Coffee & Cigarettes

Part 21

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"You can't crush ideas by suppressing them. You can only crush them by ignoring them. By refusing to think, refusing to change."

― Ursula K. Le Guin

~

I don't know why, but I felt more on edge than usual.

As I stood outside of my house, I could hear the quiet roar of shouting coming from inside. I do not want to go in there. I could already feel a headache starting.

I didn't care that I had already smoked a cigarette before starting the 10-minute drive here as I took another from my pocket and lit the end.

I took a drag but still felt nothing.

Suddenly, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket. Azeem was calling. What did he want? I liked the guy but I wasn't in the mood for his usual brand of cheesy humor.

"What do you want?" I asked, cutting right to the chase as I answered the phone. He laughed. "Hello to you, too."

"What do you want?" I repeated again.

"Have you spoken to Michael recently? He isn't answering my calls." Azeem explained. I sighed. "Yeah, He's probably not answering 'cause he's planning on dumping you," I muttered bitterly.

"Wait, did he really say that?" Azeem asked, a panic in his voice.

I should not have told him that. Welp, it's too late to go back now. "Yeah," I answered honestly. Azeem didn't say anything else before hanging up.

I should not have done that. Not that it mattered. Things weren't working out between them anyway. Nothing mattered anymore. I took another drag. I needed something stronger.

"You shouldn't be smoking." A voice said, startling me. I turned to see Mr.Schindler standing on the porch. I took another drag.

"What are you going to do? Tell on me?" I asked tiredly. He put his hand on his hip. "If I have to. Though I doubt either of us wants your mother to know about this." He answered, challenging me. I rolled my eyes before dropping the half-finished cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

"Give me your pack," Schindler asked, without missing a beat and holding out his hand. I sighed again before reaching into my pocket and pulling my pack out.

"You know, I liked you a lot better before you were dating my mom, Jeffery," I said as I handed him the pack.

It didn't matter if he took it or not, I would just buy another. Plus, I was almost finished with that one.

"What's wrong?" Schindler asked, not letting my comment phase him. I shrugged. I don't know what's wrong anymore. "Life," I finally answered.

"You've had a few bad days. But, that doesn't mean it's been a bad life, Daniel."

I looked away from him, toward the street. Hmm, I hadn't noticed my Dad's truck parked there earlier. That would explain the yelling I heard. I doubt Schindler would ever raise his voice at my mom. He wasn't that kind of guy.

"Does it ever get better? Life, I mean." I asked turning back to him. "If you are willing to try and make it better." He answered.

That's the problem. I don't know if I'm willing to try anymore.

"Do you remember meeting a man named Charles Coolie? He was at your art show last year." Schindler asked, suddenly changing the subject.

Not really. The night of the art show was mostly a haze now. "Why?" I asked.