My anti-smoking campaign.
Here's a really short story based almost entirely on something that happened to my brother.
He watched the woman count out her last seven coins.
She was a quarter short.
“Oh, shit. I know I have more money somewhere,” She muttered to herself. She was digging frantically through her purse. The cashier at the counter of the convenience store looked bored as she fiddled with the woman’s pack of cigarettes.
He waited patiently behind her. He heard a sigh from near the door. The woman’s two young children were waiting for their mother. They looked to be around six and eleven years of age.
He wondered if they would suffer like him.
It had been mere days since his mother had been let out of the hospital after having a tumor removed from her throat. It had been around a year since she had recovered from lung cancer.
One more tumor would most likely kill her.
She had smoked for years and years. He hadn’t thought too much of it when he was a boy. What child did? He only rolled his eyes at his mother’s constant need, and wrinkled his nose at the smell of her clothes. But he never thought anything more would arise from her habit. Certainly not any of the misery his family had been through so far.
There was something disturbing about seeing your mother hooked up to more machines than anyone could count, about watching her struggle to talk because her chin was sewed to her chest so she wouldn’t upset the operating area. There was something truly sickening about seeing a deadened look in your 12-year-old sister’s eyes, a look that said rather certainly that she had seen too much for so little a number of years.
He had wanted to protect them.
He had three younger sisters, and they were all carrying something extra on their backs. As was he. But he was their brother. He was supposed to watch over them.
The cigarettes had ruined it all.
Everything had been fine before they had their merry way with his mother. Everything had been going just perfectly until they had selected her for their latest torture.
The woman triumphantly arose with two dimes from her purse, and dove back in to search for a nickel.
The children watched their mother’s latest display of overt addiction. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. How ironic that parents would always try to hide cursing and violence from their children. They wouldn’t let them play a certain video game or watch an R-rated movie, but it was okay for them to view their parents chemical dependence that might one day kill them.
Ironic.
“Do you really need those?”
He had blurted it out before he thought about it. He wasn’t one to preach really, and he didn’t interfere with strangers’ lives.
But the children had been too much.
The woman turned around hesitantly, unsure if this stranger was speaking to her.
“What?” she asked.
He had come this far. “Do you really need those cigarettes?”
She stared.
“I mean, it’s just - spend the money on your kids. Spend the money on them, and then they won’t have to watch their mother waste away in a hospital bed.”
“Like me.”
His voice cracked on the final two words.
She looked at him for a long moment, turned back to the cashier, and spotted the take-a-penny tray. She grabbed five coins from it, handed them to the bored employee, grabbed her cigarettes, and beckoned to her children. The younger girl followed her mother obediently.
He met eyes with the older girl before she turned away and chased after her sister.
He watched the woman count out her last seven coins.
She was a quarter short.
“Oh, shit. I know I have more money somewhere,” She muttered to herself. She was digging frantically through her purse. The cashier at the counter of the convenience store looked bored as she fiddled with the woman’s pack of cigarettes.
He waited patiently behind her. He heard a sigh from near the door. The woman’s two young children were waiting for their mother. They looked to be around six and eleven years of age.
He wondered if they would suffer like him.
It had been mere days since his mother had been let out of the hospital after having a tumor removed from her throat. It had been around a year since she had recovered from lung cancer.
One more tumor would most likely kill her.
She had smoked for years and years. He hadn’t thought too much of it when he was a boy. What child did? He only rolled his eyes at his mother’s constant need, and wrinkled his nose at the smell of her clothes. But he never thought anything more would arise from her habit. Certainly not any of the misery his family had been through so far.
There was something disturbing about seeing your mother hooked up to more machines than anyone could count, about watching her struggle to talk because her chin was sewed to her chest so she wouldn’t upset the operating area. There was something truly sickening about seeing a deadened look in your 12-year-old sister’s eyes, a look that said rather certainly that she had seen too much for so little a number of years.
He had wanted to protect them.
He had three younger sisters, and they were all carrying something extra on their backs. As was he. But he was their brother. He was supposed to watch over them.
The cigarettes had ruined it all.
Everything had been fine before they had their merry way with his mother. Everything had been going just perfectly until they had selected her for their latest torture.
The woman triumphantly arose with two dimes from her purse, and dove back in to search for a nickel.
The children watched their mother’s latest display of overt addiction. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. How ironic that parents would always try to hide cursing and violence from their children. They wouldn’t let them play a certain video game or watch an R-rated movie, but it was okay for them to view their parents chemical dependence that might one day kill them.
Ironic.
“Do you really need those?”
He had blurted it out before he thought about it. He wasn’t one to preach really, and he didn’t interfere with strangers’ lives.
But the children had been too much.
The woman turned around hesitantly, unsure if this stranger was speaking to her.
“What?” she asked.
He had come this far. “Do you really need those cigarettes?”
She stared.
“I mean, it’s just - spend the money on your kids. Spend the money on them, and then they won’t have to watch their mother waste away in a hospital bed.”
“Like me.”
His voice cracked on the final two words.
She looked at him for a long moment, turned back to the cashier, and spotted the take-a-penny tray. She grabbed five coins from it, handed them to the bored employee, grabbed her cigarettes, and beckoned to her children. The younger girl followed her mother obediently.
He met eyes with the older girl before she turned away and chased after her sister.