Cigarettes are like women, illustrative

"If I'm not tall enough, how tall do you want me to be? Do you want me to tower over you or something? How in the world are you going to be able to walk with me? How are we going to kiss? That's a bunch of bullshit."

All this time Melon was staring at me rant while stirring her coffee with a spoon. She was wearing an oversized asphalt, grey sweatshirt with the word "Illustrative" running across her chest. Not sure what it meant, but it was pretty stylish. Her sweatshirt was tucked under her denim jeans.

"I think so too," she said. "But it's all a matter of tastes. Girls generally like tall guys. No doubt about it. Not like you could do anything about it."

I took a sip of my orange juice and let the taste roll around my tongue.


"To me, cigarettes are like women," my other friend said while smoking. I met him in front of the library after seeing Melon. He cut smoking by a huge number, starting from about a pack a day to two or three times a month. "You get pleasure for a limited time, and then they leave you, or you leave them. But you can never get enough of that pleasure."

"That seems more like a prostitute," I said.

He nodded. "But I think cigarettes are stupid," he said, as if he finally came to realize that it damaged your health. "Why should I be smoking this thing? Why can't I stop."

"Why can't you," I said.

"Because I'm stressed. Whenever I'm stressed I need it still. But I'm slowly getting there. Slowly. It's like diminishing marginal utility. Smoking a second time isn't always the best as the first."

To Home: Continued

The only place he could find was a gas station about a block away from where they got off. It was the only brightly lit area around them. The air was chilly, sending tree branches to swing to and fro. The rain began to abate, but the roads were still wet. Tadao reached for her hand, and they walked toward the gas station.

"Let's get something to eat," he said.

Asami let his words slip by and didn't say a word. The dim, orange street lamps spotlighted them, as the cars drove by the road, dutifully. Even though it wasn't raining, Tadao held his clear umbrella over them.

"Are you cold?" he said.

Asami shook her head, eyeing the ground the whole time. Tadao tried to walk a bit faster, but she didn't seem to follow his. Above, the thick rain clouds covered the glittering stars. A haul of wind suddenly blew right toward them. Tadao released her hand, and zipped up his jacket. But when he was about to hold her hand again, Asami refused. She pushed him when he tried to put his arm around her waist.

"What's the matter?" Tadao said.

Asami looked at him, "I don't know. I just don't want to hold your hand right now," she put on her red gloves and shoved her hands in her jacket pocket. "Let's just go to the gas station."

Whereupon Tadao could do nothing but agree. Yet he wondered why Asami didn't want to hold his hand. He thought about it. He thought about it hard, but the only thing he could think about more was the reason she wanted to get off here. Getting off at the last stop was already the first mistake to Tadao.

The wind swept, the clouds drifted, the air damp. Once they arrived at the gas station, they headed toward the store. Without a word, they looked around the place. The cashier was thumbing through the paper, seeming half-aware of the content. Tadao bought a can of beer and a pack of Mild Seven cigarettes. Asami didn't buy anything.

"You don't want anything?" he said. "How about a beer?"

She shook her head.

"We ought to have one since we came all the way here."

"I don't want to," she said.

Tadao paid, and glanced at the clock behind the cashier. It had just struck eleven in the evening. Outside, he pursed the cigarette between his lips and lit it with his lighter. He puffed a few times, and drew out a stream of smoke as it billowed in the air and disappeared. He cracked open the beer and sipped it.

"Sure you don't want some?" he asked.

"I don't," she said.

A long lull fell between them, as they listened to the trees in the distance moving from the wind. No cars were at the gas station at this hour. Asami's face was blank, as she seemed to be staring at nothing, thinking about nothing. Her eyes were just there, two pair of brown eyes attached to her pale, white complexion.

Photo by Min Wu, Flickr

"Let's go home then," he said.

But seconds after he said so, he caught his eye on a small little restaurant by the corner of the road. Indeed it was a restaurant, as the three orange lanterns hung by the roof were dimly lit. Tadao walked toward the door, and looked at Asami.

"I will go in first," he said. "Wait here and I'll see if they're still open."

He gave the umbrella to Asami, as she patiently waited there without a word.

"We ought to take a rest here," he said. "I'm beat."

There was a long lull. "Then let's go here."

Tadao crushed his cigarette with the sole of his foot, slid the door open, and went inside. All this time, Asami stood outside with two hands on the umbrella, looking through the door. The glow of the white restaurant sign, mingled with the orange lantern reflected her pale face. Her hair, graceful even on this rainy, damp day, fell straight down. A slight breeze hit her, and then it slowly waned. A leaf fluttered in the sky and flew away somewhere far away in the distance. The door slid open and it was Tadao.

"We can come in," he said. "They close in thirty minutes."

Whereupon Asami closed the umbrella and head inside. Immediately there was a waft of ramen noodles and shoyu. Two or three salarymen were sitting at the bar, both seeming to be regulars, talking leisurely to the head chef. Tadao and Asami took off their jackets and sat by the counter. He glanced at the menu and decided on a beer with nuts. Asami didn't get anything, as the mood didn't seem to strike for her. They didn't talk for a long while. Her hair covered the side of her face, but she seemed to be looking down. All the while Tadao took his time to glance around his surroundings. Fresh sashimi and fish were lined up by the counter, and behind the chef was a collection of Japanese sake. Tadao wanted a bottle, but for some reason, he skipped it for the night.

Asami didn't move an inch. Tadao placed his hand on her back.

"Asami," he said. "Asami, are you okay?"

Before he knew it, a teardrop fell on her napkin. Tadao pulled her hair aside so he could see her face. Never did he know that she was crying.

"Tadao," she rasped.

"What is it?"

She sighed, looking at Tadao's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm a fool.. a fool for bringing us all the way here."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Most people make mistakes."

"No, but I forced you. We didn't need to be here. We could've been home. We could've had dinner together at home. You know what I mean, Tadao? I wasted our time."

Tadao put his arm around her. "I'm never wasting any time when I'm with you. We just somehow winded up here, but who cares? We're in no rush. Now let's relax, shall we?"

"Tadao."

"What."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? You just wanted to not get off and go home so early, no? I know how you feel."

"I didn't want to get off," she said. "I don't know why. Something told me that I couldn't get off where we usually got off. Don't you ever get that feeling? When you sometimes want to go beyond where you're used to? Explore places?"

"I do," he said. "You want to go on an adventure?"

She nodded. "But that was enough for me. Let's go home."

"Okay," he said. "But let me relax first. Will you let me do so?"

"Yes."

His beer didn't come yet, nor did his nuts. One customer left the bar, leaving only one other customer remaining. Tadao sipped his water, and all he could do at the time was stare at the head chef cleaning the dishes. He thought about finishing the letter, but he could not bring himself to write. With his arm around her, Asami seemed to be sleeping. But he could not tell. He could not tell at all.

Sometimes I want to live alone in privacy. In this place, everyone knows everyone. If I go out with a girl, for instance, everyone would know, and spread word. I'm the type who doesn't want to admit that I am, If I was. Sometimes I want to make new friends, and go somewhere else and start fresh. It's a huge college, but at the same time it isn't. I guess that's what happens when you become a senior.