"If you resolve to give up smoking ... you don't actually live longer; it just seems longer." Clement Freud
Bobby's anger was soon replaced by an enormous sense of loss.
His empty hands roved restlessly around his desk seeking something- anything – to occupy them. All his pencils were sharpened, papers stacked then restacked, he'd made several paper clip chains and was working on a rubber band ball. Thumb tacks had been sorted into pots of similar colours, as had the highlighters and marker pens. Alex approved of all this industry – for once, his side of the desk was neater and more organised than hers. She was less keen on the almost constant clicking of his pen and was getting a little worried that the back of his neck was going to get sore from the way he kept rubbing it.
The pen was a mixed blessing for Bobby.
Holding it in that oh so familiar way felt strangely comforting but it was also a reminder that it wasn't just his hands that felt empty. After all, cigarettes wouldn't be harmful if all you did was hold them between your fingers. Time and time again, he brought the pen up to his mouth only to be disappointed that all he inhaled was air, except on one memorable occasion when it had been a mouthful of ink. Alex's snorts of laughter at his blue-stained lips had gone a long way to repair the breach made by his tantrums. He'd switched to pencils, but discovered that he ended up chewing them and that a tongue full of wood splinters was painful. Alex had taken great delight in offering him salt and vinegar flavoured chips after that episode.
Candy was out.
He was aware that the only reason he was not piling on the pounds was because he was constantly fidgeting, always on the lookout for something else to distract him and unable to settle long in any one place. Besides that, there was the vending machine: every time he walked past, or glanced in that direction, the 'Out of Order' sign mocked him – "No cigarettes for you! And no candy! What else are you going to have to do without?" – and his belly felt emptier, his hands felt emptier and his mouth felt emptier still.
Lollipops had seemed like a good idea.
Pure sugar on a stick; something to hold in his hands, something to work his mouth around, to give him a little buzz, something that lasted... Alex found it highly entertaining, barely suppressing her giggles as he waved the glistening pink ball at her to emphasise a point. She held out for two days until at last the urge became too great and she just had to say it:
"Who luvs ya, baby?"
The lollipops never appeared again.
Bobby switched to gum instead, and between that and the pen found a modicum of ease, even if his jaw had begun to ache and he felt like a cow chewing the cud.
This quest for distraction highlighted just how integral to his life cigarettes had become. Previously he had dwelt on those 'special' cigarettes but now he missed them all – constantly. Every part of his life felt like it lacked something.
Each action now seemed incomplete; reaching for the phone was no longer coupled with reaching for a cigarette, checking his pockets for keys and coins only highlighted the fact that cigarettes were missing from the triad, exiting 1PP left him feeling like there was something he hadn't done and he arrived there feeling unprepared.
Meals were enjoyable, especially now his taste buds had returned, but they never felt finished without a cigarette. A walk was a pleasure, particularly as he no longer was short of breath when tackling a steep incline, but what was the point when there wasn't a cigarette to savour when enjoying the view? Museums and galleries had lost none of their interest but they had lost the moments of contemplation stood outside while having a smoke. Books still thrilled him but he felt oddly off balance without a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
The days wore on and Bobby moped through them, consumed by a sense of deprivation. 'Battling addiction' sounded noble and heroic but in reality he was 'giving up' smoking. The definitions played on his mind; foregoing, forsaking, renouncing, yielding, surrendering, ceding and each felt like an act of betrayal to a long-term loyal companion.
He was bereft.
Alex looked at his hangdog expression, at drooping shoulders and dragging feet.
"Cheer up! It may never happen..."
As far as Bobby was concerned, it already had.