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Posted on June 22, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

She took one final drag and flicked the cigarette into the street. It was not even half-smoked and the flaming end popped right off and landed in the upturned cuff of a teenager’s jeans.

She was too busy arguing with her boyfriend to notice. She thought he was paying more attention to her best friend than he was to her. He claimed he was being nice but she told him she knew what guys wanted when they were ‘just being nice’. He shoved her, said, “fuck you I don’t need this,” and walked away. Just then the fiery tobacco burned right through the fabric and sizzled into her ankle. For a moment she couldn’t think of anything other than the hurt she felt as she watched her boyfriend walk away. The next moment she screamed in pain from the burning cigarette ember scorching her skin. She crumpled to the ground and an older woman, who was passing by, stopped.

She was an ‘older woman’ in the sense that she was several years older than the teenager. She placed fingers on the girl’s shoulder and asked if she was okay. The girl looked up with tears in her eyes so she knelt by her side to see what was wrong. The girl lifted her jeans cuff and both of them stared at the angry, nearly perfectly round circle of singed skin. She was frozen for a moment and then she shook out the girl’s jeans leg and the burning ember fell out. They looked at it and then at each other before the older woman asked, “Is that yours?” The teenager shook her head, looked at her wound and said, “It hurts. I’m scared to touch it.” The older woman helped her to her feet and led her into a nearby pharmacy where she asked the woman behind the counter for a band-aid.

She was a forty-year-old woman who looked fifty-five. She leaned over her counter to see why the younger girl was holding one jeans leg up and walking so gingerly. When she saw the hole in the girl’s skin she glared accusingly at the older woman. The Good Samaritan didn’t notice the accusation and asked her to hurry. The woman behind the counter slapped a pack of band-aids on the counter and continued to glare. The teenager stood perfectly still as the other woman knelt down to cover the wound. In an icy voice, the woman behind the counter said, “You should clean the wound first.” The woman on her knees looked up and finally connected the woman’s tone with her expression.

She said with some surprise, “You think I did this?” The teenager took a moment from grimacing to assure the woman behind the counter with a shake her head, “Oh no no no, I was fighting with my boyfriend. He just left me and suddenly I felt this pain…and I screamed and she…she was just helping me.” The woman behind the counter looked from the crouching young woman to the standing teenager who added, “We-we just met. I don’t even know her name…” The woman came around the counter with rubbing alcohol and a swab of cotton, knelt next to the other woman and peered at the wound.

She looked up at the teenager and said, “This might sting a bit.” The teenager steeled herself, nodded and shut her eyes. The oldest woman in the room pressed the cotton swab against the mouth of the bottle of rubbing alcohol and dabbed at the spot where the burning cigarette ember had seared the skin right off the teenager’s ankle. The teenager’s sharp hissing intake of breath was the only indication of how she felt when icy cold alcohol touched recently burnt skin. When she was satisfied, the pharmacy clerk nodded at the woman waiting with the band-aid.

She evaluated a couple of angles before applying the band-aid and took a moment to ensure that it was securely attached. When their eyes met the girl nodded and smiled, “Feels much better. Thanks. I’m Carrie by the way.” The woman on her knees smiled, “Sharon,” and got to her feet. Carrie and Sharon solemnly shook hands and turned to the pharmacy store clerk. Almost together they said, “How much for the…”

She waved away the question and went back behind the counter, “Forget about it.” The younger women exchanged glances and Carrie took a tentative step forward, “are you sure?” The older woman, whose name tag read Marisol nodded, “Yes, yes! It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

She gestured at Sharon, “She did her part, I did mine. Got a story out of it. No big deal. I just don’t understand what happened though.” Carried strode forward with an indignant expression, “I know, right? This, like, glowing end of a cigarette was in my jeans, like in the leg. I didn’t even know it was there until it burned me! And the funny thing is, I don’t even smoke!” Marisol nodded, “That’s a good thing. Smoking kills.” Carrie giggled, “It sure killed my ankle…! No strappy shoes for me for a couple of weeks.”

She leaned against the counter and sighed, “This is turning out to be a really crappy day for me. I fought with my boyfriend, who by the way, I think is totally cheating on me! And now this…” Marisol disappeared into the back of the store for a moment and returned with a coffee pot and three Styrofoam cups, “Coffee anybody? It’s a fresh pot.” Sharon nodded, “Yes please.”

She was only half-listening to what Carrie was saying because she was focused on the text message she had received. Marisol poured and said, “Here you go.” When she looked over to smile her thanks she had tears in her eyes. Marisol was in the act of pouring Carrie’s coffee when she noticed the look on Sharon’s face and put the coffee pot down, “You okay Miss?” Sharon sniffled, rubbed ineffectively at her eyes and looked at Carrie, “There must be something in the air today.”

