Smoked Success

4.

"Clarice, is everything okay?" I hear him, the person I didn't want to know about this the most, Christian.

How much does he hate me at this point? On a scale, I'd bet a thousand. How did he know her name? Were they that close? What would he do in a grocery store this often if so? I told you he'd have a shit diet!

"That woman over here shows up, shows me a fake passport and doesn't even have money to pay me!" Clarice, I guess was her name, answers his question. "Like what is she here for?"

"Oh, Clarice, this is my girlfriend, Jessica." He clears his throat, and does what I was afraid of him doing, noticing the cigarettes. "She is British raised by an American mother and has just arrived to New York."

I notice confusion in her eyes, she seemed like she wasn't believing him. I felt very uncomfortable, knowing now my secret's exposed. I didn't want to cause more tension, so I didn't say a word.

"I'll pay, how much does she owe you?" Christian says, breaking the killing silence.

"15 dollars." She says smiling at him.

He gives her the money and she hands him the bag, full of cigarettes. He doesn't look at me, like he's disappointed or something. I feel so guilty and ashamed. He opens the door and lets me pass before him. I walk out as slow as possible, wanting to avoid the talk we'll have later.

But you know it was going to happen anyways.

Ugh, I hated that sub conscience was always right. I'm so stressed, but I'll have to face this like an adult. How I faced a student's crush on me. He was so obsessed with me, glad I put him on the right track. Okay okay, this isn't about that student, it's about Christian.

"Why Jessica? Why didn't you bother telling me?" He says, completely mad. "How many times did I have to tell you that hurting yourself hurts those who are the closest to you?"

"Christian, you won't get it." I start. "Smoking is a habit of mine, a bad one, I know. But I love it, as much as I know it hurts. It doesn't matter for me, it's what makes a bad day pass. It wasn't like I was hiding or anything, last time we saw each other, let me remind you, I smoked 3 cigarettes per day."

I'm not really done, but I don't know how to form the rest into phrases.

"You know I hate it when you smoke, or hurt yourself," He says, letting out a loud sigh. "how much do you smoke per day now?"

"A packet, it's about 3 times what I did before I know, but it's better than those days when it was 4 to 5 packets a day." I say, completely honest.

"Oh my god Jessica, that's a lot." He says, amazed. "Guess you haven't smoked for a long while?"

"Two days, okay? I needed those." I look at the bag from the grocery store.

I needed those white things I hold in my hand and let sink in my lungs.

"Here, I guess." He says, handing me a packet.

I take out one, and look for a lighter in my purse. Ugh, I don't have one.

"I didn't get a lighter." I tell him, not knowing why though.

"I have matches in my car. I use it sometimes when the engine gets fucked up." He heads to his car.

After a few minutes, he hands me the matches, worried but careful.

"Thank you." I say, lighting up my cigarette.

I hold my cigarettes casual way. They were always set behind the second knuckle of the middle finger, then securing them by wrapping my index finger around them. My hand, usually the right one, was relaxed, closed, palm towards me.

Christian kept looking at me, as if what I were doing was art. It wasn't, not to me. It was just a way of escaping, everything. I feel relieved you know, finally done what I was craving. Sorry to those who expect the best out of adult life, it's not always how you want it to go.

"Is it because of me that you're smoking?" Christian asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, why on earth would I do that?" I scoff, it definitely wasn't him.

"Then why?"

"Sometimes life is hard, days are horrible, and a cigarette is all that's available to relieve you." I explain, he'd never understand.

I can't believe I'm almost done with this cigarette, I want another but I don't want to seem like a heavy smoker even though I admit I am. I'll smoke later, when he sleeps.

"Let's go up," I say, holding the turned off cigarette. "I cannot wait to see where I'll sleep."

"Yeah let's go." He says, leaning in for a kiss.

"No Chris, my mouth tastes like shit. You don't need to experience that." I object, trying to sound polite.

But I knew I didn't have to be polite, at all, it's Christian. He knows how I am, I'm not ashamed of showing it.

"I don't kiss you for the taste of your mouth." He says, getting closer.

Then, our lips meet. This kiss was one of the softest ones we'd ever done. He wrapped his hand around my waist, making us get closer. He then cups my head and introduces some tongue to the kiss. Which got it more and more intense. A few minutes later, I ran out of breath.

"We'll continue upstairs." I assure him, giving an apologetic look. I'm so pathetic I can't even make out with my boyfriend.

He leads the way in, we get into the elevator, and he presses on the circled number two. It was very silent, none of us had anything to say to the other. It's a few minutes till we arrive to our floor, his apartment was just in front of the elevator. Unless, he was opening the door to another apartment.

Hadn't he said the door will be open? Why should I overthink it anyway? It's fine now.

"Surprise!" I hear people shouting as I get in.

It takes me a few seconds to understand, Christian has organized a party for my return, more of my departure from home. I see my brother, who was talking with some girl. I see some of the crew that we were close to, Suzan the stylist, Ernestine the outfit picker, Leo the sound fixer.

To my shock, I see two of my best friends. First of all, Oscar, who is my gay best friend. He has a great sense of fashion, always great hair, and not to forget a great sense of humor. He is sort of perfect, except he dies his hair a lot. He is the type that would organize pranks and laugh all day. Second, was Hannah, who has recently come out as lesbian, right before her marriage, breaking her 2 years engagement. She's a model, making her super pretty.

I have no clue how Christian got to reach them, but I'm glad he did. It was great to see most of the clique together. There was only Marcus left, but he died at a car accident five months ago. Marcus had a wife and a son. His son's about three now. I think his wife is still not over it, I had called her two months ago to check if they'd needed anything and she sounded so sad.

Our clique was basically, the American-accented group (we had to correct that because I wasn't American) that lived in the United Kingdom. Of course other Americans lived in the United Kingdom, but it felt like it was just us.

I head to them and hug each.

"We've missed you, bitch!" Oscar says, cheerful as always. I forgot to tell you, he swears almost all the time.

"Oh hell yeah, you did." I grin, so happy to bring back memories.

"All of the clique is now no longer in London." Hannah says, her eyes not giving clear signs of her feelings.

"I guess it was about time?" I say, not very confident.

"Probably." Oscar shrugs, taking a sip of whatever drink was in his hands.

"What is that shiny thing in your purse?" Hannah smirks, full of excitement.

What would be shiny in your bag Jessica?