OCR Text |
Show 151 "She damn well wouldn't." She took a breath-suddenly almost coughing on the smoke; but no, she didn't, thank god-steadying herself: "But I'm still going to smoke." He was surprised at the authority in her voice. "Just like that, huh?" "Yep. Just like that." The cigarette was still trembling. She took a deep drag, to show him that yes, she knew how. He shook his head in disgust. And then crushed out his own cigarette- and suddenly conscious of it, looked up at her, a quick pain in his face. "Oh, don't blame yourself," Sharon said, "You didn't start me smoking. No more than anyone else did." "I can't believe that." She shrugged. "Don't. But it's true." He didn't believe her, it was in his face. "Look: no one's to blame for this," she held up the cigarette, "but me." He was beaten now, the resignation weighing down his face. He picked up his drink and took a long hard swallow. She had won. Her own actions, her self-assertion, surprised- and pleased-her. Yes, she had changed. She could not remember the exact moment when it occurred, any one specific incident. Rather, it almost seemed to have happened when she was sleeping. So that suddenly she woke up, and she was different. No longer was she so desperate, so unsure of herself. It was a good feeling, to realize that. |