Part 1: Acceptance
Victoria awoke, blinking, stretching and rubbing her eyes. She turned her head and
gazed at the clock. 7:30 a.m. Yep, right on schedule. Victoria had hardly ever
needed an alarm clock to wake her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d
needed one. Her nearly lifelong habit ensured her mind and body would wake her
at a more than decent hour without fail, regardless of how much or how little she
slept the night before.
She rolled over on her right side and grabbed her pack of Virginia Slims 120s from
the bedside table. She shook loose a cigarette and pulled it out of the pack with
her lips. She glanced inside. Four cigarettes left, not including the one she was
about smoke. That wouldn’t do. She’d easily finish the pack before noon and it was
the last pack from the carton she had bought earlier in the week. That was fine.
Sundays were her usual grocery shopping days, anyway.
She placed the pack back on the bedside table, grabbed her lighter and the
ashtray, and rolled over on her back again, cigarette firmly between her lips as she
carefully set the ashtray on the right near her waist. Victoria could taste the sweet,
unburned tobacco as she absent-mindedly pulled in air through the filter, adjusting
herself back into a comfortable position on the bed, head on her pillow.
She flicked the lighter to life, ready to enjoy what she always considered to be the
best, and certainly her favorite, cigarette of the day. She touched the flame to the
tip of the cigarette and pulled in her first drag. But when it came to her first morning
cigarette, however, one drag was never enough. No, the first cigarette, the first
intake of nicotine of the day, had to satisfy a craving that had been burgeoning for
several hours whilst she slept. Even on the rather infrequent occasions when her
cravings seemed to wake her up at odd hours of the night so she could smoke a
cigarette, the need for that first morning cigarette was no less intense. No, one
drag was never enough. She had to take two, three, even four, all as long as she
could reasonably make them.
So she took one drag, inhaled, then another, then another, and then one more.
She tasted the smooth smoke as it filled her mouth and shot down to her lungs,
savoring the flavor, the sensation and the satisfaction, the blood in her veins
surging with absolute glee. She exhaled, cigarette still between her lips as she
immediately took another drag, only one this time, and exhaled that one as well as
she sighed contentedly. Yes, this was what being a smoker was all about. As bad
as the cravings could sometimes be, satisfying them was always more than worth
it, and her first morning cigarette was practically orgasmic. God, she loved to
smoke.
This had been her morning routine for, well, most of her life. Unless she had
something pressing to do, she’d always enjoy her first cigarette of the day in bed,
taking advantage of the extra, elegant length of her preferred brand of Virginia
Slims 120s to keep the cigarette between her lips, removing it only to trim the ash
in the ashtray. She preferred it that way. It seemed to help satisfy the cravings, as
she tended to create a hazy cloud of her own smoke around her and would usually
get small residual drags of her cigarette as she breathed normally between drags.
Once that first cigarette was done, and it would only ever be done when it got right
down to the filter, she’d put it out, get out of bed, put something on, and walk down
the hallway into the kitchen to fix a pot of coffee. As soon as she had it brewing, it
would be time for her second morning cigarette. It wasn’t as needed as the first, of
course, but these days and with how long she had been smoking, the first cigarette
of the day only seemed to satisfy her initial craving about halfway. It was one of the
reasons she switched to 120s when she was in college. She noticed she always
needed to chainsmoke shorter length cigarettes, even the 100s she started with.
She still chainsmoked 120s more than a few times a day, but at least the extra
length did a better job of satiating her cravings with only one cigarette.
Today was a special day, too. It was her daughter Rachel’s eighteenth birthday. It
was bittersweet for Victoria because she knew it might be the last birthday they got
to celebrate together for at least a year or two. Rachel would be shipping off to
college in only a few months, and with a birthday that fell smack dab in the middle
of the spring semester, it wasn’t likely Rachel would be able to visit home to
celebrate it, assuming she’d even want to celebrate with anyone other than her
new college friends, and unless Vicky could take time off work, which was possible
but not guaranteed, she wouldn’t have the time to make the seven hour drive there
and back.
Vicky found herself pondering her daughter’s new status as a legal adult. She
remembered how excited she was when she first turned eighteen, but now at the
age of forty-four, she only saw how bizarre and random of an age it was to qualify
someone as legally an adult. Eighteen year olds were still high school students,
after all. For a while now she had wondered why they didn’t just bump up the legal
adult age to twenty-one. What sense did it make that a legal adult wasn’t allowed
to legally drink? From a maturity standpoint, there was little difference between
someone who was eighteen, seventeen, or even sixteen, but for whatever reason,
eighteen was the age at which you could fully enter the workforce, strike out on
your own, sign away your life to the military.
And smoke.
Vicky thought on that last part, tapping her cigarette over the ashtray, putting it
back between her lips and taking another long double drag, hands resting on her
stomach with fingers interlocked, smoking swirling around her. It was something
she’d thought about a lot, and not just recently. Despite Vicky being a rather heavy
smoker at a little over a pack a day, her daughter had never shown any interest in
it. That certainly wasn’t a bad thing. The dangers of smoking were more than well
known and Vicky certainly didn’t mind Rachel steering clear of those risks. Still,
there was something that always made her wonder. Rachel didn’t smoke, but nor
did she ever express any explicit distaste for it. She never really complained about
Vicky smoking, whether it was at the dinner table, in the car, at a restaurant, or
otherwise when Rachel was in very close proximity to Vicky while she was
smoking. Sure, she’d make an off-handed remark here and there, but it was almost
always in jest, accompanied by a wry smile. In fact, Vicky couldn’t recall Rachel
ever seriously complaining about her smoking, even when she was very young.
