and then return with a box in her hand and a small collapsible table.
Jarrod squinted as he tried to read the print on the box in the dark, his face lighting up when he finally made it out. “Monopoly?!?!” he asked to verify.
“Yeah, I remember how much you loved it when I babysat you so I dug it out before I left home,” Haylee replied. “You still play?”
“Yeah, quite a bit with my family,” Jarrod answered.
“Nice,” Haylee responded with a competitive sneer. “That’ll make it that much more satisfying to kick your ass just like I did when you were six.”
“Pffft! In your dreams!” Jarrod trash-talked back as he took hold of the box, opening it and preparing to set up the game.
Haylee opened up the collapsible table and sat it between them, placing another cigarette between her lips and lighting it before helping Jarrod arrange the board, money, and other accessories related to the Monopoly game. Jarrod looked up to Haylee, admiring her beauty and ingesting the cigarette smoke pouring from her face. However complicated his feelings about his childhood crush had become over the course of tonight’s interaction, his instinctive ecstasy about her presence came roaring back in an instant with a trigger as basic as a Monopoly game. At least for the duration of this game, Jarrod felt he was being granted permission to be the six-year-old boy who worshiped his fifteen-year-old babysitter, and win or lose, he intended to savor every moment of it.
—————–
Trevor and Lauren entered their home after spending the better part of the evening at Lauren’s parents place meeting Brian’s girlfriend Nora. The glow of Lauren’s cigarette provided the only source of light until Trevor flipped the switch, all while Lauren continued to buzz about the evening.
“Weren’t you impressed with Nora?” Lauren asked through a talking exhale as she slipped off her leather jacket. “My brother did really well!”
Trevor nodded affirmatively, on the cusp of saying he thought Brian was effectively dating his mother but deciding that it hit a little close to home. “Just like with us, it sounded like it was serendipity that they found each other,” Trevor eventually settled upon.
“I could tell my parents liked her…” Lauren replied, adding with an evil giggle “…probably better than they like me right now.”
Trevor smirked in agreement, admiring Lauren’s spirit as they settled in and migrated to the living room.
“Can you believe Nora smokes?” Lauren asked with genuine astonishment, taking a final drag from her cigarette with a prideful flourish and crushing it out in the ash can on the end table. “There aren’t many of us around these days yet Brian keeps finding them to date. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“Yeah, it’s not a coincidence,” Trevor responded with a smug smirk of his own, understanding Brian’s wiring even better than Lauren and knowing that his own sister Haylee was the undeniable source of Brian’s long-term preference.
Lauren gave Trevor her famously playful side-eye, removing another cigarette from her pack, placing it in her mouth and beckoning Trevor for a light. She noticed a quiver in Trevor’s hand as he ignited the cigarette, the latest indication of a tension and awkwardness to his vibe tonight.
“So you sure were quiet tonight,” Lauren pointed out, exhaling a stream of smoke from her new cigarette into his face. “Were you mentally preparing your screenplay the whole night?”
Trevor stood up tall, deciding to run with the opening and not delay this moment any longer. He projected as much gravitas as possible as he prepared to speak.
“I was a bit distracted tonight but it didn’t have anything to do with the screenplay,” Trevor opened, his nerves leading him to stumble on his words a bit. “Well, I guess the screenplay had a little to do with it because it finally gave me the confidence to do something I’ve wanted to do since I finished college.”
Lauren furrowed her brow and took a penetrating drag from her cigarette, having a pretty good idea where this was going.
Trevor dropped to one knee and confirmed Lauren’s suspicion. His airspace occupied by a fitting haze of Lauren’s exhaled cigarette smoke, he began his proposal. “Lauren, you have been my rock through my many months of struggle, standing by me when most girls would have walked away. I’ve loved you more than you can know every step of the way, but I couldn’t bear the idea of promising you forever until I got my life in order. For the last 16 months, I’ve been looking for any glimmer of light on my horizon that could justify asking you to accept this,” he paused to remove the ring from his pocket and show it to her. “You gave me the first glimmer with your beautiful words last night, and the hand of fate gave me the second glimmer today. It’s finally our time, Lauren. Will you continue to be my rock and accept this rock?”
Lauren giggled amidst the shedding of a couple tears, but there was an unmistakable hint of discontent on her face, much as she tried to suppress it.
“Trevor, I believe I asked you a question first,” Lauren mused in reference to her own proposal five years ago, trying to be lighthearted but recognizing the anger in her own voice as she spoke.
Trevor chuckled, remaining on one knee with the ring held out. “You certainly did. And it’s so amazing that five years later we get another chance to do this proper.”
“Proper?” Lauren fired back, this time not even trying to hide her anger, training her gaze on the diamond ring in Trevor’s eyes rather than looking directly at him. “There was nothing less proper about my proposal than yours, Trevor. I’ve been waiting for your answer for five years and I’m not answering any questions from you until I get that answer.”
Trevor was mortified as a scenario he never even considered was unfolding in the aftermath of baring his soul to the love of his life. He finally stood up, realizing his proposal hadn’t landed well at all. The haze of Lauren’s exhaled smoke he ascended into had far less romantic connotations than it had a couple moments earlier when his knee was on the descent.
“Lauren, there hasn’t been a day in the last seven years that I haven’t wanted to spend my life with you,” Trevor bargained. “Of course my answer is yes. Even though I couldn’t bring myself to say it until I had established some roots, my answer was yes five years ago too. I thought you knew that.”
Lauren’s tears of joy had morphed into tears of disappointment. “Our love was never about establishing roots, Trevor. It’s not some debt that has to be repaid only when life is working out as you planned.”
Trevor grabbed hold of her and hugged her. She fell into his arms, in disbelief that their second attempt at proposing marriage was fumbled as badly as the first.
“The funny thing is I had half a mind to propose to you last night after you walked me off the ledge about giving up my writing dream,” Trevor articulated. “Clearly, I should have gone with my gut last night. But I’ve always been stubborn about demanding more of myself than you’ve demanded of me, and it led me astray into this transactional mindset about finally taking our amazing love story to its final stage of commitment. Certainly someone with as much Norwegian lineage as you can understand that kind of stubborness, right?”
Lauren’s body shook with silent laughter in Trevor’s arms, and she squeezed him a little bit tighter to signal that she liked what she was hearing now more than she did a couple of minutes earlier. She pulled apart from Trevor to make eye contact, taking another drag from her cigarette and then exhaling into his face, signaling he was officially back on her good graces.
Still holding Lauren by her waist, Trevor pounced on the momentum. “It’s hard not to appreciate the irony. A writer who gets a contract to write a screenplay in the day can’t get the words right to land a marriage proposal that same night.”
Lauren chuckled again as she stared deeply into Trevor’s eyes, but Trevor couldn’t ignore the lingering sadness on her face, quickly appreciating he still wasn’t in the clear.
“There’s something you need to know about me before you agree to marry me, Trevor,” Lauren sighed, deciding now was the time to air all of the dirty laundry.
Trevor was instantly deflated, recognizing that his instincts were right about Lauren keeping secrets and bracing himself for the worst. “What is it?” he finally mustered up the courage to ask.
Lauren took another drag from her cigarette, letting out a smoker’s cough thematically consistent with her admission of weakness. “I have a gambling problem….and I have for a year and a half now,” she confessed.
Trevor turned his head with genuine surprise. “Okaaaay”, he responded, holding out for more information.
“Two or three days a week I’ve been skipping out of work to go to the casino,” Lauren continued. “When I come home late, it’s almost never because I have to work overtime. It’s because I spent a couple hours playing video poker in the middle of the day. You know poker’s been a weakness of mine going back to when we were teenagers.”
Trevor stood in the smoky haze, processing this revelation. “How bad are we talking?” he asked, leaving the question open-ended so she could tell her story.
“I’ve had a bad couple of months,” Lauren confessed with a shameful gesture. “Going back to last year, I’ve lost over $15,000.”
“Yikes,” Trevor responded, realizing she’d lost the equivalent to two of his screenplay contracts.
“I know,” Lauren sulked, for a moment unable to maintain eye contact. “Now you know why I wasn’t able to judge you when you were struggling to find anybody to buy your writing. However unproductive you felt on your days sitting in front of the keyboard, at least you weren’t blowing a car payment on a poker machine like I was.”
Trevor’s guilt about innocently introducing her to the casino on her 21st birthday pivoted to anxiety over the talk of missed car payments. “Are we in that bad of shape?” he asked for clarification.
“No, no. We’ll be okay,” Lauren confirmed, dragging from her cigarette. “I mean, we will be if I get this under control and quit losing money.”
Trevor nodded with a measure of relief.
