Smoking

Written 54-E06 [2022-11-15], Edited 54-F27 [2023-01-03]

Image credit: Twitter Twemoji

March 12, 2012

“Hey,” Arjun said. “Guess what I found?”

I paused my game of New Super Mario Bros. and looked at the person trying to get my attention. By the standards of teenagers eating McNuggets at McDonald’s, he seemed giddy. His grin was wide enough to swallow an ocean, and his foot rapidly tapped the restaurant floor.

I took in a breath of greasy air and asked “What is it? What did you find?”

Arjun quickly looked to the left and right. “You have to promise not to tell anyone, okay?”

“Is it a special edition DS?” I asked. But as soon as the words left my mouth I knew that wouldn’t be it. Arjun had different priorities, very different.

He carefully pulled something out of his pocket, but it was obscured by his fingers. Then his hand opened like a clam and showed me his secret. He was holding two cigarettes.

“Wanna try one with me?” he asked.

“You know smoking can kill you right? Like if you get addicted?” I said.

“Oh Arjun, smoking can kill you,” Arjun said in a mockingly high voice. “Who are you, the school principal?”

“You know what Arjun, you can do what you want. But don’t drag me into this. You live your life, and I’ll live mine.”

I expected Arjun to mock me further. But instead he stared at the table briefly and returned his hand to his pocket.

March 12, 2016

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” said Arjun, the Chemical Engineering student.

We were walking together between the buildings of the University campus. On the far left was an aging building with a red brick facade, on the far right was a structure of shining glass and gleaming steel. Closer to us were trees with colorful leaves, and tbe tiled road below our shoes. As out hour long conversation was drawing to a close, I was heading to the bus stop, and he joined me.

“Yeah, ever since we switched programs, we never seemed to run into each other,” said I, the Electrical Engineering student.

“Yo, have you been drinking?” Arjun asked.

“Nah, I don’t drink,” I said.

“And don’t smoke either, guess it suits you,” Arjun said. “By the way, you don’t mind me having a quick smoke here do you? Got to be outside the building and all that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure, whatever, as long as I’m upwind from you.”

My old friend pulled out his lighter and a cigarette. I pulled out my Apple iPhone SE to play Threes. I wasn’t even particularly skilled, nor did it give me any sense of wonder. Yet in terms of sheer time spent, Threes was my favorite pastime.

“Any plans to quit?” I asked without looking up from my phone.

“How else am I going to get the edge off in this fucking engineering program?” said Arjun.

We stood around in silence for a minute or so.

“You seriously don’t drink beer?” asked Arjun.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” I said.

“That’s totally a beer belly though!” he said. Then he shifted to a less excited tone. “Sorry to be rude, just something that popped in my head.”

I looked down briefly at my expanding gut. “Don’t know what to tell you man, it’s all poutine and cola.”

Arjun turned away and exhaled. A wisp of hot smoke melted into the cold autumn air.

“Other reason I was asking, was that me, Anjali, Abishek, and the others were all planning to go to the bar later. Want to come with?” he asked.

“I’m sure they’d be happy to see you.”

“That’s quite nice of you. But no thanks. I’d have to take a later bus to Toronto,” I replied. I was on co-op and Arjun wasn’t, so I was working in Toronto during Arjun’s study term.

Arjun nodded gravely, then returned to his excited self.

“Well, have a good trip! See you again sometime!” he said.

I walked away from the trees, and campus buildings and Arjun. I climbed into the top floor of the GO Bus, and waved down at Arjun. He smiled and waved back, then went on his way.

I returned to my game of Threes, and hoped the local burger place would still be open when I got back.

March 12, 2019

I sat in the Grand River Transit bus, and prepared to start yet another game of Threes. But I noticed a familiar face in a nearby seat.

“Hey Abishek, how are things?” I said, as I sat next to Arjun’s old friend.

Abishek stroked his beard carefully. “I’m good, I guess,” he said without smiling. “I was just on my way to the GO bus stop. How about you?”

“I’m just grabbing a Popeye’s before I get home.” I said.

“Working hard?” asked Abishek with a smirk. “Or hardly working?”

“Well, you know me.” I said, shrugging.

Abishek pursed his lips and stayed silent for a second.

“Did you hear about Arjun?” asked Abishek.

“No, how’s he doing?” I responded.

“He’s passeed away,” Abishek said.

For a moment, I stopped breathing. I felt a wave of grief crash upon my mind.

Arjun was dead. He was barely through his twenties, he didn’t even finish university, and he was dead.

“It was lung cancer,” Abishek continued. “The funeral was just last week.” Arjun died. He died and I wasn’t there, not even for his funeral. That was the second wave of grief, the realization that we had drifted so far apart.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.

I got off the bus at Popeye’s, ordered a 4 piece platter, paid with debit, and left with the massive plastic bag in hand. I headed home and sat in front of my laptop.

My “home” felt empty. I technically lived with roommates, but we hardly talked or even used the shared living spaces. Not that it mattered, I chose the place for the internet and location.

My Apple iPhone 11 buzzed. It was a text from a scammer: the main sort of notification I got from that slab of metal.

I opened YouTube and planned to spend the night the same way I did most other nights: relaxing while leaving academic and social concerns for later.

Instead, I cried.

Feedback from The Joy of Writing group

• nice descriptions, humor
• add a little more of tech obsession, a little more addiction
• instead of dates, tell passage of time another way
  • “it was three years later”
  • or tell with iphone version numbers
• emphasize what’s going on
• narrator addicted - please make it clearer
• trilogy of symbol: DS, phone, phone (like pens and marker)
• waves of grief is a cliche, more explicit feel, material action - imply the emotion, don’t just say it
• diary entry more immediate
• 3rd vignette: switch games again to something more depressing, Solitaire maybe