It was possible that Rachel had been smoking in secret, or at least smoked when
she was with her friends, but that was highly, highly unlikely. Vicky elected to make
it very clear years ago that she wouldn’t be upset if Rachel decided to start
smoking. She couldn’t have been more forward about it. It happened when Rachel
was in her early teenage years. Vicky went to pick her up from the movie theater
one night and when Vicky spotted her slightly off to the side of the building and
pulled up alongside the curb, she saw two of Rachel’s good friends, Kate and Tina,
smoking cigarettes. Rachel didn’t have one in her hand and both Kate and Tina
immediately blushed, wide-eyed, when Vicky saw them smoking. Vicky had a
freshly lit cigarette in her own hand, driver’s side window cracked slightly, and
simply smiled at Rachel’s friends and waved. She rolled down the passenger side
window all the way and leaned her head forward.
“What brand are you girls smoking?” She asked with a wide smile. Both the girls
looked at each other, wondering if they were in trouble and Vicky was toying with
them.
“Um…Marlboro Lights…” Kate said.
Vicky took a drag and exhaled. “Not bad,” she said, then held up her pack of
Virginia Slims. “But give these a try some day.”
Rachel had then hopped into the car and buckled up.
“So Kate and Tina smoke, eh?” Vicky had asked as they drove off.
“Yeah, I guess,” Rachel said.
“How long has that been going on?”
“I don’t know. Two or three months maybe.”
Vicky smiled and asked, “Have you started smoking?”
“No, mom!”
Vicky chuckled and said, “It’s okay if you have. You know how much I smoke. I
won’t mind. It’d be kind of cool to smoke cigarettes together, wouldn’t it?”
That didn’t seem to surprise Rachel as she rolled her eyes. “You would say that. I
wouldn’t hesitate to tell you. I just told Kate and Tina not to worry and that you
wouldn’t even be mad if I smoked, but seriously, I’ve never even tried a cigarette.
It’s just not for me.”
Vicky exhaled a stream of smoke through her nostrils, contemplating that moment.
She was admittedly proud of her daughter for not having given into the peer
pressure she surely got once some number of her friends had started smoking. At
the same time, however, Vicky couldn’t deny her own fond memories and the kind
of relationship she forged with her own mother when she had started smoking as a
teenager. Smoking, of course, was treated very differently back then. There was no
taboo surrounding it and, although the legal age to smoke was sixteen, no one
took it seriously. Parents would send their kids to the nearest store to buy packs or
cartons of cigarettes. No one said a word or batted an eye if a kid lit up a cigarette
in public. Even at her school, the student smoking lounge, ostensibly meant only
for students sixteen and older, was used by basically every student, regardless of
age, and no one cared enough to crack down on it.
Vicky’s own mother, in fact, actually seemed proud of her when Vicky expressed
an interest in smoking. Her mother was a very heavy smoker even for that era,
nearing three packs a day on some days. She still smoked, but at her age had
managed to cut down to about half of a pack…unless she was visiting with Vicky,
of course. But it was Vicky’s own experience with smoking when she was growing
up that made her want Rachel to know that she should be open with her about it.
When Vicky was only a teen, she and her mother went on a road trip to visit her
aunt. The drive was only a couple of hours, but as her mother tended to do, she
chainsmoked the whole way with all the windows rolled up, which was a common,
expected, and accepted thing back in those days. They were both in excellent
moods, singing and dancing to music on the radio, when her mom asked her to
hand her a cigarette from her pack.
Vicky did so and, as was tradition when her mom was driving, lit her mother’s
cigarette for her. Before putting the pack back in the cup holder, Vicky asked her
mom if she could try a cigarette. Her mother’s response was almost excited, a
broad, toothy smile on her face.
“Of course!”
Vicky had put the cigarette between her lips and worked the lighter. She was
familiar with this part of the process. A handful of times over the past couple of
months leading up to that moment, Vicky’s mother had asked her to light a
cigarette for her. The first time, Vicky had assumed that meant the usual thing of
lighting the cigarette while it was between her mother’s lips. Instead, with her
mom’s hands being busy while doing something like dishes or gardening, she told
her how to light the cigarette with the first drag, after which point Vicky would put it
between her lips and that would be that.
It was after having taken a non-inhaled drag of a cigarette that Vicky had grown
curious to actually try a full one. In her formative years, she basically assumed
she’d become a smoker one day. She loved the aroma and her mother clearly
enjoyed it so much. Once she found that she enjoyed the taste, too, the final days
of Vicky the Nonsmoker fast approached. Just like Rachel, she also knew her
mother would have no issue with Vicky taking up smoking. Again, it was much
more common back then for kids and younger teenagers to take it up, and her
mother’s obvious excitement at Vicky’s first expression of interest was entirely
unsurprising. She actually had a very vague, very fuzzy memory back when she
was much, much too young to be smoking – even back then – and asking her
mom if she could try a cigarette. She could remember her mom laughing and
saying “You’re too young right now, darling, but trust me, once you’re just a little bit
older, I’ll be more than happy to show you how to smoke.”
