The sun is up and I am boiling over with emotions. I don't know whether I want to scream or cry. So I do neither. I just stomp toward the door. The young resident is gone but his cigarettes aren't. I remember that I used to smoke!
Red lips kiss the gold filter of a cigarette. A flick of the lighter and a small puff to light the tip of the cigarette, then the smoky wisps of tobacco fill the air. I can't remember when or where I was but the action of smoking is all too familiar.
I sit on the overturned milk crate. My hand withdraws a cigarette from the open packet and I flick open the lighter left there by the doctor, exposing the flint wheel and wick. A few firm strokes of the thumb and the flame springs to life.
I breathe deeply and taste the tobacco on my tongue. Its soothing tendrils seeking out every crevice and pocket within my lungs, soothing my nerves as the nicotine hits my brain. Why have I not tried this sooner? I lift the cigarette to my lips again and a draw deep. Closing my eyes, I drift as I exhale. My fingers examine the lighter. It is cold and heavy. I look down and see it is beaten with age. One side, crudely scratched into the steel, I read: 'Live today to die tomorrow'. The other side has the initials 'ER' in beautifully formed script.
A flicker of a memory envelopes my mind. My hair pulled back under a starched cap. A man, in his mid-twenties, with reddish brown hair, lighting my cigarette. I lean into the flame, "Thank you. That's an unusual lighter."
"It was my father's when he was in the war." The man lights his own cigarette and the memory is gone.
I've seen this lighter before...
I hear the rooftop door open. I stand and see Margie and the young brunette nurse approaching. The cigarette, still lit, and lighter fall though my hands onto the gravel as they draw closer to me. I attempt to snuff the cigarette out in the gravel, but my attempt fails.
"Dr Reeves must have been up here already this morning. These are his brand of cigarettes," the young brunette says.
"You'll have to return them to him later, Nicole."
Margie sees the lighter by my foot, bends down and picks it up. She's face to face with me and I don't move, I just stare at her face. My gosh – she's gotten old, when did those lines around her mouth happen?
"His lighter is here too." Margie hands it to Nicole. "He'll appreciate you giving them back to him, rather than some old woman like me."
"Oh Margie, you're not old yet!" Nicole lights her cigarette with the old beaten lighter, then continues the conversation. "Dr Reeves is really cute. Have you noticed how much weight he's lost since he started here?"
"They always do; they eat nothing but junk when they're studying, then once they start their residency, they never have time to eat," Margie replies with a small chuckle.
"Margie, do you think I should lean right over his desk when I give him back his lighter?" Nicole has both her hands palm down on the small table. I can see right down her top, which means so can Margie. I look at Nicole disapprovingly, which might be effective if she could see me.
"Oh Nicole, in my day women didn't chase men! We let them do the chasing. Although, it was during the war, so a few of the girls let their morals slip. My best friend at the time chased after a doctor, even though he wasn't free. She caught him alright, but it didn't end well."
"Why? What happened? Was he married?"
Margie has a faraway look in her eye. "Yes, he was, but there was more to it than that".
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