“And I know this might sound like a cliched gambler’s excuse, but I think I’m over the hump after yesterday,” Lauren continued through a talking exhale. “Some dude at the casino was trying to hook up with me and didn’t believe I had a boyfriend since he only ever saw me there alone. It never hit me hard enough that I was burning through so much money at the casino, but it did hit me hard that it was costing me so much time….and trust….with you.”
Trevor smirked at her candor. He was taken aback by the unexpected revelation but relieved that Lauren’s secrecy streak did not involve an irreversible betrayal of trust. “So how confident are you that you can kick the casino cold turkey?”
“Very,” Lauren replied without hesitation, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Because you’re gonna help keep me honest once we’re married,” she added with a wink, exhaling the smoke into his face as she smoothly slipped in the backdoor response to his marriage proposal.
A relieved smile emerged on Trevor’s face as he got the answer he was looking for even if it took the long way to get there.
“You can track my phone. You can freeze my side of our shared bank accounts and credit card. You can even hire a private detective to make sure I’m not at the casino,” Lauren explained, taking the final drag from her cigarette and crushing it out in the ash can. “I want my life with you to be without secrets and I’ll do whatever I have to to win back your trust.”
“Nothing to win back,” Trevor reassured. “It was never lost. Wasn’t even a consideration.”
Lauren smiled back. “And for whatever it’s worth, I’m promising you here and now that I’m done gambling. And even if that doesn’t mean anything sitting here right now, you’ll know I’m serious when we walk down that aisle. I’m a girl who keeps her promises,” she vowed with rock-ribbed sincerity, echoing the statement she gave to her doctor in reference to her promise to her mom to one day quit smoking.
Trevor maintained extended eye contact, hit harder than anticipated by Lauren’s existential pledge, the depth of their newly christened vow of lifetime commitment suddenly becoming real. He pulled close for their first kiss as an engaged couple. He’d shared hundreds of kisses with Lauren in the seven years they’d been a couple, but the smoky sensuality of this kiss struck him as hard as their first kiss in his parent’s car on the same night he lit her cigarette for the first time. And he could tell she felt the same as they prolonged the moment far beyond the duration of a typical kiss.
As they finally pulled apart, they maintained loving eye contact until Lauren broke the silence. “So when do we tell our families? As long as they’ve been waiting for this news, it would just be cruel to keep them waiting too much longer.”
Trevor nodded, mulling over the timeline for a few moments before coming up with a good solution. “My sisters are both out of town for the weekend so tomorrow’s out….but maybe we could build up some suspense with a group text to meet at either my parents’ place or yours on Sunday night. Then maybe we can break the news to everyone.”
Lauren smiled and pulled in for another kiss. “I like the way you think, baby. You’re gonna make a good husband some day,” she playfully complimented in between kisses, getting both of them worked up. Their passion built as they continued to make out on the couch.
During a brief intermission in the makeout session, Trevor eyeballed Lauren mischievously. “I’m gonna put you to the test on being a girl who keeps her promises before we head to the bedroom,” he schemed.
Lauren raised her eyebrow, asking with playful confusion, “What do you mean?”
Trevor stuck his nose in the air, feigning offense. “Somebody showed me something in her purse this morning that she told me would be making an appearance tonight.”
“Ooooooh, that’s right,” Lauren remembered, leaping off the couch to grab her purse, quickly returning and removing the Toro cigar. As Trevor stared at the stout stogie, he had all he could do to avoid licking his lips knowing that it would be in Lauren’s mouth in mere moments.
“Down boy,” Lauren teased as she ripped off the cigar’s cellophane wrapper and snipped off the cap. “I’m not sure you can handle this.”
Grabbing hold of Lauren’s lighter, Trevor smirked at her confidently. “Oh I can assure you that I can,” he boldly insisted, approaching the flame to the foot of the cigar wedged in her mouth. “And you’re not the only one around here who keeps their promises.”
Lauren giggled the first burst of cigar smoke to life, savoring the taste of her celebratory engagement night cigar, over the moon that her mate for life was gonna savor it even more without his lips ever touching it. As their shared airspace clouded up and Trevor’s eyes became ravenous with lust, Lauren chuckled for a second as she recalled how close she came to wasting this cigar at the casino yesterday afternoon.
——————
Jarrod rolled the dice onto the Monopoly board, his roll yielding a combined eight moves.
“Shit! Going to jail,” Jarrod cursed as he moved his racecar piece across the board.
“Jail is the safest place you can be right now, my friend,” Haylee smugly asserted, cigarette bobbing in her mouth as she spoke. “It’s the only place you can stay rent-free and avoid my empire.”
Jarrod nodded in agreement, too mesmerized by Haylee’s smoky arrogance to get emotionally invested in his pending defeat. “I know but I’ve always had a phobia about Monopoly jail,” he mused.
Haylee laughed with vigor, belching out another flurry of cigarette smoke that inadvertently enveloped Jarrod with the agony of defeat. “I remember that actually! You used to be more afraid about going to jail than losing all your money and property.”
Haylee then rolled the dice for her turn, again avoiding Jarrod’s singular stronghold in the Pacific, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania wing of the board. She puckered her lips around her cigarette and dragged, vowing with gangster gusto, “I do believe I’m gonna win.”
“It’s not over yet!” Jarrod vowed as he rolled the dice, silently acknowledging that it was just a matter of time. He chose to remain in jail rather than pay the bail money needed to get out.
The two of them continued to trade turns on the game they’d been playing from the light of the campfire for the last two and a half hours. Both were deeply immersed in the nostalgia of years earlier, enjoying the presence of the more mature versions of one another, perhaps even more so after their unlikely moment of bonding that preceded the game. The power imbalance of babysitter and ward that punctuated their Monopoly games in the past had receded, and the result was a joyous vacation from reality exactly as both had wished for when they embarked on this camping trip.
Facing a potential game-ending throw as he could no longer stay in hiding in Monopoly jail, Jarrod blew on the dice before rolling them. He quietly recognized that a roll of a six, eight, or nine would end his game, watching as the two dice settled on the board.
“Nine!!” Jarrod exclaimed, landing on New York Avenue where Haylee had a hotel. “That was my worst-case scenario.”
Haylee grinned through her dangling cigarette. “That’ll be $1,000, my good sir.”
Jarrod shook his head in lighthearted defeat, counting his pittance of remaining cash and looking at the mortgage value of his remaining properties, quickly determining he couldn’t afford her $1,000 rent.
“Looks like that’s the game,” Jarrod admitted in defeat. “Congratulations.”
Haylee’s smug smile expanded. “Nothing personal. Just business,” she taunted, a granny ash falling from her cigarette onto the board for the second time tonight.
Jarrod tried to rein in his awestruck response watching the ash land on the board and quickly get blown into oblivion by the breeze, but a tingle of satisfaction ricocheted through his young body at the visual. The enchanted memories of his inappropriate boyhood infatuation with Haylee and their shared Monopoly games were reinforced and amplified by pubescent sex drive, and he forced himself to shake out of it before Haylee noticed.
“I’m in a good mood so I won’t flip the board over like I used to do,” Jarrod recalled.
Haylee laughed again, forcing another burst of her smoke into Jarrod’s airspace. “I definitely remember your tantrums when you used to lose. I hope you don’t still do that.”
Jarrod blushed. “No way! Not in at least two months!”
As Haylee laughed again, Jarrod unpacked their game. “I knew it was over for me when you were landing on all the orange properties…..St. James, Tennessee, and New York.”
“Yeah?” Haylee inquired, nudging Jarrod to elaborate.
“Those are the best values with the highest return,” Jarrod explained. “They don’t cost a lot to buy or to build houses and hotels….but they still pay out a lot when the other person lands on them. When I had to pay $200 for houses and hotels on my side of the board, you were paying $100 for each of yours, and you picked away at my fortune before I could build mine up. For the most part, whoever gets a monopoly on the orange properties is gonna win the game.”
“Wow!” Haylee responded, impressed with the boy’s critical thinking. “You really must play this game a lot.”
Jarrod shrugged with faux humility, pleased that Haylee seemed impressed. “I suppose I shouldn’t have shared my secrets. Just promise not to tell my brother and parents.”
Haylee puckered her lips around her spent cigarette for one more dangling drag, grinning as she tossed the butt into the fireplace before responding. “Deal.”
A moment of awkwardness ensued as Jarrod stared at a smiling Haylee, residual trickles of smoke spraying from her mouth and nose. He looked away after becoming intimidated by the prolonged eye contact with this unattainable bombshell.
Haylee, sensing his discomfort, felt a sense of compounding guilt. “Not to make things weird, but I owe you an apology, Jarrod.”
“For what?” Jarrod asked.
