Page 28 of The Fates We Tame
We talk a little more about Mom’s treatment. What it will take. Her options.
And I tell her about Sophia. What I know, at least. Do I oversell it a little? Maybe. But I feel like it’s the little piece of happiness Mom is looking for. And when they finally leave, I’m exhausted and desperate for a cigarette.
How can it be fair that my mom has cancer when I’ve lost the last decade of memories with her? What are the chances I won’t be able to make any more with her? The thought pierces my heart and strips me bare.
I take the cookies to my room and pick up my packet and lighter.
I’m almost at the rear exit when I hear a voice behind me.
“Trying to escape?” Sophia asks.
The sight of her eases the tight band around my chest. “No. Because I’m a grown-up who does whatever the fuck he wants.”
She cocks her head to one side. “Looks like sneaking to me.”
“I need a cigarette. I’m going outside to smoke one. Coming?”
She nods gleefully. “Yes.”
I’m not sure what makes me take her hand and lead her through the corridors, out of a rear exit I found my second week here, and to my secret smoking spot. But it’s a comfort to the turmoil I feel in my gut.
“Can I try one?” she asks as I tip one out of the packet and light it.
“No.”
She looks up at me. “Why the hell not?”
“Because they’re bad for you.”
“Perhaps I already smoked. For all you know, I might have one of those superlong cigarette holders and smoke while drinking brandy.”
“Happy to give you different experiences, Sparrow, but wrecking your lungs is not one of them.” The gravel of the path crunches beneath our feet as we walk.
“Why do you smoke then? I thought you were a medic.”
I shrug. “Just always been something I’ve done.”
She tucks her hands in the sleeves of her sweater, then folds her arms across her chest. It’s cold, even by early-November standards.
“I think you should stop,” she says.
“I think you don’t get a say in what I do.”
“Then I thinkyoudon’t get a say in whatIdo, and you should just hand one over.” The way she challenges me makes me think of Mom, and something snaps in my chest.
We reach my spot. Before breakfast, Irv had whispered that he’d found two outdoors chairs and put them just in front of the screens that hide the dumpsters near the parking lot. Guess I owe him some more cookies.
When we sit, Sophia puts out her hand. “At least let me take a drag. I saw a movie the other night, and it sort of suggested that smoking behind the school was a rebellious thing to do. I feel like smoking behind the brain-trauma rehab has the same vibe.”
I can’t help but laugh and hand her my cigarette.
“Any tips before I do this?” she asks.
“Fuck knows. Maybe suck on it but don’t inhale first. See if you like the taste in your mouth. Then inhale second. It’s gonna burn either way because these are not starter cigarettes.”
“Okay. No inhale. Then inhale.” She takes a couple of deep breaths. Tentatively, she places the cigarette to her lips andpurses her lips around it. Her cheeks hollow, and then she moves the cigarette away, holding her breath for a second, before she blows smoke into the air.
“You’re cute,” I say as I watch her.