After she lit the cigarette, her mother explained how to inhale. Vicky coughed a bit,
of course, but managed to stifle the coughs pretty easily, which was likely a result
of being around her mother’s second-hand smoke for her entire life. She even
managed to finish the full cigarette without getting sick, though she did feel
considerably dizzy. Vicky had absolutely loved smoking from the very beginning
and never looked back after that moment. Her habit picked up rapidly from there,
her mother’s rather excessive smoking habit admittedly distorting what Vicky
perceived as an average amount to smoke. She quickly became the heaviest
smoker amongst her friends and within maybe two or three months, averaged
nearly a pack a day. She and her mother bonded more than ever before after that
point and still bonded over cigarettes whenever they visited each other.
Vicky tapped her cigarette over the ashtray again, putting it between her lips and
taking a double drag, exhaling through her nose. It was that nostalgia that Vicky
now kind of wished she had with her own daughter. Vicky had raised her on her
own, having become pregnant during college, Vicky’s father nothing but a
deadbeat stoner dropout. Everything had worked out well, though. Vicky had
somehow managed to quit smoking while she was pregnant – the toughest thing
she’d ever done by far – and couldn’t wait for that first cigarette once she had
given birth. She could remember being wheeled out of the hospital with her mom
alongside her, practically salivating in anticipation of her first cigarette in almost a
year. Her mom looked so amused, empathetic since she’d done the same thing
when she was pregnant with Vicky. Vicky told her, in all seriousness, that she
would never quit again. Not having a cigarette between her fingers or lips…it felt
wrong, like she was missing a part of herself.
She took a year off her studies, then finished her degree and earned a nice living
in real estate. They weren’t wealthy, but they enjoyed a very comfortable life.
They’d always gotten along and had a healthy relationship, but even so, Vicky
couldn’t help but wonder how much closer they’d be if they had bonded over
cigarettes the way Vicky had with her mom. Even Vicky’s mother had more than
once noted her surprise that Rachel had not taken up smoking. Every woman in
the family smoked, and it seemed to stop at Rachel. Vicky’s mom agreed it was, to
be fair, a good thing, but just like Vicky, her mom couldn’t help but want Rachel to
join them and chat over coffee and cigarettes.
Victoria exhaled the last drag of her cigarette, so close to the filter that it was about
to singe her fingers, and stubbed it out in the ashtray. She placed the ashtray on
the bedside table, pushed the covers aside and swung her legs off the bed, sitting
up and stretching her arms. She looked up at the ceiling as she rolled her neck
and smiled. Spring was just around the corner and the pleasant warm weather was
coming in spurts, but nights still brought a chill. As such, Vicky kept the AC off and,
at least for her bedroom, kept the heat off, too. She tended to get hot under the
bedcovers and, with no real air circulation, her room basically looked like one large
cloud of cigarette smoke. That was fine with her. She’d always loved the smell of
cigarettes, even before she ever tried her first one. Whereas most people these
days, even other smokers, did their best to abate the aroma of cigarettes, Vicky
embraced it.
She walked into her closet and threw on a robe and stepped into her slippers. She
grabbed her pack of cigarettes, the lighter, and stuffed them into a pocket. She
opened the door into the hallway, wisps of smoke creeping out from her bedroom.
She looked down the hall towards Rachel’s room and walked up to the door. She
stood and listened. She didn’t expect her to be awake so early on a Sunday. She
was a teenager, after all, but on the off chance she was awake, Vicky wanted to
make the most out of Rachel’s birthday. Rachel had gone out and celebrated with
her friends the night before. Vicky smiled. She wouldn’t be surprised if Rachel was
sleeping off a mild hangover.
She turned and walked the opposite direction down the hallway, rounded a corner
and stepped into the kitchen, and so began the second phase of her morning
routine as she prepared a pot of coffee. As soon as it was brewing, she pulled out
another cigarette – only three left, she noted – and lit up, leaning against the
counter, drifting away in thought as cigarette smoke drifted around her.
Vicky was sort of bothered by herself, and had been for at least the last two or
three years as her daughter grew older and still showed no interest in smoking.
Vicky knew she should be happy about that – thrilled, even, given how much Vicky
herself smoked and how much Rachel had been exposed to it for her entire life –
and, well, she was happy about it. But no matter what, Vicky just couldn’t stop
thinking about how much better their already positive relationship would be if
Rachel smoked at least sometimes. Vicky sometimes found herself wishing Rachel
would at least show an interest and ask Vicky if she could try a cigarette as Vicky
had done with her mom so Vicky could teach her and Rachel could find out if she
liked smoking at all.
Vicky felt a sudden realization come over her as she exhaled a tight stream of
smoke towards the ceiling. Maybe that was it. It had to be. What kept irking at her
mind wasn’t necessarily that she sort of half-wished her daughter was a smoker.
Okay, well, maybe that was part of it. But what really stirred her thoughts was the
fact that Rachel had never even tried a cigarette. It was the idea that Rachel didn’t
even know if she would like it and the possibility that, while at college, Rachel
would try her first cigarette and come home on her first trip back as a smoker,
leaving Vicky dejected that her daughter hadn’t discovered her enjoyment of
smoking until she had moved out, unintentionally robbing them both of something
to bond over through her formative years.
