Black Magic, Part 2

Black Magic, Part 2 of 2
an4@anon.lelnet.com

School was just getting out and Monica walked over to Michelle's locker. She
felt very much like a girl with an inch that would not be scratched. In fact,
she was feeling just the slightest bit mental, and she knew that she needed to
try and somehow, against all hope, relax.
    "Hey Michelle, want to go across the street to Angel's and get some pizza ?"
   Michelle looked up at her. She had an unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth
and it was pretty obvious what was on her mind.
   "Sure, but we have to take our time walking over there. I am dying for a
cigarette."
   "Looks like you'll be able to stave off death a little longer. Or is that a
lollipop hanging out of your mouth."
   Michelle slammed her locker closed- the only way it would latch these days,
and lit the cigarette.
   "Michelle, we're still inside."
   "Oh, fuck that. It's Friday, for Christ's sake."
   She blew smoke into the hall and despite the end of the day crush, nobody
seemed to mind.
   "What's up ?" Michelle asked, drawing on the cigarette again as they made for
the door.
   "I don't really know, Mickey. I just don't quite feel like myself."
   "You certainly have been irritable lately. It reminds me of the way I get
when I can't smoke, you know."
   "No, I don't know."
   They walked across the front lawn of the school slowly, watching kids pile on
to the school busses and teachers head for their cars. Friday was different
than other days. It was the only time you saw this sort of a mass exodus. The
threat of a weekend was just too much for most people, who couldn't bear the
thought of another hour or two on school grounds when they could be getting
started on the fun part of their lives.
   Michelle managed to smoke an entire cigarette on the walk over. They walked
inside and Michelle headed for the counter, which was tight with students and
teachers, but Monica grabbed her head and lead her towards the tables. Spying
what was available, Monica picked in a table all the way in the back. Where
the smokers sat. This area was packed was students, mostly girls. It was loud
with laughter and talking.
   "I thought you'd want to get it to go so you could get home and start
studying for the English test on Monday. And you know this is the smoking
section."
   Monica smiled sardonically to indicate the fact had not escaped her notice.
The area was thick with smoke, visible remnants of what the people back here
had come to do.
   Strangely, just being here made her feel better.
   Before they could finishing settling in the waitress came and took their
order, not seeming overly thrilled about the tip potential that two silence of
pizza and two diet Cokes offered.
   "Can I tell you something that I don't want repeated to anyone ?"
   Michelle looked at her friend. It was a stupid question. Of course she could
trust her with a secret.
   "Yes. As long as you're not wetting the bed, I can keep a secret."
   Monica looked at her sourly.
   "I really wonder about you sometimes."
   "I'm sorry. Go ahead and tell me what you wanted to talk about. I'll be
good."
   "For a change. I've been having dreams."
   "Bobby Hall, right ?" Michelle said, a devilish look in her eye. She lit a
cigarette.
   "Not those kind of dreams. I'd like to having those kind of dreams, mind you,
but I'm not. This is entirely different. In my dreams- well, in my dreams I
smoke."
   "You smoke ? You mean, like casually ?"
   Michelle demonstrated this with a long pull on her cigarette, followed by a
mixture of nose and mouth exhales drawn out as Monica tried to explain what
the smoking was like. And how ? Didn't she need to be a smoker to understand
and explain it ? Although, at least in her dreams, she had become a smoker.
   "I wouldn't necessarily say casually. But I would say naturally. See, it's
like this- it's always Friday night. Dinner is over and Brimstone is coming
on. Mom rushes into the living room and I just ask her for a cigarette. She
gives me one and-"
   "You actually smoke it ?" Michelle asked, genuinely excited.
   "The first night. The next two nights I smoked two, the two after that four,
and the last two nights, eight."
   "Wow. That explains a lot," Michelle said, blowing smoke directly at her
friend and watching as she, entirely unconsciously, leaned into it so that it
washed over her.
   "What do you mean ?" Monica asked, getting annoyed again, although at the
same time feeling more peaceful than she had in some time.
   "Your irritability the last week, for one thing. And your coming in here and
sitting down in the smoking section. You never want to take the time to
actually sit down, relax, and hang out, and even when you do you never- I mean
never- take me into account and grab a table in smoking."
   "That's not true-" Monica said, unwilling to admit that she was that
inconsiderate. But then she thought about it as she watched Michelle draw on
the cigarette again and realised that her friend was right. It was only on
rare occasions when Michelle demanded they sit in the smoking section that
they actually did. It had never once been her idea, not in the six months
since Michelle had started.
   "You know I'm right," Michelle said, watching her friend lean into her exhale
again.
   "Well, I'm sorry. I never meant to be rude-"
   "No, it just came naturally, right ?"
   Mean, but Monica knew that she deserved a little meanness.
   "I guess so. I mean, I'm exposed to smoking all the time at home and whenever
you and I go anywhere we can't walk-"
   "It is my car," Michelle reminded her.
   "True. And I love hanging out with you, when I actually have the time-"
   "So, do you want to get rid of that itch you can't scratch or just sit there
and suffer without having a cigarette ?'
   "It's not like I'm really smoking, Mickey."
   "You might as well be. Trust me, you are acting exactly like I do when I
can't smoke. When grandma comes to visit I'm not allowed to smoke anywhere
around the family. After a couple of days- the weekends are the worst, I'm
ready to climb the walls. I get this look in my eyes that's exactly like the
one you have. I'm just smart enough to do something about it. Grandma never
goes out to the barn-"
   "I'm not a smoker, Mickey. They're just fucking dreams, you know. It's not
like I'm addicted like you."
   I don't smoke because I'm addicted. That's really mean. I smoke because I
love it. I can't begin to describe how much I love to smoke. It's the best
feeling in the whole world. And you're just cheating yourself by refusing the
simple pleasure of enjoying it. You're the smartest person I know-"
   "Next to Ken-"
   "No, Ken just knows a lot. That's never inhibited his ability to be an idiot-
in fact, it seems to exacerbate the problem."
   "But you think I'm being stupid about smoking ?"
   "I know that you are." She punctuated this with one last solid pull on the
cigarette, complete with a stunning exhale which covered them both in her
smoke.
   "I'm not going to smoke now, so you can stop. I was just telling you about my
dreams."
   "Fine, do it tonight. Talk about deja vu. Hey, if you want to start smoking
with your mom, I think that's great. We should all be so lucky. I had to sneak
around for six weeks before my mom finally confronted me, and the only reason
she gave in and let me smoke was because, being a smoker herself, she knew
what a crab I'd be if she didn't."
   "What about your dad ?"
   "My dad says he thinks it's cool that I smoke. He just likes watching women
smoke, and at least he can watch me without feeling any guilt."
   "That's kind of weird, Michelle."
   "No, it's not, not really. I think it runs in the family."
   Monica was going to ask for an explanation, but their pizza came and they
settled down to eating.