She wandered over to pick up her cup as Carrie said, “What do you mean?”

She smiled and held up her phone, “I just got dumped. By text message!” She managed a laugh through the tears that threatened to overflow at any minute. Marisol’s face went dark, “That’s why I hate fucking technology. ‘Scuse my French.” Carrie and Sharon laughed at the surprising venom in her voice.

She joined in. Almost as suddenly as the wave of laughter came it washed away. The three of them fell silent and busied themselves with sipping their coffee. Carrie shook her head, “I hate guys.”  Sharon toasted her, “Amen to that.” Marisol took a tired sip and nodded, “You kids don’t know the half of it.”

She leaned both elbows on the counter and said with a heavy voice, “It doesn’t get easier I can tell you that.” Sharon shook her head, “No offence but I don’t see how it can get worse than it already is.” Marisol looked at her, nodded, “You may be right. But it doesn’t get easier to deal with as you get older and that’s what makes it harder overall.”

She nodded at Carrie, “This one, the youngest, she’ll get over the little shit she’s with right now. She’ll move on. She’ll get her heart broken again. She’ll find a job, maybe she’ll get engaged, maybe she’ll get married. When she gets to your age, earlier, later…I don’t know, sometime. Then both of you, will get to my age and I pray this never happens to either of you but it’s possible that your man will leave you for your niece. A little slip of a girl who doesn’t have the good sense to wear a skirt that covers the tush!”

She shook her head and drained her coffee. Sharon reached over and covered her hand with her own, “I’m so sorry.” Marisol shrugged, “Yeah, shit happens.”

She poured herself another cup and the three women drank together in silence. After a moment Sharon smiled. Marisol looked at her suspiciously, “What?”

She had a real glint in her eye as she looked from Carrie to Marisol, “I do enjoy the sex though.” Carrie blushed and Marisol sighed, “Amen to that!” Carrie struggled between curiosity and embarrassment as the older women sipped their coffee with known smiles on their faces.

She fidgeted with the cord on her sweatshirt and looked up to find both women smiling at her, “I-I don’t know. I mean I haven’t yet…my boyfriend keeps asking me to…I…I-is it really good?” The older women replied almost in unison, “It can be.”

She couldn’t meet their eyes as she asked the next question, “So should I?”

Sharon said, “Absolutely not, you’re too young.” Her mouth fell open, “What! I’m not too young. I’m sixteen!” Sharon nodded, “Too young.” Marisol agreed, “Way too young.” Cariee felt cornered.

She couldn’t believe it, “There you are saying you miss the sex and then you’re saying I shouldn’t have it? That doesn’t sound fair. Is it only something women over twenty-five are allowed to have?” Sharon’s eyebrows went up and Carrie apologized, “Sorry I wasn’t saying you guys are old or anything…” Marisol and Sharon exchanged a glance before the older woman said, “Oh I think we know what you were trying to say honey. No need to go attacking our age now.” Carrie looked genuinely remorseful, “I-I know. I’m sorry.” Marisol waved her arm, “Forget about it.” Just then the door opened and woman who had flicked away the cigarette that burnt Sharon walked in and looked around.

She looked a little surprised to see three women of varying ages drinking coffee together. Marisol called out to her, “Can I help you?”

She looked unsure, “Do you have cigarettes?” Marisol sighed, “This is a pharmacy Miss.”

She nodded, “Yeah, right. Sorry,” and disappeared through the door. Marisol shook her head. Sharon smiled. Carrie leaned on the counter and asked, tentatively, “So what’s sex really like?” The older women laughed and Sharon said, “You’re still stuck on that.”

She spread her arms with a shrug, “I’m sixteen. What else am I going to care about?” Marisol and Sharon exchanged nods. Carrie looked from one to the other, “Soooo…?”

Sharon: “Painful.”

Marisol: “Rough.”

Sharon: “Dirty.”

Marisol: “You could get pregnant.”

Sharon: “There’s a risk of infection.”

Marisol: “There is a risk of injury.”

Carrie went white.

Sharon: “It can be uncomfortable.”

Marisol: “It can be unsatisfying.”

Both women rolled their eyes.

Sharon: “You can feel inadequate.”

Marisol: “You might feel like crying…”

Sharon: “Or dying…”

Carrie looked from one to the other and said, “Come on! You guys are like the Surgeon General’s Warning for sex!” Marisol straightened up and pointed at Sharon, “That’s what they should do. Put pictures of aborted foetuses and STDs on condom packs.” Carrie was looking deeply anguished, “Come on you guys.” Both women looked at her for a long time, nodded at each and then Sharon said, “But with the right guy, some you love and someone who loves you…”

“Yeah those two have to be the same person by the way,” Marisol piped.

With a smile Sharon continued, “With a guy like that, sex can be pretty amazing.”

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