“Well, first for forcing you to deal with listening to my drama tonight. You were an awesome listener but I know that’s not what you came here for,” Haylee responded.
“It’s fine,” Jarrod replied, anticipating there would be a follow-up.
“But even more for being inappropriate with you when I babysat you,” Haylee continued. “I mean, I was just an insecure kid myself so I liked attention and I liked to be the boss. I spent way too much time yelling at you and I got way too cheap of a thrill flaunting around in my bikini by the pool.”
Jarrod was momentarily paralyzed, hearing Haylee acknowledge for the first time that her seduction was at least partially conscious, even if done entirely for self-validation. He decided to own his own role through sarcasm rather than protest.
“Hmmmm…..I never noticed,” Jarrod mugged with a smirk that said otherwise.
A husky laugh emerged from Haylee. “Yeah right!” She paused before continuing. “Seriously though, part of me knew what I was doing was wrong and I just hope I didn’t mess you up too bad.”
Jarrod froze again. His mind was blown at the disconnect between his former babysitter’s self-reflection and her failure to appreciate just how badly she did mess him up. The fact that more mature versions of themselves had spent the evening bonding made him all the more paranoid and self-conscious that she would at some point figure out just how depraved he was, and that she was the catalyst for most of it. As he watched Haylee open her pack of Camel Pink No. 9s to pluck out another cigarette, his heart raced with enraptured anticipation and then sunk with humiliation that she would one day learn of the trophy showcase concealed in Ziploc bags in his bedroom closet.
But just as always seemed to be the case when it came to Haylee, Jarrod’s instinct led him to push his luck. As she placed the cigarette in her lips, Jarrod pounced. “I’ll forgive you under one condition,” Jarrod opened wryly.
“What’s that?” Haylee asked, unlit cigarette bouncing between her lips.
“If you let me light your cigarette for old time’s sake,” Jarrod delivered the punch line, hoping his gamble would be met with a favorable reaction.
Haylee laughed again. “Thanks for reminding me of one more inappropriate thing I did when I babysat you,” she teased before handing him her lighter.
“But I always did it so well,” Jarrod bragged as he leaned forward with lighter in hand, cherishing this forbidden pastime he had shared so many times with his babysitter while recognizing that, despite his fantasies otherwise, this would be the most intimate moment he was gonna get with Haylee this weekend.
Haylee watched as Jarrod’s thumb confidently rolled the flint wheel of her lighter and generated a flame. As she accepted the flame at the tip of her cigarette and observed Jarrod carefully evaluating her face and chest as she breathed the tobacco cylinder to life, it occurred to her that she just might have messed him up worse than she expected when she began her apology.
“Thank you, sir,” Haylee offered generously with an even more generous eruption of secondhand smoke, attempting to camouflage her mixed feelings after getting this clear-headed snapshot of the psychological ramifications of the young boy she long ago corrupted.
“My pleasure,” Jarrod added, inadvertently contributing further to Haylee’s discomfort.
The two of them began to put away the Monopoly board, enjoying the breeze in silence. Haylee looked at Jarrod, her guilt about messing with this poor boy’s head yielding to pride that she had a hand in the coming of age of this emotionally and intellectually intelligent young man. Puckering her lips around her cigarette for an introspective drag, she only hoped she wouldn’t let him down as she ran with his advice in the next phase of her life.
Looking around, Haylee and Jarrod both noticed few campfires were still burning on the campgrounds and both decided the first day of their adventure had reached its natural conclusion.
“I think it’s time for me to douse this fire and call it a night,” Haylee stated through her ongoing dangle. “We don’t want to be the ones keeping everybody else awake like the band that kept you awake half the night the last time you went camping.”
“Right,” Jarrod said with a chuckle, savoring the final moments of tonight’s campfire and the final moments of close proximity to Haylee and her smoky milieu.
“I was thinking tomorrow we could drive around and see some fall colors, check out some waterfalls. Sound okay?” Haylee asked.
“Sounds good to me,” Jarrod replied.
“Great,” Haylee concurred. “We’ll be camping here again tomorrow night and then driving home on Sunday morning….if you think you can stand me that long.”
“Only if I get a Monopoly rematch,” Jarrod said with a smirk.
Haylee laughed through her dangling cigarette. “Maybe.”
The two of them wished each other good night and then diverged to their respective tents. Jarrod listened intently from inside his tent, hearing the campfire get doused by a bucket of water Haylee had filled up earlier. He continued to listen until the extended silence confirmed that she had officially settled down for the night. It was only then that he felt comfortable enough to make up for lost time, reaching down to unbuckle his jeans and unzip the fly. He had decided against rubbing one out at the gas station earlier, and was grateful he hadn’t because it allowed him to build physical and emotional momentum for this moment of solitude where he could fully unload.
As he stroked himself, Jarrod fantasized as he so often did about sexual fulfillment with Haylee. It was pretty obvious to him that wasn’t gonna happen and he reprimanded himself for those stray moments when he convinced himself it might. His emotional connection tonight with the childhood babysitter he so revered was intense enough that it was almost as satisfying as losing his virginity to her. He knew he wasn’t biologically mature enough to have satisfied Haylee at a carnal level, but using his preternatural intellect and problem-solving skills sure seemed to have satisfied her at an emotional level. Considering where the relationship started, either years ago as his bossy babysitter or yesterday afternoon as the immature seventh-grader begging to go camping with her, Jarrod considered that a win.
Jarrod became nervous as the sensation arose telegraphing that his body was about to get off. He didn’t know if he had any paper towels handy, but then remembered he had one in his pocket from the s’mores. He was grateful, because he was about to deposit a full day’s worth of unspent desires onto the floor of this tent and needed something to clean it up with.
——————
The next day, Courtney laid awake in her husband’s boyhood bed in the early AM hours. Darkness dominated her periphery as she laid in bed with Wade, the only source of light peeking through the crack between the floor and the bottom of the bedroom door. Voices whispered in the hallway, just barely audible enough for her consumption. This was a dairy farm and Courtney knew her in-laws and her son would be waking up early for their milking rounds, and at least for this morning, she was grateful for it.
“Is grandpa ready?” Anthony power-whispered to his grandmother just outside Courtney and Wade’s bedroom door.
“Shhh! Quiet Anthony. Your mom and daddy are trying to sleep,” Wade’s mother Louise reminded her grandson in a hushed tone. “Grandpa’s in the bathroom right now but he’ll meet us in the kitchen.”
“Okay!” Anthony replied with another power-whisper.
“Oh look at you. First one up and dressed to go milking,” Louise doted upon her grandson, the gentle sound of her kiss on his forehead bringing a smile to Courtney’s face as she listened. “How do pancakes sound this morning?”
“Good!” Anthony replied favorably.
“Thought you’d like the sound of that!” Louise reacted. “I’ll whip up a batch while you men are out milking. Hope you have an appetite by sunrise.”
Louise and Anthony’s voices trailed off as they walked toward the kitchen, with Courtney wide awake and waiting for a bit more privacy to make her move. She was dying for her first cigarette of the morning but continued to lie quietly for another 10 minutes or so until she knew Anthony and his grandpa had gone outside for milking.
Once she was sure the coast was clear, Courtney threw the covers off and stood up, stumbling toward the bedroom door and locking it. She then walked back toward the bed and turned the lamp on the nightstand up to its lowest wattage option before sitting on the bed. She picked up her pack of Marlboro Light Menthol 100s and slipped one out, lighting it and taking the first drag as she slipped the covers back over herself and sat up against the head board.
Wade began to rustle next to her just as she hoped he would, looking over at his wife through squinted eyes and no shortage of umbrage. “What are you getting up to go milk or something?” he asked with annoyance while watching his wife exhale a huge stream of cigarette smoke that quickly hovered over the bed like an extra blanket.
“Good morning, sleepy head,” Courtney responded with off-putting joviality.
Wade turned over to look out the bedroom window, seeing nothing but blackness. “It doesn’t look like morning to me. Why the hell are you waking me up at this hour for any another reason than to go to the barn and pick up a bucket?”
“Well, I have something I’d like to talk to you about,” Courtney replied, maintaining her cheeky demeanor.
Wade stared at her with continued annoyance. “And it can’t wait until after sunrise?” he asked, groggy and cranky.
Courtney couldn’t wait any longer, staring at him with urgency and knowing he’d be at full attention with what she was gonna say next after dragging from her cigarette.
“I want to have another child. How do you feel about that?” Courtney asked, chuckling as she watched Wade’s eyes open up like rose petals in May.
“Like, now?!?!” Wade asked in astonishment.
“I was thinking more like nine months from now,” she teased, exhaling another playful plume of cigarette smoke.
Wade then sat up, maintaining eye contact with his wife. “But I thought you didn’t want any more kids until you got your career established.”