   Monica was entirely on edge now. Dinner was over. Mom had served wine with
pasta, not unusual for a Friday night, but Monica had noticed that Mom had
kept her glass full all through dinner and as a result, she was feeling a
little tipsy. Normally Mom wasn't quite so generous with the wine and Monica
would usually have turned down anything more than a second glass, but the
truth was that she'd been hoping that wine would calm her down.
   By and large, it hadn't. She was now drunk and irritable, which was
essentially a bad mix.
   It was almost five of eight and the last of the dishes were going into the
dishwasher. Pretty soon the moment of truth would come and-
   And Monica was now sure that she could solve the irritation in a simple way.
It would just take one cigarette to wash it all away, but somehow-
   She just wasn't sure that she could do it.
   Mom polished off the dishes in record time was in her chair at three minutes
to- but not until she'd handed her a small flute glass with Bailey's in it.
   It was as if she knew, Monica thought.
   Bailey's was here favourite thing in the world.
   "What's the occasion, Mom ?"
   "What do you mean ?"
   "Bailey's ?"
   "You just seem so irritated, honey. There's nothing more calming than a
little Bailey's, you know."
   "Mom, when you said that it was up to me whether or not I decided to smoke,
did you really mean it, or was that just parent-speak ?"
   "Of course I meant it. Don't think I'm just trying to say what you want to
hear. If you really want to smoke, I know better than to think that I can stop
you."
   "I was more thinking is it all right if I decide I don't want to smoke."
   Joyce did a fine job of hiding her disappointment. Was this the result of all
of her efforts, of invoking dark magic ? If it was, the black arts were
definitely overrated. She felt as though she had wasted the opportunity
somehow. Of course, Tina had been so goddamned convincing, as though there was
no chance that this wouldn't work-
   "Of course, honey. I would never want you to smoke because you thought that's
what I wanted. That would be silly."
   "Okay. I needed to know that. Can I have a cigarette ?"
   Joyce stopped silently cursing Tina and smiled.
   "Come on over here."	
   "What ?"
   "Come over here and sit down with me and I'll help. Just the first one."
   Still entirely grumpy, Monica's first impulse was to remind her mother that
this was not potty training 101. But now that she wanted to do this, she
didn't really care how it was accomplished. So she went over and sat down in
front of her mother, in a chair meant for one person at a time, and wondered
what was going to come next.
   "Now just try to relax, honey."
   She did as she was told, but it was hard. She was very tense, and her mother
sensed that. She she started to massage her shoulders, gently working out the
tension as the show started. Although Monica wasn't really big on being
touched, the ministrations of her mother did work some of the tension which
had been building in her for the last week out. By the time the commercial
came, she was feeling better.
   "That's it," Joyce said, reaching around her daughter to pick up her
cigarettes and lighter. She pulled out a single cigarette and then tossed the
pack back on the table.
   "Just relax and let me do all the work." She brought the cigarette to her
daughter's lips, trusting now completely in what Tina had told her.
   'She's already smoked a pack and an half of cigarettes, so her body is used
to it. Don't baby her. Make her inhale.'
   She hoped her friend was right.
   Bringing the cigarette up to her daughter's mouth, she placed it between the
waiting lips, which unconsciously wrapped themselves around the filter.
   "Mom, are you nipples hard ?" Monica asked, the cigarette bouncing up and
down as she spoke.
   "Yes, I suppose they are."
   She brought the lighter up to the cigarette and lit it with the practised
ease of a long time smoker.
   It caught easily.
   "Now close your lips tightly around the cigarette, Monica, so that when you
inhale, you're drawing air through it. Go ahead and give it a try."
   Monica did as she was told.
   The smoke entered her mouth and it was sweet and pleasant. It was also far
more familiar than she had expected it to be.
   The smoke passed down over her tongue and into her waiting, anxious lungs.
Once there, she could feel it flower into something wonderful. That feeling
seemed to flow through her entire body.
   Her mother took the cigarette and drew on it herself as Monica exhaled and
they were both wrapped in the sweeter smell of their exhales.
   "Now my nipples are hard," Monica said as her mother handed her the
cigarette.
   "You should never let an hard nipple go to waste, honey," her mother said as
she drew on the cigarette, and though it seemed slightly absurd, Monica found
herself using her free hand to follow her mother's sage advice.
   They shared the cigarette and then Monica, feeling flushed, moved back to the
couch. But as she did, her hand, seemingly operating without any help, caught
the pack of cigarettes and the lighter up off the table.
   "Do you mind, mom ?"
   "Not at all, sweetheart. Not at all."

