Short story or something else. Never had work reviewed before- be kind!

Smoking

Craig crunched over the gravel to his friends’ front door. In truth it was his friends’ parents’ front door but that was just a technicality. Skipping up the two steps of the colonial porch, he pressed the button and waited as the “ding-dongs” faded. A light breeze played havoc with his long hair so he turned to face it, to tame the tussling strands. His back to the door, he looked up to watch the light wispy clouds above, skipping over the gently swaying and rustling pine trees. He knew that Adam would come to the door eventually so he didn’t ring again and anyway, it was the delightful time of year - the cusp of summer. There was still a slight chill in the air as spring slowly let go, adding the finishing touches to the life it had awoken in time for the summers’ heat and rain. The sound of his friend lolloping down the sweeping staircase that Craig knew led to the hallway and door pulled him, smiling, out of his reverie in time to turn to face the creaking open entrance and dim, age-musty hallway.

Adam bustled out, cigarette in mouth whilst putting his left arm into the arm hole of his tatty leather jacket. With a nod of his extravagantly hairy head in greeting, he heaved the large white front door closed behind him and sealed off the historic interior; every time they went through this ritual, Craig imagined he heard a hermetic hiss as the centuries old interior was clinically protected from the outside atmosphere.

“Make sure you are back by six and remember the milk!” came a reedy cry from within the gloomy depths of the house. Craig glanced toward the partially shuttered side panes at the sides of the door to see if Adams mum was in the dimly lit hallway. She wasn’t and he guessed she was in her usual spot, reading gardening magazines in the kitchen.

“Yes mum!” Adam growled back, trying hard not to drop or bite the precariously dangling ciggy which looked different to his usual brand- longer. “A’right Craig – let’s do one.”

The door finally clunked shut behind them as they turned and marched purposefully, side-by-side over the gravel to the driveway gates. When they were younger Adam would take great pains to conceal his smoking from his parents, waiting till they had power-walked up the street to the side alley that led up the hill near their houses- only then would he even try to extricate his cigarettes from the secret inside pocket of his beloved jacket. Secret, in this case, constituted a rather conspicuous tear in the blood red lining of his leather jacket through which Adam could drop cigarettes and lighter into the lining. It was, however, becoming less secret as time went by and the jacket deteriorated more and more; multiple arrow-slits were emerging inside his rock and roll armmour. These days Adams’ parents knew he smoked and routinely griped about it. This usually led to a rather inward looking and reticent mood that Craig soon learned to recognise in his friend and deal with accordingly- no questions about parents. Easier said than done at times and often Craig believed that Adam would take any topic, any subject at all, and deliberately work it back to something to do with how his parents nagged him about this or that.

“Beautiful day for our walk today, man.” smiled Craig as they turned the corner into the steeper side alley headed for Mackenzie Rise. Every day of the summer holidays this year had involved a stroll up this hill so Adam could smoke in peace and Craig could use him as a sounding board for his latest theories.

“I guess.” muttered Adam before lighting his cigarette. It wasn’t until this point that Craig realised the cigarette hadn’t been lit. Looking closer as they trudged up the hill, Craig could see the ciggy was definitely a lot longer and smelled a lot stronger.

“What you smoking, man?” Craig gestured slackly at the ciggy whilst trying to examine the bobbing stick more closely. Adam turned to face him and grinned for the first time that day – a strange light seemed to dance in his eyes as he bared his teeth clamped tightly over the filter.

“Only bloody 100’s mate.” Adam took the cigarette briefly out of his mouth to bring it closer to Craig’s puzzled face. “Almost twice as long and gives you a serious nicotine rush I tell ya.”

“Like you don’t smoke enough already?” Craig bobbed his head back away from the acrid smoke that had chosen a breeze to hitch a ride to his face; almost as if it was intentionally manipulating the weather itself in to have the chance of giving someone else cancer. Two for the price of one – bonus!

“Works out slightly cheaper because I will smoke less of ‘em because they are stronger, mate. Shit!” Adam had been too busy with the finer points of cheaper cancer creation to realise they had left the pavement and had moved onto the grassy, rocky path leading up the hill. Some loose stones and the fact Adam was trying to walk purposefully into the hill rather than up it sent him sprawling, like a commando dodging sniper fire.

“You alright?” Craig enquired whilst barely holding back the guffaws. “When are you going to get some boots with grips on them? You’ve had those bloody Docs for decades! Put them out of their misery before they get you killed!” Adam managed to string a whole variety of swear words together as he struggled to his feet and Craig could not hold back his laughter any longer. The sight of this 6ft 2inch punk rocker trying to regain his credibility and balance in skin tight jeans, held in place by an over-sized and gleaming bullet belt was pure comedy.

”You, my friend, can shut up!” stated Adam, finally regaining his footing. “Aw cock!” His shoulders slumped as he took his precious 100 cigarette from his mouth and held it forlornly before him at eye level. Half way along its’ length, the cigarette bent at a 45 degree angle, looking like one of those trees in pictures of atomic bomb blast tests; bits of its tobacco innards poked out crazily like splintered bark. Despite Adams request to “shut up”, the sight of Adams crestfallen expression brought tears to Craig’s eyes as he doubled over with laughter. After a few fruitless attempts to puff at the injured ciggy, Adam threw it to the ground in disgust and stomped hard upon it.

“Come on”, gasped Craig, slowly re-gaining his composure, “let’s get to the summit and get a seat.” Adam lifted his left foot and flicked smouldering tobacco from the smoothly worn sole of his Doc Martens before grunting agreement and following Craig up the slope. “Lucky none of the wee shits from down the road were there to see you fall- would never hear the end of it.” Craig squinted towards the road end behind them to ensure he hadn’t inadvertently given the signal for them to leap from cover and charge at them.

This town was not a large one and people who dressed other than the expected Chinos and casual shirts stood out. Craig also had a leather jacket and even a denim jacket covered in Iron Maiden patches when he was younger but he was tame compared to Adam. You could never be sure what you would get when you rang his doorbell- Mohawk haircut, dreadlocks, shaved head, face full of piercings or a World War Two German Artilleryman jacket (complete with bullet hole). Anybody who didn’t know him could find Adam intimidating. Most other people were unaware of his musical genius, complete lack of common-sense, deep love of his family and total inability to use a can opener- Adam was only ever a danger to himself.