Courtney shrugged, breathing out wisps of residual smoke while preparing to articulate her thoughts. “I didn’t….but there’s always gonna be another roadblock on the horizon if we think that way. If we have another kid now, Anthony will have another sibling not too far apart in age, and my dad will still be working and we can take advantage of the free daycare at his office.” She paused before continuing on a more somber note. “Plus you know what’s going on with my mom. Women in my family gotta have kids young if we want ’em to know their mothers.”
Wade gave her a somber, sympathetic nod before Courtney reverted back to positive vibes.
“I want to have a daughter, Wade,” Courtney gushed, passion on her face and in her voice.
“A daughter would be nice…” Wade mused open-endedly, giving Courtney a chance to continue her presentation.
“As I’ve been doing these psychological profiles on the schoolchildren, I found that I really got the boys. They were an open book. And I figure that was because of Anthony,” Courtney explained. “But with girls, I just feel like I’m filtering their lives through my own experience, and it’s not fair to them.”
Courtney paused for a moment, taking another drag from her cigarette and choosing her next words carefully so as not to say anything revealing about the self-inflicted trauma she swore to keep to herself forever just last night. “Plus, it would be kind of like a do-over….a chance to guide a daughter away some of the bad choices I made…..and toward some of the better choices. I think it would be good for all three of us.”
Wade listened, nodding supportively while processing his own feelings on the matter.
“Any strong objections?” Courtney asked, tipping off that her before-dawn presentation was complete. “Or are you with me on this?”
“I mean, you’re making some good points,” Wade acknowledged with a teasing flourish. “I think I’m in.”
“That’s good,” Courtney responded with a frisky eyebrow flutter, shifting her left hand under the bed sheets and penetrating the waist line of his boxers to grab hold of his manhood. “Because I’d like to get started right now,” she glowed, taking a final drag from her cigarette with her free hand.
Wade was aghast for the second time in the last few minutes at his wife’s audacity. He pulled himself together while feeling Courtney stroke his penis to erection. “You know, my mom is downstairs making breakfast right now. I think I might be a little bashful making these bed springs bounce over her head….and I know she’d be a whole lot bashful listening to it,” Wade explained halfheartedly, the passion in Courtney’s eyes chipping away at his resolve.
“I think your mom would understand if she knew we were up here making a granddaughter for her,” Courtney argued, stroking her husband’s hulking erection with greater intensity.
Wade nodded, at this point needing little more persuasion to embrace Courtney’s argument.
“No pills. No condoms. No UTDs. I’ll be raw-dogging it old school,” Courtney enticed, fluttering her eyelashes suggestively while continuing to stroke him. “I seem to remember you liking it that way.”
“Are you gonna keep talking until I’m back asleep or are you gonna climb on up here for a ride?” Wade teased, giving his formal consent.
Courtney flashed a gleeful grin as she slipped out of her pajamas while Wade slid out of his boxers. In a matter of seconds, Courtney’s sultry feminine form was climbing onto the bed. Wade watched with thunderous joy that the woman he loved whose glorious body had given birth to his child was preparing to use that body to create another.
“Let’s make a daughter,” Courtney muttered with unshakable determination as she climbed on top of him, making eye contact in the moment before penetration.
“And what happens if we end up with another son instead of a daughter?” Wade asked a split second before being engulfed by her genital moisture.
Courtney hoisted her body onto his throbbing penis, its girth taking her breath away as it always did as she slid down the extended shaft. When she regained her composure, she smirked at him. “Then we’ll just have to keep trying, won’t we?”
Wade grinned as she placed her hands on his chest and used it for leverage to commence intercourse. The challenges of having to parent another child briefly popped into Courtney’s head, but she quickly let it pass and decided to focus on the enjoyment of conceiving another one.
—————
A few hours later, Steve McPherson tinkered around in the garage of the family home, his long-standing Saturday morning ritual that helped him keep tabs on household repairs that needed to be tended to. His cell phone began to vibrate and he picked it up, surprised to see the name “Trevor” as the source of the incoming call.
“Hey Trevor,” Steve greeted.
“Hey dad,” Trevor replied. “Are you alone out in the garage?”
“Yes,” Steve answered, struck by Trevor’s direct inquiry. “It is a Saturday morning after all.”
“Right,” Trevor chuckled. “Lauren’s doing her workout right now so I thought this would be a good time to call.”
“Okay,” Steve reacted with a hint of confusion. “I got a text from the two of you a couple of hours ago. Seemed kind of important.”
“Uh, yeah,” Trevor responded, a hint of trepidation in his voice. “It’s not often I get to call a family meeting to order but I hope you’ll be available tomorrow night at 6.”
Steve smiled. “I’m pretty confident your announcement is gonna be one of two things…..either a wedding or a stork in your future.”
Trevor chuckled nervously. “Uh yeah, spoiler alert…it’s the first one.”
“Well congratulations, son. It’s been a long time coming,” Steve congratulated with a chuckle. “A looong time!”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Trevor responded, getting to the uncomfortable part. “That’s actually why I’m calling.”
“Oh,” Steve reacted, taken aback by the serious pivot in tone. “I hope you’re not having cold feet about Lauren.”
“Oh no, no….not at all!” Trevor confirmed. “I’ve wanted to marry her since my junior year of high school and still do.”
“Whew!” Steve expressed his relief. “You had me nervous there for a second. What’s the issue then?”
Trevor paused, trying to articulate his inquiry with as minimal awkwardness as possible. “I don’t want to make this weird, dad….but the two of us have a pretty obvious and unique preference for the women we’re attracted to. It’s not the sort of thing I like to talk about and I’m sure the same is true for you, but I feel like I have to today,”
Steve stood in dumbfounded silence, ambushed by his son about their shared smoking fetish, a topic he’d never spoken about before to anybody but his priest. It was entirely fair for Trevor to broach this topic, and it would have been at any point since his awareness of it, but for selfish reasons Steve had hoped the topic would never come up.
“I think I know what you mean, Trevor,” Steve finally got around to responding. “Go ahead and speak your mind and I’ll do my best to help.”
“Thanks,” Trevor responded, still committed to keeping the awkwardness to a minimum. “Well, when Lauren and I were discussing our future together last night, she told me she always keeps her promises….and it hit me hard. We’re both gonna be standing up there on the altar vowing our support and commitment to each other for the rest of our lives, but with my strong feelings about this destructive part of her lifestyle, I feel like I’m not being fully honest when vowing to support her ‘in sickness and in health’. I mean, if indulging my preferences is what leads her from health to sickness, are my vows really gonna be sincere?” He paused for a moment before putting the onus on his father. “Did you ever struggle with that when you married mom?”
“Uh, whoa, that’s pretty deep Trevor,” Steve replied, put on the spot. “I guess I never thought of it quite in those terms but I definitely struggled with my conscience in basically giving permission or even encouragement of your mom’s lifestyle. There’s a definite balancing act there between selfish fulfillment and doing right by the one you love. I’ve been married to your mom for 26 years now and I still feel guilty about it. Since you’re calling me on a Saturday morning to ask about this, I expect the same will be true for you.”
When his father’s response hit a pause, Trevor pressed. “Is it something you ever discussed with mom?”
“Uh, no,” Steve replied with a nervous laugh. “I haven’t talked about this with your mom any more than I have with you up until today. The closest I’ve come is letting her know I’d be an ally if she ever wanted to go for a healthier lifestyle. My advice would be for you to do the same with Lauren. It’s not gonna clear your conscience completely, but it’ll give her peace of mind. It’ll make sure she knows that you mean more to her than just her bad habits.”
“I’ve tried to make that clear in the past,” Trevor confessed. “…but I’m not sure if she really believed it since it’s a part of her lifestyle that I’m so clearly turned on by. Do you think there’s a way I can convince her that I’m sincere when I tell her I’ll support her if she wants to quit? And that I’m not secretly hoping she’ll fail?”
“Ugh, you’re full of hard questions today, Trevor,” Steve reacted with an uncomfortable chuckle, contemplating his response for a moment before opening his mouth. “Your mom and Lauren are both incredible women. They’re also both very intelligent. If you’re being real with them, they’ll know. They recognize the difference between showing support and just talking about it. At least with your mom, and I suspect with Lauren too, a part of them knows that because of the way they live their lives, they’re gonna need your support later if not sooner. They wouldn’t have agreed to marry us if there was ever any doubt that they’d get that support.”
Trevor pondered his father’s answer before pivoting to his mother’s dementia challenges. “I’m sure you knew about mom’s family issue when you got married.”
