A Cigarette

I brought the cigarette between my lips, pausing for a second- a second so quick no one could notice I breathed outward, before inhaling deeply.  I clenched my teeth, refusing to cough.  I will not cough.  He wouldn't cough.  He smoked like it was as easy as breathing.  He would place the cigarette against his mouth any second now, inhale, hold, exhale, laugh, inhale, hold, exhale, say something about how my sunglasses have finger prints on them, inhale, hold, exhale, offer me one.  I'd say no.  I always said no.
I brought the thin white paper to my face, and just held it.
A few girls walked by me, and I felt their steady gaze on the hand by my face.  On the cigarette.  I inhaled deeply.  Do not cough.  Do not cough.  Jane I swear to god, do not fucking cough.
They were out of site.
I hurled over, choking up my lungs.
"God!"  I slammed my hands against the wall I was now leaning against.  The rough red bricks scraped my hand, I cursed while pinching the still burning cigarette.
"Is this what you wanted?!"  I shouted at the wall.  I could see him.  His head would be tilting ever so slightly.  His mouth would be slightly upturned.  The black leather jacket would be crinkled as he would place his hands in his jean pockets.  He'd pull out his pack.  He's pull out his lighter.  He'd bring both to his mouth.  And then he'd pause for a second.  A second no one could see.  But I saw it.  I saw it every time.  I saw his hesitation.
"Your hesitation should have lasted longer."  I spat at the wall, "You should have thrown out your pack.  Taken up some activity.  For God's sake--!"  A sob choked my throat, "Kept your nerves calm some other way."  I flicked the built up ash off the tip of the cigarette and leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down into sitting position.
I stared at the cigarette.
"Is this what you wanted?"  I flicked off more ash, "This was your plan wasn't it.  You do this with a lot of people.  You don't have to though.  You could stop this.  Stop hurting people."  More ash.
I didn't expect it to respond.
"You do realize that's an inanimate object, right?"  For a second-- only a second-- I freaked out because I thought it was talking to me.  To be fair though, I hadn't slept in the past month.  But I calmed down when I realized that one, the voice was right.  It was an inanimate object.  Two, the voice was female.  And I know this may be gender biased, but I thought a cigarette would sound kind of like a raspy old man.
I looked up, only to see a pair of green eyes and a quite noticeable chest that was being enclosed by a tank top.
I blinked.
She was brave.
She sat down next to me.
"Cancer?"  Her voice did sound kind of raspy.
I didn't look at her dark red hair pulled into a very high pony tail.  Or her  vibrant green, spider-like nails.  Or her stiletto scarlet pumps.  And I didn't even notice her very short jean skirt.  I brought the cigarette to my mouth, paused, inhaled. Don't cough, Jane.  I swear to- well, you already know who.
"You do know you aren't technically aloud to smoke in this area, right?  If you want to smoke outside a hospital, there are designated areas."  Her bright pink lips popped a perfect bubble with minty gum.
I inhaled.
"You might not want to talk, but I had to speak to ya."  Pop.
Inhale.
"You can't smoke here."  Pop.
Inhale.
"You may not believe this, but I'm a doctor here.  You can't smoke here." Chew. Chew. Chew.
I looked at her.  Her green eyes seemed so bright, and that's when I noticed the laugh lines by her eyes.
"Come on."  She stood up with ease, and offered me her hand. "Come on, sweets."  She tugged my free hand up.
We were walking around the hospital.  My limbs felt heavy.  I don't like smoking.  It makes my body feel gross.
We stopped suddenly.
"Here.  You can smoke here."  She smiled.  Her laugh lines were emphasized.
"Thanks."  I mumbled.  Inhale.
"She speaks," She said as she rose her eyebrows in awe, "What other words do ya know?"  Pop.
"Fuck." Inhale.
She let out a harsh, surprised laugh, "That was unexpected.  And crude."
"Aren't you worried about second-hand smoke damage to your lungs?"  I asked apathetically.  Inhale.
"Sweets, I'm a doctor and I've been smoking since I was ten. I know the risks.  I know how addicting it is.  I'm a walking oxymoron.  A doctor who smokes."  She laughed more heartily.  I heard the raspy again.
And for a second, while her profile was laughing, I saw him laughing.  He didn't have laugh lines though.  But I guess he always seemed permanently young.  He was supposed to stay young with me.
"So it took you a bit to speak, I'm guessing you're the same with laughing."  Her pink lips grinned.
Inhale.  Flick.
She exhaled slowly; calmly.
We didn't speak for a while.  My cigarette was almost out.
He would be putting it under his shoe, grinding it out.  He would be pulling out another one.  Pack, lighter, mouth, pause, inhale.
His hands eventually began shaking.
His hair was starting to thin.
By the time we found out, it was too late.
"Why did you say Cancer?"  I asked while trying to cover my cough.
She answered while looking ahead, "You'd be surprised, but working in a hospital you see a lot of Cancer patients."  Her smile was dripping with sarcasm.  But she still seemed happy.  Then she turned to me, "I saw you practically vomit.  You haven't been smoking long.  I'd say you started the past twenty-four hours.  And I realize I'm supposed to respect patients privacy, but I was Wesley's doctor."
My throat closed when she said his name.
"Wesley had been smoking for a very long time."
"Don't."
"But just because he died that was, doesn't mean you should."  Pop.
Inhale.
"I'm surprised you don't recognize me."  She said while chewing, chewing, chewing.
I rose an eyebrow.  I think I'd remember her bright pink lips and vibrant green nails.  Especially her doctoral dressing habits.
Inhale.
"Let me introduce myself to you again Ms. McKinley."  She lobbed her wad of gum into the trash can, pulled a tissue from her pocket to wipe off her lipstick, released her hair from the pony tail and folding her hands carefully in front of her.  Her posture suddenly changed, and her voice grew serious.  In my sleep deprived state, her name rushed back to me.
"Doctor Hansen."  We said in unison.
I groaned, "For--"
"God's sake.  I know."  She pulled a slender tube from her pocket, and she tugged the cap off revealing a thick bubble gum pink lipstick-- one that was well used.  She laughed, "Hey, currently I'm on a break.  Losing a patient is hard, and we had to sort out paper work."
I clenched my teeth.
"Oh I'm sorry, did I offend you?"  She suddenly sounded angry.
"Yes-"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you could taste my words with nicotine staining your tongue."
I blinked, too shocked to say anything.
"Ms. McKinley, you don't have to take up his dirty habit."  She put a new stick of gum in her mouth.
I looked at the cigarette.
"There wasn't anything we could do for Wesley, Ms. McKinley.  But you still have so much potential."  I brought the last bit of cigarette to my lips and paused.
"He wouldn't want you to go down this path."
I laughed, "He was always offering me them.  He wanted me to be like him."  I frowned, "I finally am."
"Jane."  Our eyes met, "Do you honestly believe he would have asked you if he knew you would have said yes?"  We were silent for a moment.  The ask was building up.  "Well," she sighed, "My break is almost over.  Think about what you want, Jane."
And she clicked away in her red pumps.
Click
Click
Click.
I stared at the burning cigarette.
And then I felt it slip out of my fingers.
And I watched the ashes crumble against the cement.
And I brought my sneaker over it.
And I crunched it.

Dr. Hansen stopped at the door and looked at me.
And she smiled.