No Smoking

I stopped my car in front of Kim’s Florist. How fast does time fly. Felicia likes the bouquets they sell most. She said they were much fresher, and were more elegantly arranged.

I chuckled under my breath.

I knew how she liked her flowers arranged. The colours had to be just nice, not too colourful nor too dull. The flowers have to be of the right size, and there must be at least nine violets. To symbolize September, the month we were both born. So sweet.

I walked into the florist.

Today is her birthday. I remember this day, exactly twelve years ago, when I first met her. We both were taking our driving test. There she was, a sweet and cute girl, sobbing pitifully because she failed her test.

Fast forward seven years, and there she was, being walked down the aisle with her father. All these were memories, distant but clear…

I paid for the bouquet, and turned to leave. Behind me, an old couple was having a heated argument. As I walked past them, I heard what they were saying.

‘George, how many times must I tell you not to smoke!? Can you please not smoke!!?’

I stopped in my tracks. A tsunami of sadness crashed into me…

* * *

Felicia was a sweet girl. She was good-tempered and patient, not to mention being very caring towards her friends and families. However, she whose father had passed away due to lung cancer was extremely stringent when it comes to smoking. Anyone who smoked in front of her would immediately get a severe tongue trashing.

Of course, there was an exception. Me.

She loved me so much that she would let me off the hook when I took one or two puffs. I told her I was trying to kick the habit, yet she didn’t know I was puffing away like nobody’s business at my workplace.

She did attempt to reason me out a few times, but I just laughed her words off.

“Gilbert, can you please not smoke anymore?” she had asked me nicely but…

“Erm Felicia, can you not play the piano?” I replied cheekily.

She grumbled but didn’t say anything more. I knew I would win; she gave in to me too much. Yet I didn’t feel elated at all. Something in her expression bothered me much.

How I was to know that was the last time she would tell me not to smoke….

In the few days that followed, I continued to smoke in the house. The feeling was heavenly. Have you ever filled your house with the sweet scent of burning tobacco before? Well, that was it. Alluring.

I smoked when I read the papers. When I watched football. And even when I ate. Felicia didn’t say anything and I felt guilty. However, I thought she was using the old ‘make-him-feel-guilty’ routine again. So I wasn’t that perturbed by it.

Until she collapsed at the dinner table.

Lung cancer.

Why must every story end in the same way? Why? WHY!?

I could do nothing but to stay by her side for the remaining two months of her life. Seeing her lifeless body in the hospital ward, my heart was crushed. Into thousands, no, millions of pieces. Looking at her suffering I could never forgive myself, just for the fact that I was the one who brought death to her…

She passed away. During her final moments, she did all she could to keep me from being sad. Typical Felicia. Trying to give me the best even though she was suffering. I was in total agony, but I kept the smile plastered to my face. No, I didn’t want her to be sadder.

She told me she didn’t forbid me from smoking anymore. I couldn’t reply her. In spite of everything that made her body fragile and weak, she didn’t care about anything but to make me happy.

I knew it was too late; that nothing I could have done would bring her back again.

* * *

I snapped out from my reverie. Turning to George, I said, ‘for you not to regret; for you not to harm your loved ones, don’t smoke.’

I have never touched a cigarette since the day she collapsed on the dinner table.

Felicia, I love you.