“I did,” Steve answered. “Your mom had two strikes against her for living a long life. The dementia always haunted me more than the other stuff. And it appears for good reason. I went into my wedding day knowing there was a very good chance I’d end up a widower and, if we’re being honest, that’s gonna be true of you too. So while you’re asking me if it’s selfish that we’re vowing forever despite enabling their health vulnerabilities, your mom and Lauren are probably asking themselves if it’s selfish for them to vow forever to us knowing we’ll probably outlive them because of those same health vulnerabilities.”
“Interesting plot twist,” Trevor responded, nodding at the wisdom of an inverse scenario he’d never considered.
“Yeah, well you know what? None of us would be right,” Steve affirmed. “To have and to hold till death do us part. That’s what we’re vowing. There’s no point in getting hung up on the semantics if we get that part right.”
Trevor smiled, impressed by his dad’s eloquence, especially when ambushed on such an uncomfortable topic. “And here I thought I was the poet of the family,” he said for a bit of levity.
Steve chuckled. “Well, I certainly don’t mean to make light of it. It’s hell to see the person you love spiral before their time. Chances are, you’ll be in a little better shape with Lauren than I am with your mom….or at least you’ll have more time and Lauren will have more freewill to get ahead of it. Just as I pray for a miracle with your mom beating expectations with her condition, I’ll save a prayer for you and Lauren to live your lives the way you want to and still have a long lifetime together.”
“I really appreciate that, dad,” Trevor thanked.
“You’re welcome, Trevor,” Steve replied. “I know it’s not so easy for us McPherson guys to communicate with each other like this. Sorry about that.”
Trevor laughed. “Well we definitely should have started it earlier,” he conceded. “And we should definitely do it more often from now on.”
“Agreed,” Steve responded. “Call me anytime before or after the wedding. No matter how much the topic makes my jaw hit the floor, I’ll give you the best advice I can.”
“Take care dad. I’ll let you get back to your garage time,” Trevor joked.
“Bye Trevor,” Steve closed, ending the call.
Trevor sighed as he set down the phone, the father-son conversation he had long dreaded now in the rear view mirror and not nearly as painful as he’d feared. His father’s advice resonated above and beyond his expectations, and he felt confident he’d be able to say “I do” to Lauren with a clear conscience in a way he wouldn’t have before he made the call.
Trevor smirked as he unpacked the conversation, realizing he and his father somehow got through their first conversation about their shared smoking fetish in Trevor’s 23 years alive without even once mentioning smoking by name. As the flavor of Lauren’s cigar from the night before still lingered on Trevor’s breath, he wondered if his dad had likewise engaged in this cryptic conversation with the taste of his mom’s Marlboros in his mouth. He shook his head at the wackiness of this uniquely McPherson male predicament.
As Trevor reflected further, he really hoped Lauren would be able to quit smoking on the timeline she had discussed with him. It was a long way off though and he knew she’d be doing a lot more self-harm before that time came. He also liked to think his father was right that both he and Lauren would ultimately be at peace with the timeline of their mortality as long as they were clear-eyed about the risks when they make their vows. But if his father wasn’t right, he feared he’d probably end up with plenty of years alone to ask forgiveness for his soul.
———————
Michelle Nelson looked apprehensively at her pulmonologist Dr. Milhaus, her voice quivering as she asked him questions.
“I hope you pushed Lauren hard to quit the other day,” Michelle asserted in reference to Lauren’s recent appointment with him. “She needs to hear it from you how serious her smoking is gonna affect her. I boxed myself in years ago when I told her I wouldn’t lecture her anymore if she promised to quit.”
Dr. Milhaus nodded, choosing his words carefully for professional reasons. “I make sure to press this point with all of my patients who smoke, Mrs. Nelson. Your daughter was no exception.”
Michelle sighed with the frustration of a deeply concerned parent. “Did you sense that you were breaking through at all, doctor? That Lauren was taking this as seriously as she needs to?”
Dr. Milhaus shook his head. “I understand the concern of a loving parent here, Michelle. And especially in a case like this. But as a 22-year-old emancipated adult, your daughter has a right to medical privacy. I can’t disclose any details at all about our interactions from her appointment. I’m sorry.”
Michelle frowned. “I understand.”
“I’d strongly advise you to discuss this matter with your daughter, Michelle,” Dr. Milhaus advised, his stern expression tipping off that the matter was urgent. “I get that it’s not an easy topic but if the conversation is gonna happen, either you or her will have to initiate it.”
Michelle nodded in frustrated agreement. “I get it. And, again, thank you for seeing me on a Saturday.”
Dr. Milhaus nodded somberly and then pivoted to the matter at hand, preparing the X-ray as a visual aid for Michelle to follow along with.
“Well, I knew you’d want to get the results of the biopsy at the first opportunity,” Dr. Milhaus opened. “Unfortunately the tumor is malignant but we’re lucky to have caught it early. We have a number of different treatment options we can pursue, all of which have better than even odds of success with the tumor at this rudimentary stage…”
Michelle’s face quickly lost its shine as her doctor went over the scans and printouts with her. This was the outcome she expected and had mentally prepared herself for, but official confirmation still hit her like a freight train. She did her best to concentrate on Dr. Milhaus as he prepared to break down the prognosis, but thoughts of her family and their reaction to this development left her distracted.
“Now the most common treatment for early-stage, non-small cell lung cancer is surgery,” Dr. Milhaus explained. “There are a variety of different surgery options but the two most common are the lobectomy and the segmentectomy. The lobectomy involves the removal of an entire lobe of the lung containing the tumor along with some of the surrounding tissue and lymph nodes. The segmentectomy would be a smaller wedge-shaped section of the lung lobe removed. This procedure is becoming more common and might be an option based on how small your tumor is, but it’s a little early to diagnose that with certainty.”
Michelle gulped. “Are there any treatment options that don’t involve surgery?”
“Yes, there are,” Dr. Milhaus replied. “The surgery is your best option for a full recovery, especially for a young and vibrant woman such as yourself, but you have some radiation therapy options. Stereotatic Body Radiation Therapy is the most common alternative to surgery and would involve a few weeks of radiation sessions. The likelihood for recovery is comparable to surgery but the downside is the lymph nodes remain intact and the risk of missed cancer spread remains. Outside of traditional radiation therapy, immune checkpoint inhibitors are catching on for recurrence prevention but it’s not quite ready for first-line treatment alone. The literature I’m providing breaks it down in more detail.”
“So it sounds like surgery is probably more likely than not?” Michelle asked, her voice quivering.
“You have options here and I encourage you to look into these options closely and consult with me further, but yes, my recommendation based on what I’m seeing here would be surgery,” Dr. Milhaus answered.
Michelle exhaled as she contemplated the fateful decision that awaited her.
“And I’m afraid I already know the answer to this, but have you communicated anything else to your family about your situation?” Dr. Milhaus asked.
Michelle mousily shook her head no, her guilt tangible.
“It’s time to do so, Michelle,” Dr. Milhaus advised. “You’re gonna need all the emotional support you can get. And you’re gonna need logistical support as well, on everything from rides to and from treatments to help getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. You have to tell them.”
“I think Lauren is gonna announce that she’s getting married tomorrow night,” Michelle responded, her voice trembling and on the edge of a breakdown. “I don’t want to be a wet blanket on her celebration.”
“Well, that’ll be up to you on the timeline of revealing the information to your daughter specifically, but I’m assuming your husband will be your primary family caregiver,” Dr. Milhaus responded. “If that’s the case, I wouldn’t wait any longer than this weekend. I’m gonna need you here for follow-up appointments already next week and I’d strongly advise you include him in on conversations about your treatment option preferences.”
Michelle sat stoically as her doctor’s voice trailed off, her life flashing before her eyes as a single tear rolled down her cheek.
—————-
The next night, a large crowd gathered in the smoky McPherson living room at the behest of Trevor and Lauren who had contacted family and close friends to request their arrival. An atmosphere of joy and jocularity filled the room along with the cigarette smoke as the crowd mingled, awaiting the arrival of the marquee couple.
Moments later, Trevor and Lauren emerged down the stairs carrying a large display board covered by a towel, slowly descending the stairs and approaching the crowd in the living room. A collective chorus of ooooohhs beckoned from the crowd, its members still officially in the dark about Trevor and Lauren’s announcement even though they all had their suspicions.
“Need some help carrying that?” Wade asked with a mix of sincerity and mischief. “I can put that towel in the laundry basket for you.”
Lauren giggled through her dangling cigarette as she and Trevor set the display board on the dining room table to prepare for their presentation. “Oh no!” she scolded playfully. “Everybody gets to see what’s under the towel at the same time as soon as everybody’s here.”
Becky smiled from her recliner, exhaling a stream of smoke from her Marlboro Red. “We’re all waiting on Steve. He should be here any minute with the pizzas.”
