I leaned over the side of the counter, gazing quietly into the mists of the evening moonlight. Distant and wonderful as it was, I found my gaze drifting again and again to the front door. She was out late again. She always was. A siren's call to an underground world made up of pretty lights and new sensations. I often found myself waiting up for her. I don't know why. I sleep better when she's home, I suppose.
A clock chimed somewhere in the house. I drew up a box from the corner drawer. A junk drawer. Every kitchen's got a junk drawer. At least, that's what she'd said. That's where I kept them these days. A little box of comfort. If I could, I would quit. Don't think I haven't tried. She nags me about it all the time. Hates to see my 'smokey smiles', but I know that her clubs, and concerts aren't even close to innocent. Usually, she lets up. Since it was fifteen past the hour now, and she wasn't home, she couldn't get angry at me.
I pulled the cigarette past my lips and took in the scent of tobacco. It always relaxed me. Made me think of home. Home. Father was a cellist. He would often sit and smoke for long hours while he would fill the house with music. And so, I took it upon myself to become one, too. He demanded so much from me when I was little. I remember mother scolding him for not letting me play with the other kids outside. Not that I cared much for the outside anyway. I wanted Daddy to be proud of me. So I practiced. And I practiced. And I practiced and practiced and practiced. Then, one day I won a competition. I had stood on stage in front of the world, and I played my heart out, and when I walked back up to that stage when they called my name because I had won the whole thing? He had the earnest look of joy in his features. He was proud. At that point I was addicted to music much like my partner in crime.
I peered into the darkness, sucking the cigarette into my mouth, while I struck a match. That had always delighted me. Fire, bursting into existence, exploding in a miniature firework. I suppose it's the tradition that makes me fond of it. I had always enjoyed listening to father play when I was younger, and he'd enjoy a long smoke, before every one of his sessions. I suppose I follow in his hoofsteps too well.
The first drag is always the best. It calms and relaxes. Takes away the most tension. I savior the heedy scent of smoke in my nostrils. Let it roll around in my sinuses before I blow it out into nothingness. I wonder if she ever thinks about her parents. She hardly ever talks about them and all I really know is she had a rough time with her father. He was a bit of a brute, as I am to believe.
I should quit smoking. Again. I sighed and focused in on the burning embers at the end of my cig, disappearing into the swallowing darkness of the studio. I reached for the box again. When was the last time I'd taken Vinyl out? Ha. Already trying to figure out how I can make up for the cigarette. Or this second one. She'll be mad. No doubt. Sure she's fun loving, and care free, but she can become the intimidating sort when upset.
But that was important. Taking her out. We haven't done anything together in a while. It's hard to find time between recording albums, and Canterlot Concerts. I suppose we have to make time. Isn't that the point of life? Making time for the things that are important to you? I quietly blew out another breath of smoke.
She was important to me. Father didn't care much for the dubstep aspect of her life, when he met her. I don't think he likes her at all, to be absolutely honest. But Father accepted her for two reasons. Her life was about music, and she made me smile. He was strict and stern, but I never got the impression he felt anything but love for me. And I have nothing but love for her.
I lean back in my seat as the door opens up. I glance at her. She glances at me and frowns at the wisps of smoke slithering around my frame. I pressed through it and meandered up to her. I didn't say a word, just wrapped my arms around her and hugged her quietly. I could feel her smiling against me before I let go. That's the kind of relationship we had. We didn't have to say anything. She was upset about the cigarette, but touched I stayed up for her. I didn't need to. I had no reason to, other than I missed her, I suppose.
"Coming to bed?" She asked. I murmured something in agreement. She'd make me brush my teeth before I got into bed with her. I took my last pull of the cigarette and blew it out my nose. I guess this time is really just for me. Life gets so busy and hectic and impossible, sometimes the only thing you can do is make a moment for yourself and savior it. I stuffed my cigarette under the sink, before flicking the butt into the garbage.
Life began again. I realized my moment was over as the smoke faded away, and stole away my thoughts with it, leaving me in the dark with Vinyl waiting for me in a warm bed. Though my moment was gone, it left me with a realization.
I'm happy.
Author's Note
Just remember to make a moment for yourself.
