Sins of Smoke

Mama was Sick

[Friday 11th July, 7:46pm]

Poor mama was sick. Though that's nothing unusual, she was always sick these days. Arthritis got to her a couple years back and that bastard had been clawing away ever since. But last night it seemed as though the air was fighting to leave her faster than she could hold it in.

She was sat in Pa's old rocking chair, for the comfort of it. Before Ma started aching and hollering no one was allowed to sit in Pa's chair, and he made certain everyone knew. A couple of times as kids me and Kenny made a game of trying to steal a seat before he got home from work (until a couple of times we got caught and made it seen to we couldn't sit on his chair for a week – or any other chair for that matter).

I watched Ma, sat on the soft leather cushions, hunched over with her knitting needle like some kind of buzzard trimming its claws. She was silhouetted against the back window as the last dregs of the sun shone against the side of her face. I thought it strange, then, how the light made the one side seem so much younger. Almost as though time had slipped backwards and restored some of her youth. Yet, the shadows on the darkened half sent a chill down my spine, showing her frailty and the effects that age had sprung upon her. She was old now, and somehow came down with some kind of cold or ailment almost every other day. I wasn't ready for Ma to die.

Kenny came running down the stairs like someone had taped fireworks to his shoes and landed with a thump at the bottom. Shook me and Ma up real good as we ain't seen Kenny for a few days now. The layabout spent most of his time moping in his room since losing his missus to the doctor's son, Billy Richton. Not that I blame her at all. In my humble opinion you'd have to be scraping the bottom of the barrel to settle for my brother.

'You're never gonna believe it, Ma!' he cried, breathless from his dash. His shaggy hair clung to his sweaty forehead giving the impression he'd been out for a run. I had to laugh at the state of him. No stamina at all. Of course, he noticed. 'You best stop your mouth from flapping, 'fore I stop it for you.'

Kenny got madder when that made me laugh more. 'How the hell you gonna stop me flapping when you can't even hold your own lady down? You ain't got enough fight in you to get at me, brother. So why don't you take a breath and tell us what's got you so riled up. I ain't seen you this pumped since Dennis laced your toothpaste with coke.'

Dennis was the town prankster, and my best friend. He had the Pied Piper's charm with the ladies and the stealth of an underground rat to sneak up and play his jokes. Granted, the son-of-a-bitch sometimes went a bit too far with his shenanigans, but he somehow always found a way to make folks see the funny side. That was what was so dangerous about Dennis.

'When you gonna let that go, Coop? It was one time, okay? People have forgotten.'

'Just because people ain't say nothing, doesn't mean they don't remember. People don't forget in this town.' I loved to tease Kenny. It was like leading a pig down a shit-slide, and I had years of experience on my side to know how to push his buttons. Or maybe it was just his nature. He'd always had a short temper.

Ma paused her click-clacking and snapped at us. 'Boys! That's enough,' she squawked. 'I know I ain't got much puff in my billows but I'll use everything I got to come over there and whoop you both. I don't need this kind of racket breaking such a sunset. Now, what is it you want, Kenny?'

'Right! Turns out Sarah and Billy been at each other's throats ever since she found him peeping through Darleen's bushes, and she wants to meet me at the Coyote to talk things over.' I couldn't believe his excitement. The way he was talking like she could do no wrong, forgetting the last time she broke his heart and trampled it into the dust. That would never be me. Ever since Pa left without leaving so much as a note for Ma I promised myself I'd never hand my heart to nobody. What's mine is mine. You'd think Kenny was some kind of cat the way he handed his out like he had some to spare.

Ma croaked something positive about Kenny being a lucky bastard for having a second chance with a lover and I saw the effect those words had on him. Next to Ma it was Kenny who took Pa's leaving the hardest. As the eldest son they'd always been close and it was a tough role to place the master of the house on him when he was so young. And I swear if I hadn't been in the room right there and then those watery eyes of Kenny's would have shed. Not that he ever wanted to show his affectionate side around me.

'If you're heading out, mind if I come along? The gang should be up to their mischief soon and you know how I hate being the last to arrive. I hear Dennis has some surprise lined up for you too,' I shot him a wink that met an icy return. He really doesn't get my humour.

Then Ma coughed. I ain't ever heard a cough like it in my life. It racked her body and curled her up in a ball, looking like an armadillo but sounding like a rattlesnake was trying to escape her gut. I really didn't like to leave after hearing that.

But Ma insisted. I don't care what anybody says, no matter how old you get, you never wanna say no to your mama. After years of losing arguments and being told that mama is always right, it kinda sticks.

So we left. Me and Kenny. We didn't feel all that great leaving Ma alone but we both knew she'd be happier in peace, left to her knitting. Following the old dirt path we used to tread as kids we made our way to the Coyote. In some ways it felt like we were those kids again, and we laughed and teased and talked about Kenny's chances in romance and the possibilities that night could hold.

*

[Saturday 12th July, 06:32am]

I lose my tongue for a moment and look at the floor. For the first time since I arrived I allow my senses a moment to breathe. Harrison notices the silence yet allows me a few moments of reflection. Classy guy. I wish I'd have a chance to thank him when this is all over, but I don't see that as an option. The musky scent of stale beer seduces my nostrils, rising from the splashes that, even now, feel sticky to the touch on my trouser leg. There's something else in those dark patches that I don't care to remember. The weak man's fluid. But I'll move past that.

My cap hangs loosely in one hand as I wipe the gathering sweat from my brow with the other. The sun is rising in the sky now and I can feel the heat causing further discomfort besides the aches and bruises that dot my body. Seems like every part of this damned booth is made of some kind of wood. I guess they don't expect long-staying visitors in here. I remove my jacket and scrunch it up under my butt in an attempt to both cool down and find some kind of comfort. After all, I've only cracked the surface...