“Pizzas?!?” Anthony inquired, his marginal interest suddenly fully engaged at the announcement of his favorite food’s pending arrival, eliciting laughter from the crowd.
“Yes, Anthony. Grandpa’s picking up pizzas,” Becky proclaimed lovingly, looking back at the healthy grandson who she nursed back to health from anaphylaxis only two days earlier.
Trevor and Lauren beamed with an earned pride as they looked over the crowd of people closest to them, both feeling a bit emotional that everyone dropped everything on a Sunday night to join them for their long-awaited big moment. Lauren’s parents Craig and Michelle. Her younger brother Brian. Trevor’s mother Becky with his father Steve on the way. His sisters Courtney and Haylee, along with Courtney’s husband Wade and their son Anthony. And Lauren’s cousin and Haylee’s best friend Carly who detoured to the McPherson home on the way back from her soccer tournament in Wisconsin over the weekend. Everybody was there. Trevor looked Lauren’s way as she took a deep drag from her Marlboro Light 100, and they smiled at each other lovingly, grateful that they held off until now to make this big announcement when everybody could share in the moment.
Trevor and Lauren couldn’t help but look over the crowd as they resumed mingling, appreciating how everybody seemed to get along so well. Lauren watched as her father Craig talked cars and plumbing with Wade, amused by their cross-generational blue-collar connection that she picked up on the first time that the two of them met several years ago. She giggled quietly through her smoky exhale as she mused at the unlikelihood of a Norwegian and a Swede getting along so well.
Trevor observed as Becky and Michelle mingled, his mother breaking down the story of Anthony’s anaphylactic episode to his future mother-in-law. Even though Michelle was uncharacteristically without a cigarette, he appreciated how two very different women had raised the children that would fall in love and how their shared cigarette habits were the catalysts that put the dominos in motion for where he and Lauren stood tonight. Trevor would likely have never had the smoking fetish if not for growing up with Becky’s smoky influence and he likely wouldn’t have made that fateful and out-of-character approach of Lauren on the dock seven years ago if she didn’t have a cigarette in hand, the direct byproduct of Michelle’s influence. It was heartbreaking to witness the contrast between Michelle’s continued vibrancy and his mother’s visible decline as they commiserated, but he convinced himself for the sake of tonight’s high-spirited environment that his mom had quite a few good years left.
Both Trevor and Lauren smiled as they observed Haylee and Carly hitting it off as they bantered on the couch, their close friendship enduring through time and distance.
“We ended up coming in third place in the tournament,” Carly explained to Haylee in reference to the soccer tournament in Wisconsin where she spent the weekend. “It was a lot of fun but exhausting. I’m gonna be so screwed come morning when I have to find the energy to get to class. I’m sure the same will be true for you going back to school tomorrow after your big camping adventure. How’d that go by the way?”
Haylee did her best to hide her mixed emotions, silently acknowledging once again that, unlike Carly, she had no place to go tomorrow. Focusing exclusively on the camping trip, Haylee managed a sincere smile. “It was great actually. And I found someone to go with who really made the trip special.”
“Oooo,” Carly reacted with frisky surprise. “You sure buried the lede there! When will you spill the juicy details around this ‘special’ camping buddy?”
A husky laugh ensued from Haylee. “Nothing like that, I assure you.” She paused to peek in her mom’s direction and make sure she wasn’t listening before continuing in a more subdued tone. “Just give me a few days but you’ll get the full story, okay?”
“Alright,” Carly reacted to Haylee’s cryptic comment. “Everything okay?”
Haylee nodded only half-convincingly before giving a hint of her intentions. “Maybe next weekend if you’re up for it, I’ll take you up on that offer and visit you at school. You can show me around campus and introduce me to some of your friends on the soccer team,” she pressed, seizing a potential opportunity to seek out a life after the University of Minnesota and in embracing Jarrod’s advice to connect with new people and embrace new experiences in the next chapter of her life.
Carly nodded, her radar heightened that something was going on with Haylee. “Sure, anytime. I’ll be on campus next weekend and it would be a blast to have you over.”
Haylee smiled as she lifted her pack of Camel Pink No. 9s and plucked one out, placing a fresh cigarette between her lips and preparing to light it when she looked up to Carly and recognized a familiar longing on her friend’s face….a face that was so much prettier today than it was during Carly’s gawky mid-teen years. Recalling Carly’s visceral attraction to Haylee when she smoked these cigarettes back in their teens, Haylee pounced.
“Would you like one?” Haylee offered, holding out the pack of Camel Pinks with one hand while lighting her own cigarette with the other.
Carly blushed, shaking her head as if knowing she shouldn’t. “Don’t mind if I do,” she answered, removing a cigarette from Haylee’s pack. “But only because it’s the Pinks.”
“You got your soccer tournament behind you for the week,” Haylee teased through the freshly lit cigarette bouncing in her mouth. “You can afford to indulge a little.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Carly responded as she lit the cigarette, taking a deep and satisfying drag consistent with an ex-smoker indulging in a moment of weakness. “But if you start testing my resistance in front of the girls from my soccer team by offering me one next weekend, I’m afraid I don’t know you,” she joked as she took a second deeply satisfying drag.
“Got it,” Haylee responded with a laugh. “Enjoy them while they last. My mom said they’re about to discontinue the Pinks.”
“Oh no!” Carly bellowed with genuine sadness. “What are you gonna smoke when they go away?”
Haylee shrugged as if not prepared to deal with that yet, savoring a dangling drag from the Pink with a mama bear’s protectiveness. “Maybe I won’t have to if I can stock up on enough Pinks.” She then looked to her mother whose attention she’d attained since referencing her. “Maybe on my mom’s next discount cigarette run I can go with and pick up every carton of Pinks in every tobacco shop in Missouri that will last me the rest of my life. What do you say, mom?”
Becky let out an ironic smoker’s cough as she grinned at her youngest daughter. “We’ll discuss it,” she responded halfheartedly before pivoting back to her conversation with Michelle.
For her part, Michelle became distracted at the sight of her niece Carly smoking the Camel Pink, saddened that even after she had quit smoking, the temptation was still there for a relapse. She was living through a heavy moment of temptation herself right now, having vowed to herself yesterday afternoon following her official lung cancer diagnosis to never again touch another cigarette but craving one desperately as she sat in this room full of smokers.
As Haylee puckered her lips around her cigarette for another drag, she couldn’t help but notice Brian Nelson sitting across from her sneaking a glance. He averted his gaze quickly after Haylee made eye contact, enhancing the awkwardness of their being in the same room with one another even six years removed from their limited-time sexual transgression. Particularly with Carly as a wingwoman, Haylee decided to break the awkwardness and engage.
“So Brian, I hear you just started attending St. Olaf,” Haylee asked.
Brian panicked for a second upon hearing the girl he spent his preteen years infatuated with speak his name. “Uh, yeah. Just started on Labor Day weekend,” he responded with a blush, giving himself permission to take a closer look at Haylee with that iconic Camel Pink dangling from her lips just as he remembered it.
“Cool,” Haylee responded through a smoky talking dangle. “Music major I presume?”
“Yep,” Brian answered coolly, preparing to ask Haylee about her higher education status but getting interrupted by his cousin.
“And he’s got himself a woman!” Carly offered through a mischievous smirk. “He just brought her home to meet the parents this weekend and from what I hear she’s pretty fantastic.”
“Oh nice,” Haylee offered to a blushing Brian, feeling a bit jealous that her one-time lover had someone special in her life while she didn’t. “Tell me about her.”
Brian gave Carly an annoyed side-eye for revealing his girlfriend, but giving her a pass as he didn’t think Haylee had ever told Carly about their brief romantic dalliance. “Nora,” Brian finally answered before going into a description of their connection.
Haylee listened to Brian describe Nora with a wave of mixed emotion. She felt like she’d kind of taken advantage of Brian given that she was 15 and he was only 12 when they hooked up. And while she had no regrets at all for breaking things off, listening to him now and hearing what a fine young man he’d become made her nostalgic for the two serious boyfriends she had in high school who she lost either through bad luck or her own choice. She hadn’t had a lover like Jacob Roth or Keegan Robertson in the past five years. She greatly valued her independence but a part of her wanted and needed that presence in her life right now.
And as Brian was temporarily distracted every time Haylee puckered up her lips for another drag from her Camel Pink, she quietly wondered if she’d messed him up as badly as she had apparently messed up Jarrod. It was at that point that she was struck that Jarrod is the same age now as Brian was when she stole his virginity. She coughed on her own cigarette smoke at the epiphany, blushing as she realized she couldn’t seem to break this cycle of corrupting adolescent males just by being herself, and not being sure whether to wear it as a badge of honor or a source of shame.
