Balconial Conversations

Chapter 9: Nicotine

I’m on the balcony before he is, decked out with my pillows and blankets smushed into the corner in a cozy chair-bed. He strides out, without a book or electronic device, and sits down cross-legged facing me.

Without any other greeting, I ask: "Why did I only see you smoking once?"

His eyes drift thoughtfully to the sky, then he smiles. "Because."

"Because why?"

"It's a special thing I do to celebrate or when I am particularly sad."

"Those are polar opposites."

"Yes, they are."

"Which was it?"

"Last week? The latter. I failed an important lab report."

"So you smoked over a paper. I would've burned it up."

"An arsonist, are we?"

"Only mildly."

"I'll burn it with the cigarette lighter instead next time."

"Good idea. You don't want to get holes in your mouth. How bad would that be? Not to mention embarrassing for eating soup in restaurants."

“Thanks for the concern.”

"Were you at school today?"

"Sort of, I only had one class today, and then I went shopping with my mother. She wanted to get my dad a new watch for his birthday but couldn't decide on the look he would want."

"Wait, are you parents still together?"

"Yeah, they're a couple of the weird ones. Of my kindergarten graduating class they are the only parents who didn't get a divorce before we graduated high school."

"I barely know anyone with intact parental relationships...if they're not divorced, they certainly aren't sleeping in the same bedroom anymore if you know what I mean."

"Yeah. See? Relationships are a sham."

"Oh, Cambriel."

"Hey!"