Between Drags

by Vanessa Rebello

He put the cigarette to his lips and took a long hard pull. He breathed her in. His nose filled with her sweet perfume, the smell of her hair. Her voice resounded in his ears, her memories in his brain, her love in his heart.

She was an innocent college student when they first met. He was older, sure that he’d seen much more than her, that he’d seen it all. But then there she was, unlike anyone he had ever known; trusting, vulnerable, so eager to love, to be loved. Her childlike innocence bubbled from her beautiful eyes, allowing her to stretch out her arms when she wanted to hold him, to cry when she was sad and burst into a thunderstorm of joy when she was happy. She was so simple. Everything was right there, nothing to hide, and nothing to lie about.

And then there was him. He knew no other way than that of games and distrust. His life was complicated. He laughed when he was sad, cried when he was alone. He had learnt the tough way - it was better to hurt then to be hurt. A past hidden – filled with lies and deceit. He was pure titanium on the outside, impenetrable, or so he thought. Until she came along, and looked at him, through him– into that cowering heart, crippled by fear.

She showed him how to love, how to have someone to trust, even blindly so. No better way to learn than by example. She showed him that it was alright to be imperfect. It didn’t make him weak, it made him human. He loved her. He loved himself when he was with her. He wished he didn't.

And then in an instant, as if waking from a dream, it was all gone. His fears, his insecurities, they awoke from their dormant state, swollen with an inexplicable rage. What if she hurt him? She would only be able to because she had given him the power to do so. No. Such powers should not be shared. They only cause pain. He knew from experience. He’d been hurt before, he couldn’t stand for it to happen again. It had been engraved into a dark corner of his soul; better to hurt than to be hurt. And so he did.

He collected every thought about her, every memory, every wish, and breathed it out with a cloud of smoke. And he was free of her, at last. Free in body. Free in mind. Free in soul.

It lasted for a second, maybe less. Then a familiar ache found its way back to his heart. He sighed. He put his cigarette to his lips and pulled in the cure to his heartache all over again.