   Monica waited until they were well outside to light her cigarette. It had
been all she could think about all morning, and when the moment finally came,
she drew out the anticipation of it until the act of lighting up was sub-
orgasmic. Michelle watched the smile blossom on her friend's face as she drew
smoke into her lungs and marveled at how entirely she seemed to have given
herself over to it.
   "I still can't believe that you're smoking."
   "Why ?" Monica asked, her voice clouded by her exhale.
   "I don't know. I just never thought I would be that lucky, I guess."
   "It's not luck. In fact, I think- and I'm not one hundred percent sure why-
that it's the result of a lot of hard work by my mother."
   The two teachers walked out to where the girls were standing, both of them
smoking patiently.
   Brendalee noticed that Monica was now smoking and smiled. She liked the girl.
It was hard to draw a true read on the students after just a week, but
something about Monica was different. She wasn't like most of the kids. It was
hard to explain how, but her focus was different. She wanted to say something,
but before she could find the words, Ophelia beat her to it.
   "It's nice to see that you found the light, Monica. Care to share what
happened ?"
   Monica thought about it, wanted to find the right words that would cast her
mother in the appropriate light, but somehow words seemed to fail, and what
she could tell her friend didn't quite seem appropriate for the adults. Oh,
they were teachers, people who had one foot in that world she lived in, but
still, the vague feeling that somehow her mother had influenced her to smoke
seemed to be a little bit too much to share with these people she hardly knew.
   "It just seemed like the right thing to do, you know ?"
   Ophelia smiled, drew on her cigarette, and exhaled thoughtfully before she
finally spoke.
   "That's what I know the best."
   The four of them laughed and enjoyed the bond they shared.

Previous part | Next part