And although it was possible Rachel had at least tried a cigarette before since their
conversation outside the movie theater, Vicky very much doubted that, too. During
that same conversation, after Rachel insisted she hadn’t even tried it, Vicky said,
“Okay, okay, I believe you. But if you decide you do want to try it one day, come to
me, okay? I’ll show you how to do it the right way.”
“Gah, mom,” Rachel scoffed with grin. “If I promise to do that, will you drop this
whole thing?”
“Sure,” Vicky said, smiling. “I’m just saying, if you decide you want to try it, I want
to make sure you don’t ruin the experience for yourself. Plus, well…Tina and Kate
back there don’t exactly look like they know what they’re doing.”
They had both laughed. “Whatever, mom. I promise if I decide I want to try a
cigarette, I’ll let you teach me,” Rachel replied in a sarcastic tone. “God, most
people would think it’s crazy you’re making that offer.”
Vicky’s smile widened. “Bet your friends would be pretty jealous though, right?”
Rachel had chuckled, shaking her head. “Yep.” Rachel then said something that
had given Vicky a brief sense of hope that maybe something would come of this.
“Would I have to smoke one of your super long cigarettes, though?” She asked,
staring and smiling at Vicky. Vicky smiled back, holding up her Virginia Slim 120 in
front of her, which was about half-smoked.
“I suppose,” Vicky answered, grinning and taking a drag. “Of course, if you wanted
me to buy you a pack of something else, I could do that, I guess. But if it’s your first
cigarette, it’s not like it would matter what brand you try.”
Rachel smiled and shook her head. “We could do that on the way home, you
know,” Vicky offered. “I wouldn’t mind buying you a pack of something else if you’d
rather start with a different brand.”
“Mom, I told you, I’m not interested.” Rachel’s tone was frustrated at first, but then
softened as she added, “Thanks, though.”
Presently, Vicky stared out the window above the sink, cigarette propped up in her
right hand, smoke slowly escaping her nostrils as she looked past her own
reflection. Despite her age and her practically lifelong smoking habit, she looked
striking, even fresh out of bed. Her long blonde hair that usually came down to her
shoulders was currently pulled back in a messy bun behind her head. She had
bright green eyes, high cheekbones, thin nose, decent breasts, and a slender
figure. A couple of wrinkles blemished her face – unavoidable at her age given her
smoking habit, she supposed – but other than that, she was blessed with a
youthful face, and Rachel was her spitting image. Vicky had no shortage of suitors
and neither did Rachel have any shortage of high school boys fawning for her
affection.
She remembered thinking that surely Rachel would take her up on the offer
eventually. Tina and Kate hadn’t been her absolute best friends, but they were all
pretty close, and Vicky saw for herself how many more of Rachel’s friends began
to smoke over the ensuing years. She never regretted the offer, never felt bad
about it. She didn’t have any intention of explicitly encouraging her daughter to
smoke, but if Rachel decided she wanted to smoke or at least try it on her own
accord, Vicky wanted her to do it openly, with her approval, and in front of her. In
reality, she was now realizing that although she never wanted to encourage her
daughter to smoke, all these years a part of her had been hoping she’d want to
pick up smoking by her own volition.
Vicky did feel a little guilty about that. What kind of mother would hope her
daughter would start smoking? Especially these days, a sane parent would hope
against hope their kid would never take up smoking, even if the parent was a
smoker. Vicky sighed as she exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. She had a different
relationship with smoking, she knew, even compared to smokers her age who had
been smoking for about as long as she had. It helped shape who she is. Smoking
was a firm part of her identity, a key part of her. Cigarettes were an extension of
herself. Everyone who had ever known her knew her as a smoker. For better or
worse, it was one of her defining traits. She was fine with it – proud of it, even. It
just made her feel conflicted when it came to her daughter.
She put her cigarette out in the ashtray and began the third phase of her morning
routine. Breakfast. It was Rachel’s birthday, so she’d fix her favorite: bacon,
scrambled eggs, blueberry pancakes. She planned on taking her on a shopping
spree in the afternoon after a run to the grocery store and then they’d go to their
favorite place for dinner that evening.
Just a few minutes before she was done fixing breakfast, Rachel walked in
dressed in her pajamas, hair disheveled, rubbing her eyes. Vicky smiled and
looked at the clock on the microwave. 8:50 a.m. Wow. That was early for her on a
weekend.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Vicky said as Rachel took a seat at the kitchen table
and yawned. “Surprised to see you up so early.”
“Couldn’t go back to sleep,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. Gosh,
she looked so much like Vicky when she was that age. It was uncanny.
“Hungover?”
“Psh, no,” Rachel said. “Almost wish I was. Didn’t drink hardly at all. Tina and Joan
got into a shouting match, like, the whole night and it kind of killed the mood.”
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, dear.”
Vicky fixed two plates for them and sat down at the table across from her. Rachel
smiled when she noticed her favorite breakfast awaiting her.
“It’s alright,” she said. “I spent a lot of time with Matthew.”
“Oh, do tell!” Vicky said. “Did you two…kiss?”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “No, mom. We’ve only been talking for, like, a few days.
But we did spend the whole evening talking to each other. I like him. It just sucks
we’ll be moving to college soon.”
“Well, in any case, happy birthday!” Vicky said. “The big eighteen!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rachel said, smiling and shaking her head. “I’m an adult, big
whoop.”
“So what’s the first thing Adult Rachel is going to do?” Vicky asked.
“Oh, for sure go buy a bunch of porn and go to the strip clubs.”
