a cigarette for cade | ongoing

04 | live good, die better

"Love is a serious mental disease."
- Plato -

[ F O U R ]
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"WHY DO YOU DO that?" I asked.

We were on the deck in my backyard, and as I sat on a lawn chair, Cade was enjoying himself in the rainbow hammock I hadn't touched in years. The amber, Saturday-evening sunlight basked lazily against our skin.

Luckily, my parents didn't find out about the little 'adventure' we had last night. However, I only got about two hours of sleep when my mom pulled us up to run some errands.

"Do what?" he asked impassively.

I stared at him bemused, and at the cigarette in his hand. Though my parents didn't say anything about him smoking, they showed silent disagreement through their glances nonetheless.

"That," I pointed my chin towards the Marlboro. "You know it's bad for you, right?"

"Is it?" he smiled sarcastically, before taking another drag. "Oh man. I didn't know that. How so?"

I rolled my eyes. "You can get lung cancer, liver cancer, you age faster, your skin grays and loosens, bad breath, heart problems, and your teeth get charred black."

Cade laughed. "That's it?" He flicked away some ash. "Why didn't you just say so? Otherwise, I would've started smoking earlier."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know. Figure it out."

My eyebrows knit together in irritation, since he clearly wasn't taking me seriously. "If you smoke, then your life is shortened. And you know what that means? You miss out on this wonderful world. Do you want that?"

Cade shifted his body to face me and finished the last of his cigarette in silence. Then, he put out the remnants of the flame on his sleeve.

"Live good," he said, smiling crookedly. "Die better."

➶

The world is a cruel place. And it took me a while to realize that, too. Leibniz once said: "We live in the best of all possible worlds". But that is not true. Because our world, out of all possible worlds, might just be the worst.

Cade went to go take a shower, and my parents were busy watching Late Night Jeopardy, so I decided to head to my room. I flopped down onto my bed face-first, and let the soft white comforter engulf me. Stuffing my face into the pillow, I let out a scream.

But I wasn't mad, or anything. I was just tired.

"Willow?"

I heard Cade call out from the bathroom, his voice muffled. Lazily, I dragged myself off of my bed and towards him.

"What?" I asked, putting my ear up against the wooden door so I could hear him better.

"I just realized..."

"What?"

"I didn't bring a towel."

My eyes widened. "Uh, there should be some in the cupboard. Try looking in there."

There was the creak of a hinge and the slamming of wood against wood.