metanoia

Chapter Seven

Work went by slowly. My boss was out, so I was the only one at the store. All I did was sit behind the checkout counter and look at the 'OPEN' sign to make sure it never magically switched over to closed.

My phone started to ring, and it was my boss.

"Hey, Mike." he said.

"Hi. What's up?" I asked.

"You can close up early today."

"Everyone is quitting or calling in sick. I don't know what to do." He sighed. "We hardly have any business anymore."

"Okay... Are you alright, man?" I asked.

"I'll be fine." He said. "I'm a man, I can handle it." He laughed. I could practically see his grin.

"Yeah, yeah. You enjoy your day off, alright? Talk to you later, Matt."

"You enjoy yourself too, Mikey boy. Later."

We hung up, and I got the keys as quick as I could, flipping off the lights and running to the door. I hopped on my black bike and rode past Evie's little house. Her yellow bike was gone, so I went on to my little apartment.

I've already graduated, I'm just not 18 yet. My parents had kicked me out, though, so I got an apartment. Anyway, I went in and took a quick shower before I went back over to Evie's. I tidied up a little, just because, and then I hopped on my bike, my hair still a little damp, and went to Evie's. Her bike still wasn't there, so I sat on her front step and played on my phone for a little while.

I heard rocks under wheels, and I looked up to see her. She smiled a weak smile at me.

"Hi." she said.

"Hey. How was your day?" I asked, putting my arm around her as we walked through her front door.

"Good. Yours?"

"Good. Hey, where are you going?" she was headed back outside through a back door.

"I need a smoke. I hope that's okay." She said.

"Uh, yeah. That's fine. I don't smoke, though." I ran a hand through my hair. I had no idea she was a smoker.

"Wanna come out with me?" She beckoned with her head.

"Sure." I followed her and sat on her rickety deck swing while she lit her cigarette. She took a long, hard drag, her eyes closed, and blew the smoke out slowly. I had to admit, she made it look almost okay.

"Why do you do that?" I asked.

"Why don't you? Are you scared?"

"Scared? Scared of what?"

"I don't know, that's just what most people say when you ask why they don't smoke."

"I think that's a personal question. I'm not gonna answer."

"Okay, well, I'm not gonna answer you when you ask why I smoke, then."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's only fair. You asked me a question, I asked you one. We both need to answer." She took another drag.

"Okay, fine. Whatever. My uncle died of lung cancer. I don't want to invite that shit into my body. Satisfied?" I growled. She nodded.

"You're scared."

"I'm not-"

"I smoke," she interjected, "because I like it."

There was a pause while I pondered the stupidity of that statement.