They both laughed. “Maybe you’ll start smoking, too,” Vicky said. The words
crossed her mind as an honest joke before she spoke them, but after they came
out of her mouth, she realized the words were hopeful.
Rachel smirked and shrugged. “Maybe,” she said, though she was clearly being
sarcastic.
Finished with her breakfast, Vicky put her silverware down, reached for her
cigarettes and pulled one out. Two left. She lit up and exhaled the first drag as she
talked.
“So you really never tried it after all these years?” She asked.
“Nope,” Rachel answered.
“Wow,” Vicky said.
Rachel glared at her. “Do you, like, want me to smoke or something, mom?”
Rachel was smiling, but the question got at the heart of something that had been
on her mind for so long and Vicky couldn’t just brush it off with another joke or
sarcastic remark.
“Well…no,” she said. “I’m proud of you for not starting. But…well, you know how I
started.”
“Yeah, both you and grandma have told me, like, a million times.”
“Right. Well, your grandma and I bonded over it. I suppose I’ve always just wanted
to share that experience with you.”
“Mom, we get along great.”
“I know, I know,” Vicky sighed as she exhaled, the smoke wafting over to Rachel
as she continued eating. She always appreciated that her daughter never
complained, even when Vicky was smoking at the table while Rachel ate. “It’s just,
ah, it’s hard to explain, I guess.”
Rachel swallowed her food and pushed her plate aside, a little over half of her
meal eaten. She had never been much of a breakfast person, but she couldn’t
resist her favorite breakfast foods.
“Alright,” she said, wiping her lips with a napkin. “Why not? Give me a cigarette.”
Vicky raised her eyebrows in honest surprise. “Wait, really?” She said, her smile
shifting.
“Yeah. Like I said, why not?”
Vicky felt both excited and guilty. “Rachel, hon, you’re sure? You don’t have to if
you don’t want to. I’m not encouraging…”
“I’m eighteen mom,” Rachel said with a reassuring smile. “You told me that if I ever
wanted to try a cigarette to come to you, right? Well, here I am.”
Vicky felt an undeniable surge of happiness as she beamed a smile at her
daughter. She grabbed her pack and pulled out a cigarette. One left.
“Okay then,” she said, handing Rachel the cigarette. Rachel seemed to admire it
for a moment. “First, just put it between your lips and pull some air through it.”
Rachel did so and raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That actually tastes…sweet.”
Vicky nodded. “Sure does, but just so you know, it isn’t exactly going to taste like
that once you light it, okay? Which brings me to my next important point: you may
not like taste when you smoke your first cigarette. For a lot of people, smoking is
an acquired taste.”
“Except you,” Rachel said, smirking.
“Right,” Vicky said with a laugh. “Okay, so when I bring the lighter to the tip of your
cigarette, pull on it like it’s a straw. Ready?”
Rachel nodded, holding the cigarette in front of her lips. Vicky flicked the lighter
and leaned forward as Rachel did so as well. The flame touched the tip of the
cigarette and finally, at long last, Vicky’s daughter took her first drag of a cigarette.
Rachel puffed out the smoke in a small cloud and scrunched her brow, looking at
the cigarette. Vicky expected her to make a disgusted face, but no such look
came.
“So…what do you think?” Vicky asked a little apprehensively.
“It’s…well, wow…it’s not bad, actually.”
Vicky had to try hard to contain her excitement. Of course her daughter would
actually enjoy her first ever cigarette. Why should she be surprised?”
“Really?”
Rachel took another small, almost timid drag and puffed out the smoke.
“Yeah. I mean, it isn’t, like, amazing, but…yeah, not bad at all.”
Vicky tried to smile as casually as she could, but her excitement was undeniable.
“Alright, well now for the next and final step. After you’ve pulled the smoke into
your mouth, breath in with your chest and inhale, then blow it out. Make sure you
only take a small drag, now. You’re going to cough, so don’t overdo it.”
Rachel took a tiny drag, inhaled and immediately coughed the smoke back up,
smiling bashfully and covering her mouth with her free hand. She chuckled as she
gathered herself.
“You get used to it,” Vicky assured her.
Although Vicky was about to tell her to take a moment, Rachel went ahead and
took another drag and inhaled. She only coughed twice – small coughs – and
exhaled the rest of the smoke. Vicky’s smile widened.
“I think inhaling actually makes the smoke taste different?”
“Yeah, it does,” Vicky said. “You can taste the different nuances. If you really want
to get the most out of the taste, exhale through your nostrils like so.”
Vicky took a drag of her cigarette, only about a quarter of it left, and exhaled
through her nose. Rachel followed suit and, to Vicky’s surprise, didn’t even have to
try to suppress a cough this time. The drag was still quite small and, of course,
Rachel had spent her whole life around Vicky’s second-hand smoke, but to see her
adapt so quickly to smoking was wonderful. There was no point in denying it
anymore. Vicky was proud of her daughter.
“Alright,” Rachel said, clearing her throat a few times and looking at the cigarette
between her fingers. “I suppose I can see why people enjoy this.”
Vicky’s heart immediately fluttered. They were the first words she’d ever heard her
daughter speak to suggest she was on the path to becoming a smoker. Vicky no
longer felt any tinge of guilt. It was pointless. She reveled in the moment.
Trying to remain as cool and casual as possible, Vicky said, “Really?”