The front door on the McPherson home opened and the room fell temporarily silent as all eyes drifted toward Steve stepping inside with a stack of pizza boxes. Caught a little off-guard at being the center of attention upon his arrival, Steve looked at Trevor and Lauren and teased. “Dinty Moore beef stew for everyone.”
“Ugh!” the room collectively grunted as Trevor and Lauren both chuckled at their memories of frontier eating at the cabin on their visits together.
Steve set the pizza boxes on the coffee table in the middle of the living room and the famished room prepared to indulge, with Anthony being the first to open the pizza box.
Becky intervened, closing the box and making her grandson wait. “This is Trevor and Lauren’s big night. We shouldn’t make them wait until after we eat before they share their big news.”
The room seemed to agree and all eyes drifted toward the couple standing in front of them. The time had finally come for the big announcement everyone had been waiting for. Trevor looked at Lauren as if trying to decide who should talk. Upon seeing her fiance’s mischievous smirk, Lauren yielded to Trevor figuring he had something in mind.
“Well, thanks to everyone who showed up tonight. This announcement has been a long time coming,” Trevor began, a bit bashful and avoiding direct eye contact until he established himself. “You probably all wondered if this was ever gonna happen but on Friday it did. I got a job…..sort of.”
Lauren smirked amidst confusion and subdued congratulations from the crowd.
“It’ll be official this week when I meet with the studio executive but this unemployed writer just got the green light to write a screenplay,” Trevor continued. “I’ll probably hold off on giving more details until the ink is dry on the contract so as not to jinx it, but uh, that’s all I got.” He looked at Lauren with a smirk. “Let’s eat pizza, everybody!”
Most in the crowd could tell by Trevor’s body language and past precedent as a trickster that he was bluffing, but a giggling Lauren quickly dispelled with her fiance’s subterfuge, tugging his arm before he could lunge for the pizza boxes.
“No, no, no,” Lauren corrected, residual smoke still trickling from her nostrils from the cigarette she’d just crushed out. “Everything Trevor just said is true and I’m sure he’ll share more about that with everybody soon enough, but I believe you have more good news to share with these fine people,” Lauren continued, fluttering her eyelashes at Trevor.
“Oh that’s right,” Trevor teased. “As of Friday night, 10-ish, Lauren and I are an engaged couple.”
“Finally!” Courtney thundered from the crowd only half-jokingly. “Finally!”
A blushing Trevor nodded at his older sister’s heckle as the crowd laughed along jubilantly. “It’s true. Lauren and I took our time with this step, but we waited until the time was unmistakably right. And now we know.”
A cacophony of congratulations rolled in from the crowd, bringing emotional reactions from the loving couple.
Craig was the first one to chime in with a pointed inquiry, smirking at his daughter. “So when am I gonna have to put in my rental order for a nice suit?”
Lauren laughed about her father’s famously casual clothing selection. “We’ve been discussing it and we were thinking in the spring. We’ll make sure we can settle on a weekend that works for everyone here.”
“We promise it won’t be another seven years until the wedding day,” Trevor teased, leading to more joyous laughter from the crowd.
“So give us details!” Carly chimed in. “I’m not seeing any rings on any fingers here.”
“Well,” Trevor responded. “There’s a story there and we’ll share it later but we both have rings and we’d like to do a formal exchange in front of everybody if you’ll indulge us.”
“Oh how sweet,” Becky glowed tearily as she looked toward an equally emotional Michelle.
The engaged couple waited a few moments as everybody in the room prepared their phones to commemorate the big moment. Once he’d gotten his official cue, Trevor held his ring in his hand, bending down on one knee and asking, “Lauren, my love, will you marry the boy who was creeping on you out on Lake Bemidji seven years ago?”
Lauren giggled through her tears of joy. “Yes, Trevor,” she responded with love on her face and in her husky voice as she let Trevor slip the ring onto her finger.
A mischievous smirk then arose on Lauren’s face as she reached for her pack of Marlboro Lights 100s and took one out, eager to re-create her original proposal to Trevor from five years ago. She placed the cigarette between her lips to a mix of laughter and cringes from the crowd until she was startled by the belligerent voice of her mother.
“Lauren, get that cigarette out of your mouth!” Michelle thundered with genuine anger, temporarily quieting the room with the unexpected authority of her disapproval.
A surprised Lauren became downcast and decided not to push the matter in response to her mother’s visceral outburst, setting the cigarette on the end table next to the pack and continuing with the proposal. “Trevor, will you marry me baby?”
“It would be the honor of my life,” Trevor responded warmly, holding back the tears as Lauren finally slipped the engagement ring on his finger that she bought back in high school.
Face to face with the formal obelisks of commitment on each other’s left hands, Trevor pulled in to kiss his betrothed. The couple enjoyed their kiss amidst the distraction of flash bulbs and shutter snaps from every camera in the living room. Heartfelt applause followed as the couple pulled apart from their ceremonial kiss.
“And now, we’d like to show you something we prepared over the weekend,” Trevor continued, pointing to the display board covered by the towel. “Lauren and I did a little photo collage of our seven years together that you might like. Go ahead and take a look at it when you finish your pizza.”
Lauren flashed a joyous smile to the crowd as she theatrically unveiled the collage, featuring a couple dozen of their favorite photos taken over their many adventures together. She and Trevor had fun putting it together, but it was gonna be even more fun to share them with the loved ones in attendance.
Carly was the first to approach the couple and wish them formal congratulations, the stub of her Camel Pink No. 9 still in hand as she gave Lauren a heartfelt hug. “I’m so happy for you, Lauren,” she emphatically cried as she squeezed her tight. “I could tell the first time I saw you with this guy that you had something special.”
Lauren thanked her as the hug split apart and she teasingly sniffed at the aroma of the cigarette in Carly’s hand. “What’s this I smell coming from the soccer star?”
Carly smirked as she took a final drag from the Camel Pink and crushed it out in the ash can. “I remember a time when you were the star athlete and I was the corrupting cousin,” she teased, recalling their adolescence when Lauren picked up her habit based on Carly’s bad influence.
Lauren giggled. “And I remember getting out of sports to get away from girls before you got into sports to get closer to girls.”
Carly laughed back, feigning a “who me?” gesture before winking at Trevor. “You got an amazing girl here Trevor. Keeping treating her right, okay?”
Trevor nodded and thanked her as Carly began studying the photo collage on display as Courtney, Wade, and Anthony approached.
“So be honest with me, Lauren,” Courtney teased, dragging from her menthol cigarette. “You’re not pregnant are you?”
Lauren laughed. “No…but if I was you’d be the first to feel my belly,” she teased, recalling when Courtney was pregnant and let Lauren feel the life inside of her.
“I’ll hold you to that deal,” Courtney played along, momentarily daydreaming about the possibility of she and Lauren raising their kids together if Courtney got pregnant again as planned.
“I just want to let you know that the day you showed me the ring Wade gave you, I was waiting for it to be my turn and now it is,” Lauren confided to Courtney, letting her know how much that moment meant to her.
Courtney and Lauren hugged as Trevor felt a twinge of guilt for having made Lauren wait so long.
“Trevor,” Courtney said, turning to her brother. “You did real good for yourself. I want to hear more about this screenplay you’re writing and the story you teased about this ring exchange.”
“In good time,” Trevor promised, hugging his sister and failing to resist the urge to savor the aroma of menthol smoke clinging to her hair and clothes, the scent that catalyzed his adolescent urges and just might have nudged him to approach Lauren that day on the dock.
Wade gave Lauren a prideful smile, the two of them lost in each other’s gaze as they silently processed the encounter they both knew Lauren went through but had never talked about. Lauren could see a hint of guilt in Wade’s eyes that the Dusty Beaudry incident that had scarred her for so long happened when she visited his hometown. But Lauren projected strength and appreciation for Wade’s support in her return gaze, hoping that he knew she didn’t hold anything against him.
“I’m proud of you, Lauren,” Wade finally expressed verbally, pulling in for a hug.
“Thanks Wade,” Lauren responded emotionally, knowing what Wade was referring to even if nobody else in the room but Trevor did.
Anthony congratuled Lauren with pizza slice in hand and then joined his father in congratulating Trevor before the two of them joined Courtney and Carly looking over the photos displayed in the collage.
Haylee approached next, her emotional purgatory partially disguised by the ever-present Camel Pink No. 9 dangling from her lips. Lauren put on a sad face as Haylee approached but not for the reasons that were making Haylee sad.
“Haylee, I’m so sorry that I didn’t go on that camping trip with you this weekend. It breaks my heart a little that you had to go alone,” Lauren said, genuinely saddened that she couldn’t follow through.
