Second Pack, Fifth Cigarette
Tags: Trauma, Memories, Life, Writing, Smoking

‘Second Pack, Third Cigarette’ I counted to myself. I took the cigarette out of the pack, lighted it, and took a deep, long puff. Yesterday was a very long day and I had come here to unwind.

I walked down the road with my eyes on my feet, looking at each step I took.

‘Hey baby’, called at a woman

‘Hey sexy’, called out another

No, no I’m not in some dystopian future where the roles of men and women have been interchanged, where we have to pay the price for enjoying the benefits of years of patriarchy.

I’m just in the “wrong” part of town. Where women stood in front of their rooms, looked at men who passed through with their leery and lecherous eyes and tried to entice them into their rooms while gauging the money they could swindle of a man.

I ignored all the catcalls and kept walking because I knew exactly where I wanted to go and who I wanted to meet. I saw her from afar, leaning onto the streetlight, tapping away at her phone. She’d worn high heels, a loose pair of jeans, and a deep cut top that showed her waist. I walked up to her and stood there. She took a minute to take her eyes off the phone and notice me in front of her. She looked at me, turned around, and walked into her room, still tapping away at her phone. I went in with her. Watched her as she locked the door, one latch on the top and one straight down the middle.

She turned and asked me,

‘Are you drunk?’

‘No’

‘Do you have the money?’

‘Yes’

And that’s all she needed to know. She took off her top, took off her jeans, and sprawled on the bed half-naked. I went and stood at the foot of the bed and looked at her body. A body blessed with the perfect genes and maintained well. Well enough to pull a man away, away from thoughts of his family, away from his better senses, and into her arms.

I started unbuttoning my shirt as I looked at her. Her feet and her thighs as I removed the first few, her waist, and her stomach as I removed the rest. Her breasts and her neck as I slipped the shirt off my shoulders. But when I saw her face, I stood there, frozen. Frozen in time, space, and mind and my shirt, hanging on my elbows.

I saw a different face attached to that body, one that I’ve been trying to forget.

A face I fell for the first time I saw it, a face I thought the mother of my children would have. In that split second, it all rushed past me, that one second of lingering eye contact, the first laugh that we shared together. How the slightest of touches would burn a fire in our faces and how we’d search for each other on our drunken nights. I remember how her eyes sparkled as she confessed her feelings for me, confident as she knew what the answer would be, and how those same eyes would get lost in the sight of the endless ocean. I remember the times we made love, and the last time we did too.

That’s the face I remember. Our arms and legs were locked in each other when I saw that face. Pale, emotionless like something had died.

‘ This is not working out’ she said.

‘ I do not love you anymore, I have lost respect for you as a man and no part of you makes me feel alive’

‘ There is no “we”, there is no “us”, there is no version of the future where we both end up together’

‘ So if you want we can do it one last time, because that too is never happening again.’ she said, lighting a cigarette

Something had died, her feelings for me.

That memory snapped me back into reality. I pulled my shirt back over my shoulders and smiled as I started buttoning my shirt. There was a time I’d spend hours and days thinking about ‘What If?’. I’d build castles in the air of a future that I knew would not be possible, but that had become my new favorite hobby.

I was happy I’d made progress, trained my mind to think of the bad times, that I otherwise couldn’t recollect, and was finally able to ground myself back into reality. I don’t even know of this could be called progress

‘ Again? ‘ she asked laying on the bed.

‘ I’m afraid so ‘

She got up quickly and got dressed

‘ Do you have some problem? You know like down there? ‘ she asked pointing a finger at my crotch.

I pulled her finger to my temple and said

‘ The problem isn’t down there, but up here ‘

She didn’t seem to understand.

‘ Why did you even come here? ‘

‘ I guess I’m searching for some color in my life’

I put a bunch of notes on her table and said

‘ I’m sorry for the trouble my love, I’m guessing an incident like this might not be that great for your self-esteem’

‘Self-esteem? You think I’m worried about that? ‘ she asked with one hand on her chest.

‘ A huge chunk of the entire world doesn’t have the thing called self-esteem, my love. We are but empty shells, walking around aimlessly, seeking validation from people we don’t know.’

She didn’t seem to understand this as well.

I took out a cigarette from the pack and lighted it.

‘ Second Pack, Fourth Cigarette’ I counted to myself.

I walked out of that room.

She locked the door, leaned against the streetlight, and went back to tapping on her phone. The lady in front of the adjacent door looked at her and said

‘ I’ve seen many guys who finish as soon as they start, but your guy definitely takes the cake ‘

‘ He should start first to finish no ‘ she replied not looking up from her phone

‘ You mean he didn’t even touch you? ‘

‘ Not a hair ‘

‘ And he paid you as well? ‘

‘ Always extra, he never counts ‘

The lady looked at the figure of the man walking away and said

‘ I think you’ve got your hand on one of those’

‘ One of what? ‘ she asked, interested, looking away from my phone for the first time

‘ You know, one of those “Aashiqs”, those idiots lost in love ‘

‘ How do you know that? ‘

‘ Who else would look at a naked woman in front of him and think of someone else? He’s definitely one of them ‘

‘ Is it a bad thing? ‘

‘ Oh No! It’s a great thing for us, they don’t touch you, always pay you and keep coming back as well. Listen ~no~, why don’t you send him my way sometimes? ‘

She turned and looked at the figure walking away and smiled for a bit. Then she went back to her phone.

I had walked quite a long way aimlessly and my cigarette had burnt out. I looked at the stars and kept walking, thought to myself that I’ll let the stars decide my way. If it’s heaven or hell that it leads me to, I wouldn’t know the difference.

It was just then that I remembered another memory. A memory of a time we lived together. She had long and stunning black hair. That was her most alluring feature which only came second to her eyes. Problem was, that she always had a hard time maintaining it. I could always find one strand of her hair in every corner of the house. This one day she was standing in front of the mirror and she was combing her hair. I was watching her, sitting on the sofa. It was just then that I found a strand of her hair on the arm of the sofa and played with it in my hands. Just then her comb got stuck in her hair and she shouted in pain.

‘ Damn this hair! ‘

I looked at the strand in my hand and agreed

‘ Ah yes, damn this hair ‘

I shook my head hard and brought myself back.

‘ Fucking memories ‘ I thought to myself.

I reached for my pack, took out a cigarette, lighted it, and took a deep long puff.