“Yeah. I think I actually like the taste and, well…”
Rachel took another drag. It was still small, but the longest one yet, and exhaled.
She let out only a single, small cough once she finished exhaling. She looked very
much like an amateur, of course, but already Vicky could see Rachel
subconsciously emulating her own smoking style.
“It feels good.”
Vicky took a drag of her cigarette and exhaled. “So you like it, then?”
Rachel smiled bashfully. “I suppose so.” She held out the cigarette in front of her,
looking at it again. “But, gosh mom, how can you smoke an entire one of these
things? None of my friends smoke these long cigarettes.”
“They’re called 120s, dear,” Vicky answered. “And it’s no trouble smoking an entire
one once you’re used to it. I’m sure all of your friends who smoke would have no
issue.”
Rachel shook her head. “Well, I’m feeling pretty dizzy…”
“Ah, yeah, that’s the nicotine buzz,” Vicky said. “No need to get sick. Just stub it
out gently in the ashtray and smoke the rest of it in a little bit.”
Rachel shot her mom a curious look. Vicky smirked. “Your grandmother always
told me never to waste a cigarette. Those things cost money.”
Rachel laughed. “Fair enough.”
“So…” Vicky said hesitantly, “Think you’ll want to try another one once you’re done
with that one?”
“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “I guess.”
“Well, I need to run to the grocery store,” Vicky said, putting out her cigarette and
standing up. “Need to get some food for the week and another carton of cigarettes.
If you want, I could get you shorter cigarettes. Same brand, just not as long. Or I
could get you another brand entirely.”
“That’s fine, mom,” Rachel said, chuckling. “I’ll just stick with yours for now. I’m
going to take a shower.”
Vicky went back to her bedroom, brushed her hair, put on a bit of make up, and got
dressed for the day. It was impossible for her not to smile. She knew not to get
ahead of herself. It wasn’t a sure thing that Rachel would take up smoking
completely just yet, but the fact that she actually enjoyed her very first cigarette
was promising, and she was certainly open to the idea of smoking again. Few
other things outside of Rachel’s looks had demonstrated that she was very much
Vicky’s daughter than this. Most other smokers Vicky knew admitted it took them
some time before they enjoyed smoking. But Rachel had Vicky’s blood in her
veins. Smoking came natural.
Vicky got in her car, pulled out of the driveway, lit a cigarette and drove to the
nearest grocery store just a few minutes away. She spent some time getting
essentials, then went to the checkout aisle with the cigarette display case.
“Well hello there,” the elderly woman said. “The usual today, right?” She smiled
and grabbed a carton of Virginia Slims 120s without waiting for Vicky’s response.
Vicky loaded the groceries into her car, hopped in the driver’s seat, took a pack out
of the carton, tore off the cellophane, grabbed a cigarette and lit it, taking the time
to savor the first cigarette from a freshly opened pack.
When she got home and walked in the door, her perpetual smile only grew wider
when she saw Rachel standing near the kitchen table, exhaling a drag from the
half-smoked cigarette. Judging by the length, she must’ve just lit it before Vicky
walked in.
“Well, look at you,” Vicky teased, placing the groceries on the kitchen counter.
“Damn, I was hoping to finish it before you got back,” Rachel said.
Vicky dug her pack of cigarettes out of her purse and lit one, studying Rachel.
“Smoking is suppose to be a relaxing experience, dear,” Vicky said. “You’re holding
the cigarette the very tips of your fingers. That makes it look like you’re afraid the
cigarette is going to bite you or something. Here, hold it just below the first set of
joints on your fingers.”
Vicky held the cigarette forward as she approached Rachel. Rachel used her free
hand to slide the cigarette lower between her fingers, then put it to her lips for
another drag. There wasn’t even a hint of a cough this time as she exhaled. Once
again, Vicky felt an undeniable sense of pride.
“And you’re basically putting just touching the cigarette to your lips, sweetie,” Vicky
added. “Again, it’s not going to bite. Put it between your lips like this so that if you
let go with your fingers, it stays between your lips.”
Vicky dangled the cigarette to demonstrate and Rachel did as instructed, letting it
rest between her lips for only a moment. She quickly blinked her eyes several
times, took the cigarette between her fingers and rubbed at her eyes.
“Ah, how do you do that without getting smoke in your eyes?” she asked.
“Smoking hands free is more of a, um, let’s say ‘advanced’ technique,” Rachel
chuckled. “It’s easier to do with these longer cigarettes, though. Don’t worry, you’ll
get there soon enough.”
Vicky immediately realized she was speaking as though it was a foregone
conclusion that Rachel was going to be a full-fledged smoker. Although she
thought again not to get ahead of herself, Rachel had yet to say anything to the
contrary or temper Vicky’s expectations.
Rachel took another drag and exhaled through her nostrils. She still looked rather
inexperienced, but Vicky had to consciously avoid gawking at just how much her
daughter looked like a smoker already. Even when she saw Rachel’s friends, Tina
and Kate, smoking all those years ago, they very much looked like beginners, and
they had apparently been smoking for two or three months at that point. Yet here
Rachel was, only finishing her very first cigarette, and there was no denying that
she looked natural with a cigarette. Yes, Rachel was absolutely her mother’s
daughter. A part of Vicky wished her mom were present to see this. No matter. She
couldn’t wait to see her mom’s reaction when she first saw Rachel light up, and
unless something changed, that would happen in just over a month.
