The Last Drag
Seeing through the smoke
Bebe’s hand shook as she stared at the glowing tip of the cigarette Brad had just handed her. They were the last smokers in the office. The last to stand in the cold of winter and heat of summer in the parking lot outside of their no-smoking place of employment.
“Jesus,” she said, unable to bring the stick of poison to mouth, even as she craved the feel of its smoke sliding down her windpipe. Even as she desperately sought the calming hit its noxious mix of chemicals provided. “What are we doing, Brad? They just buried Cliff this morning. This morning, for God’s sake.”
Brad held out his hand, his fingers twitching for the shared cigarette. Bebe handed it back to him without taking a drag.
“I’m not quitting,” Brad said, defiant, even in the face of their friend’s death at thirty-four from a relentless cancer that had ravaged his body, killing him in less than a year.
Bebe watched the ash tip lengthen as Brad took a long draw on the cigarette, her stomach rebelling and her mind screaming at her to stop, while her body begged for the hit. She saw Cliff, lying in that hospital bed at the end, fighting for each breath, as Brad flicked the ash onto the pavement and took another drag. He reversed his hold on the remains, enough for one last puff.
Bebe stared at it, seeing Cliff’s face, seeing his coffin descend into the ground. “I’m too young to die,” she said, then, turning her back on Brad and the last drag, headed back in to work. “You’re on your own.”
This story came from a Reedsy prompt: start a story with two people sharing a cigarette in a parking lot. Smoking is a tough topic for me. I lost two brothers to cancer because they smoked. Marc was only 33 when he died. Matt was admitted to hospital for the last time on his 57th birthday. He died a week later. Both of my sisters still smoke.
I’m going to refrain from a rant about the tobacco lobby and the unscrupulous targeting of youth. Suffice it to say, I couldn’t write an innocuous story with a smoking element.
It is a drug and they are addicted. I had a friend many years ago who told me that quitting was easy. He knew because he'd done it thousands of times. It is sad to see young people start smoking. I think it is an attempt to fit in to some imagined role that would show they've grown up or in order to fit in because I think that first drag is the first step into a life long, life threatening battle.
A powerful story today. I also have a lot of strong emotions around the way poison peddlers have been allowed to target kids. I recently saw a story about how early on tobacco companies paid doctors to recommend cigarettes as a treatment for asthma of all things.