“Things happen for a reason, Lauren,” Haylee responded, cigarette bobbing between her lips. “By staying here this weekend, you got engaged and I got to reunite with an old friend on the camping trip.”
Lauren raised her eyebrow with surprise and could tell there was a story behind it. “You’re right Haylee. Things do happen for a reason,” she responded warmly as she pulled in for a hug, careful not to burn herself on Haylee’s dangling cigarette. “And before I leave tonight, we need to compare schedules and decide on our own weekend to go road-tripping together.”
Haylee nodded in melancholy agreement as they broke apart from the hug, feeling overshadowed by Lauren again but valuing their continued friendship. “I’d love to as long as I’m not interfering with your wedding planning.”
“I’ll make time for you,” Lauren assured with her trademark sincerity.
Haylee nodded with appreciation and then congratulated Lauren again before pivoting to her brother. “I’m really happy for you guys, Trevor,” she offered, her beleaguered voice giving away her disappointment in herself for being the cliched ne’er-do-well youngest sibling watching the rest of her family rise while she stagnated.
Trevor smiled, savoring the visual of his younger sister with a Camel Pink hanging from her mouth just as it was nearly every time he’d seen her for as back as he could remember. Just as he recalled when greeting Courtney moments earlier, Trevor silently acknowledged Haylee’s inadvertent role in motivating him to acknowledge Lauren, smirking a bit as he recalled the lingering scar on his chin that he inherited from Haylee’s cigarette on the ride up to the cabin that day.
Trevor finally reached out to hug Haylee, expressing without words their shared struggle to find their footing in recent years. She felt an even bigger burden in her brother’s embrace, knowing her own revelation to the family would trigger the opposite response as Trevor’s.
“Congratulations, Trevor,” Haylee muttered softly but sincerely, silently deciding then and there that it was time to quit feeling sorry for herself and time to celebrate the courtship that helped grow her one-time geeky brother into a man.
As she migrated to the display of photos, Haylee appreciated that Trevor’s salvation story came from a 15-year-old girl on the dock next to their family cabin. It just might be possible that her own salvation story came from a 12-year-old boy at the campgrounds in front of a Monopoly board. Only time would tell, but she was gonna get started on her next chapter this week.
Brian and Lauren smiled at one another with the earned dignity of siblings who’d long ago set aside their substantial differences. Whatever provocations they continued to engage in as young adults were the matured legacies of their hostilities as children now seen through a more lighthearted lens.
Brian leaned in toward his sister and playfully but coldly mugged, “I hope you had your fun putting Nora and I on the spot last night but don’t forget I got a wedding toast on the way for your big night….and months to prepare for it.”
Lauren laughed. “Oh it is on, little brother!” she exclaimed before pulling in for a hug.
Brian then shook Trevor’s hand, feigning exasperation as he teased, “She’s all yours now, Trevor. My work here is done.”
Trevor laughed and thanked him, the oddball thought crossing his mind for the first time that Brian would soon be his brother-in-law.
Steve and Craig approached next, the fathers of the engaged couple clearly thrilled that their next of kin were poised to formalize the lifetime connection that had seemed inevitable for so long.
Craig extended his hand to shake with Trevor, his expression stoic and sturdy. “You’re a good man, Trevor. I could ask you to look over and do the right thing with my daughter but I already know that you will.”
Trevor shook his future father-in-law’s hand, grateful for his support every step of the way even when his capacity to be a provider was in doubt. As he felt Craig’s firm grip during the handshake, Trevor quietly breathed a sigh of relief that Lauren talked him out of begging him for a job.
Craig then embraced his daughter lovingly. “I always knew this day was coming for you, princess. I can’t wait to walk you down the aisle but it won’t be easy to give you away.”
Lauren wiped away a tear as she broke apart from her father. “Love you, daddy. I can’t wait either.”
Steve then gave Lauren a hug. “Seems like you’ve already been with of us for half your lifetime, but welcome to the family, Lauren.”
“Thank you so much,” Lauren glowed. “You’ve always made me feel like I’m part of the family.”
Trevor and Steve just made eye contact, having said pretty much everything they needed to say to each other yesterday during the phone call. Steve finally muttered softly, “To have and to hold till death do us part,” reinforcing the thesis of their extended chat.
Trevor just nodded in solemn agreement, the two of them understanding the coded message of valuing their respective time together with the women of their dreams even though they feared it to be fleeting and challenging.
Emerging at the end of the makeshift receiving line was the couple’s mothers. An emotional Becky pulled her Marlboro Red from her lips just as she approached Trevor, sending an unintentional but entirely welcomed cloud of smoke into her son’s face before she pulled in for a hug.
“My baby boy’s officially leaving the nest,” Becky lamented.
“I’ve been out of the nest for a year, mom,” Trevor teased.
“Details, details,” Becky reciprocated. “I just know you will be as great of a husband as you have as a son.”
Trevor bit his lip to suppress his emotion once again, the phone discussion with his father reverberating through his mind and reminding him to cherish the time he had left with his mother. He maneuvered a smile onto his face and responded with the kind of loving sarcasm that he knew his mother would understand. “I hope you don’t think me being married will get you off the hook from my cognitive quizzes. I’m still gonna be calling all the time.”
Becky let out a husky laugh that morphed into a smoker’s cough. “Oh wonderful!” she responded with a return volley of her own sarcasm, fully confident that Trevor knew she looked forward to the quizzes as often as she could get them.
“Does he ever grill you with these quizzes?” Becky asked teasingly as she turned to Lauren. “Don’t ever let him think your memory ain’t what it used to be or he’ll be badgering you about identifying every podunk town on the commute to the cabin too.”
Lauren giggled at Becky’s rhetorical question as she embraced her for a congratulatory hug, with Becky softly conveying to Lauren how much she means to Trevor and to her.
Michelle waited for last as she approached Trevor, seeing in him Lauren’s simultaneous savior and destroyer. His presence enlivened Lauren’s spirit but decayed her body with the positive reinforcement of her daughter’s cigarette addiction. The next few weeks would require Michelle to put on a brave face and soldier through a lot of conflicted emotions so she figured she might as well get a head start on it tonight, her neutral expression morphing into a beaming smile that reminded Trevor so much of Lauren.
“Keep your promises to my daughter, Trevor,” Michelle requested cryptically. “And make sure she keeps her promises too.”
Trevor smiled back as they hugged, feeling the vibe was off with Michelle as it had been quite a bit in recent weeks. Emotional discomfort quickly pivoted to physical discomfort as Michelle let out a hacking cough even louder and more cutting than what he’d just gotten from his mom, her body pulsating in his embrace like a ticking time bomb.
“Sorry about that,” Michelle offered without additional comment as they pulled apart, a follow-up tender smile delivered to Trevor that left him a bit cold.
Michelle reserved her most penetrating embrace for Lauren as she pivoted to her daughter. “Congratulations baby,” Michelle gushed.
“Thanks so much, mom. You told me this day would come,” Lauren responded.
Michelle looked in her eyes, wanting to say so much more but deciding that tonight wasn’t the time and this wasn’t the place. “I never want anything less than the very best for you, Lauren,” was all Michelle could get out, touching her hand to her daughter’s face to convey her unconditional love.
Michelle had told her pulmonologist that she was gonna inform her family of her diagnosis this weekend, but just couldn’t bring herself to say anything to anyone with this festive moment upon them. She knew she’d have to tell Craig sooner rather than later, probably within the next couple of days. But looking back at her daughter’s glow on the precipice of becoming a bride, she swore to herself that she was gonna withhold this news from Lauren as long as was possible. With a whole lotta luck and some cooperation from Craig and Brian, maybe she could get through surgery and be in remission before Lauren ever had to find out.
Michelle then drifted to the display board full of photos of the loving couple, listening to the huddle of family and friends rhapsodize over the numerous photos. She took a gander herself but realized quickly that Lauren’s ever-present cigarette rested casually between her fingers in the majority of the photos in the collage. She had to look away, fighting back the tears once again and mentally preparing herself for the need to continue doing so multiple times a day moving forward.
With the receiving line having run out of people to offer congratulations, it was time for Trevor and Lauren to return their focus to one another. Lauren picked up the loose cigarette she’d attempted to light during the ring exchange before her mother’s reprimand. She placed it between her lips as Trevor lovingly leaned forward with her lighter. As Trevor brought her cigarette to life, their eye contact resembled the momentous visual exchange they shared on the dock outside the family cabins five years ago, enduring through the fog of Lauren’s exhaled smoke just as it did then. Without saying a word, they both knew in their hearts that they would spend the rest of their lives together that day five years ago on that dock. Tonight, they had just proven to themselves and to everybody who loved them that their instincts back then were right.
Mark's Smoke Blog 