Rachel took one last drag of the cigarette, exhaled and held it up to Vicky. “Does
that qualify as finishing the cigarette?” She asked with a sarcastic smirk.
Vicky pretended to study the cigarette. Indeed, there were only about two or three
drags left before it would be at the filter. For Vicky, she would take those last drags,
but for a new smoker-in-the-making like Rachel, it was more than enough,
especially given the length of the 120s.
“Yep,” Vicky said, smiling and exhaling a drag of her own cigarette. “Well done,”
she teased.
Rachel snorted and shook her head as she put out the cigarette in the ashtray.
Vicky leaned against the counter, cigarette held in her right hand, positioned near
her cheek. “So, just out of curiosity, I want to ask again: do you think you’ll want to
smoke again?”
Rachel averted her eyes, sighed deeply and paused, apparently giving something
some very serious thought. Vicky took a double drag of her cigarette and waited
for a response. A part of her grew nervous. Was her daughter about to tell her that,
despite enjoying her first cigarette, she wasn’t interested in becoming a smoker?
Once more, the internal conflict in Vicky arose. It would be a good thing if she said
that, of course. There was no denying it. It could only be construed as a positive
thing if Rachel tried a cigarette, liked it, but had the willpower to choose not to go
any further. But there was also no denying that Vicky would be disappointed.
“I was thinking about how to tell you this while I was in the shower…” Rachel said.
“Oh no,” was all Vicky could think. She remained outwardly calm, but she felt her
heart sink just a bit.
“Look…the reason I never smoked…okay, so ever since some of my friends
started smoking in high school, some of them asked why I didn’t smoke. Especially
after that night at the movie theater when you saw Tina and Kate smoking and
were totally cool with it, they were like, ‘why don’t you smoke? Clearly your mom
wouldn’t mind.’ I always tried to tell them what most people say: it’s gross, it’s
unhealthy, the usual stuff, right?”
Rachel scratched at her chin. Vicky took the last drag of her cigarette and put it
out. She reached for her pack. Her nerves were going hard enough that she
needed to chainsmoke, but she paused as Rachel continued, holding the pack in
her hand and the lighter in the other.
“But, like…it wasn’t true. I never thought smoking was gross or whatever. And I’ve
actually always liked the smell, which I guess is good because how would I ever
stand being around you otherwise?” Mother and daughter laughed together at that
remark and all the truth it contained.
Rachel glanced at the ashtray and looked back up at Vicky. “The truth is, I never
tried smoking because, honestly, I was afraid I would like it.”
Vicky had pulled a cigarette out of the pack but paused again, furrowing her brow.
“What? What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean, mom?” Her tone was exasperated, but she still wore a
soft smile on her face. “For my whole life, I’ve watched you and grandma smoke.
I’ve seen how much both of you love it. I knew I liked the smell. And, okay, do you
remember three or four summers ago when grandma came in town to visit and you
had to go into work one day so it was grandma and I at the house?”
Vicky finally lit her cigarette and nodded as she exhaled. “I do.”
“Okay, well, at some point that day, grandma asked me if I had tried smoking yet. I
told her I hadn’t and that I probably wouldn’t like it. She actually laughed, and you
know what she said? She said, ‘Oh, if you ever try it, you’ll like it. I know you will.’
She said it like she knew me better than I knew myself. And the thing is, I knew
she was right. I just didn’t want to admit it.”
Rachel paused again, eyes wide as though she had just been struck by some
shocking realization. “Oh god,” she said. “I think…um…can I have a cigarette?”
Vicky smiled softly and extended the pack to her daughter. Rachel pulled out a
cigarette and put it between her lips as Vicky lit it for her. Her first drag was still
pretty small, but she inhaled and exhaled without issue. She wasn’t having a
craving, of course, but what she was telling Vicky was clearly bringing up a lot of
emotions and Rachel knew from a lifetime of watching Vicky that cigarettes had a
calming effect. Vicky was distracted for a moment. Again, a cigarette just looked so
natural on Rachel, especially the 120s. Already she seemed to have naturally
taken Vicky’s advice from earlier without even realizing it. Every few moments,
Rachel looked like a perfectly seasoned smoker, handling the long, all white with
cigarette with expertise, as though it were a part of her.
“Honestly, mom, I came so close so many times to asking you to teach me how to
smoke. You have no idea how many times when we were in this kitchen, or in the
living room, or in the car, how close it was to the tip of my tongue. But I always
forced it back down.”
Rachel’s voice quivered ever so slightly, just enough for a mother to notice. She
wasn’t coming to tears, but clearly this was something she’d kept suppressed for a
long time. “It’s okay, sweetie,” Vicky said soothingly. “It’s okay. Here, take a drag of
your cigarette.”
Rachel followed Vicky’s lead as she brought the long white cigarette to her lips and
took what was easily her longest drag yet, exhaling slowly as if to calm herself.
Though she had to clear her throat a bit once she finished exhaling, she still
showed no signs of needing to cough.
“So yeah, I always knew that if I ever tried a cigarette, I’d like it, and probably like it
too much. Like, I’d like it too much not to go all in. But I also knew that it was totally
inevitable I’d smoke eventually. How could I not?”
Rachel took another drag of her cigarette, this one just as long as the previous,
and exhaled as she smiled. “If I’m being completely honest, I almost tried it behind
your back,” she said.
“Oh yeah?” Vicky said, exhaling a drag and playfully narrowing her eyes.
“Yeah. It was a couple of years ago. One night, I came out of my room to get
something to drink. I noticed your bedroom door was closed and the only lights
that were on in the kitchen were dimmed. Then I saw a full, unlit cigarette sitting in
the ashtray and a lighter next to it. I figured you had gone to bed. Gosh, I must’ve
stood there for a full minute debating whether or not to smoke that cigarette, but
then I heard your bedroom door open and you came from down the hall.”
Vicky laughed. She couldn’t at all recall that specific evening since nothing about it
would’ve stood out to her. “Well, I’m glad you kept your promise about coming to
me instead of doing it behind my back.”
Rachel took another drag, exhaled, then shook her head, blinking her eyes a few
times. Vicky smiled. “It’s okay, dear. Just like your first one, gently stub it out in the
ashtray and smoke the rest of it when you feel ready.”
Rachel looked at the ashtray and seemed to consider her options.
“No,” she said, almost defiantly, “No, I think I’ll smoke the whole thing.”
Another surge of pride coursed through Vicky as she raised her eyebrows. It
wasn’t until that moment that she realized Rachel was more than halfway through
the cigarette already. Vicky was on her last drag, but she was surprised Rachel
had already managed to smoke that much of a 120 without feeling woozy. Then
again, she knew she had no real reason to be surprised.
“You asked me, mom, if I’d want to try smoking again,” she said, taking a drag and
exhaling up towards the ceiling with a smooth, tight stream of smoke. It was
another snapshot of Rachel the Seasoned Smoker. “Obviously, the answer is yes.
It was always going to be yes. I put it off for as long as I could, but just as I
expected, just as grandma apparently knew, I like it.”
Rachel held out the cigarette in front of her, seeming to admire it. “I mean…I guess
I love it.”
Vicky smiled as she put out her cigarette and reached for another. Frustratingly,
the inner conflict reared its ugly head again. She was proud of her daughter, yet
felt guilty all the same.
“Honey,” she said as she lit another cigarette. “Look, you know you don’t have to
smoke as much as your grandma and I do. Heck, you don’t have to smoke at all. I
don’t want you to smoke just because you feel like its inevitable or something.”
Rachel took one last drag of her cigarette and stubbed it out. Vicky studied it for a
brief moment. There were easily four or five drags left, maybe even six, but that
was fine. Rachel had smoked almost an entire 120 in only her second experience
with cigarettes.
“It’s my choice,” she said, her voice firm. “I want to smoke. I’ve always wanted to
smoke! I have no idea how I made it this long without smoking, and now, I don’t
even know why I put so much effort into trying.”
She looked up and met Vicky’s eyes. “Just…thank you for not pressuring me or
whatever,” Rachel said. “I always thought you did the best thing a parent could do.
You told me not to hesitate in coming to you first if I ever wanted to try a cigarette.
You made me feel secure about it. You made it so that I didn’t feel stupid or guilty
for thinking that maybe I’d like to smoke. All this time, I knew it would be my
decision to make. You never said anything about me smoking after that night
outside the movie theater.”
Rachel took a deep breath and sighed as Vicky took an equally deep inhale of
smoke and exhaled. She could feel tears of pride welling in her eyes, but she tried
to hold them back.
“But, all that said,” Rachel said, “I’ve made my choice.”
Vicky smiled broadly, walked around the kitchen counter and pulled a fresh pack of
Virginia Slims 120s out of the carton. She then opened a drawer and pushed some
things around until she found a lighter. She flicked it a few times to make sure it
worked. She walked back around and approached Rachel, holding the pack and
the lighter towards her.
“For you,” Vicky said, her smile somehow growing wider. “Happy birthday,
sweetie.”
They embraced each other in a tight hug, both lightly shedding loving tears. Vicky
wasn’t sure who was holding who tighter, but she was fully aware that on just her
daughter’s first day of being a smoker, they’d already shared one of those
wholesome mother-daughter moments only a mother and daughter who both
smoked could have. Rachel seemed content to keep hugging Vicky, so Vicky put
her cigarette to her lips and took a drag, exhaling as she squeezed her daughter
tighter.
Finally, they both let go. Vicky held her daughter by the shoulders, cigarette in the
fingers of her right hand, smoke curling up near Rachel’s face as she blushed at
the obvious pride in Vicky’s eyes.
“I’m so proud of you,” Vicky said as she stepped back, took a triple drag and
exhaled.
Rachel smiled and rolled her eyes. “Thanks, mom,” she said, tearing the
cellophane off the pack and pulling out a fresh cigarette. There was something so
satisfying about seeing her daughter with her own pack of cigarettes and a lighter
in her hand.
Vicky was beaming. “You sure you want to smoke another one so soon, sweetie?”
She asked. “I’m impressed you basically smoked a whole one a few minutes ago,
but another cigarette so soon might be a little much.”
“I’ll be fine,” Rachel insisted, fumbling with the lighter a bit before finally getting it to
work and lighting her cigarette. “I’m your daughter, aren’t I? Smoking is in my
DNA.”
“Yes you are,” Vicky said, grinning as she exhaled. “And there’s still a lot left for me
to teach you, too!”
Rachel took a small drag and exhaled. She smiled, held up the cigarette, and
shrugged. “Well, I’m ready to learn.”
by A Smoker