Clove Smoke



Aurora always bought her cigarettes in Chinatown. It was just the way things were done. You couldn't get the price or the selection anywhere else, especially for clove kreteks.

At least, when you had the money.

Aurora looked in her wallet, then hunted through the bottom of her purse. All in all, she had seventy-nine cents: two quarters, a dime, a nickel and a handful of pennies.

Cheap and good as they were, that still wouldn't cover it. She considered briefly whether it would be possible to scrounge a bit more from friends, but she didn't really know anyone in this part of town. Mother didn't approve. And as for lifting a pack... Well, the shopkeeper was watching her like a hawk, like all the old Chinese guys—browsing didn't seem to be a custom in Asia—and anyway, he kept the cigarettes and candy right by the counter where he could watch them.

But damn it—she really wanted a kretek. That's what the clove cigarettes were called, clove kreteks, and you got the best ones from Indonesia. And you bought them in Chinatown.

When you had the money.

She wandered towards the back of the shop, hoping she could spot a tourist's dropped quarter or two, but the shop was clean and neat with little shelves with everything in its place, green plastic Buddhas and pink plastic Quan Yins, cheap silk kimonos wrapped in cellophane, pincushions in the shape of peaches with peasant children playing ring-around-the-rosie (or whatever the Chinese name for it was) around them. At last Aurora came to the altar in the back.

Every good Chinatown shop had one, with a bowl of grapefruits (though she had no idea why the gods liked grapefruit), long sticks of incense, candles, and either Ho Ti, the potbellied god of luck, or the calico "Hello Kitty"-type cat statue with one paw up and a coin in the other. This shop, apparently hoping to cover all bases, had both, along with a paper lantern with a spray of pink flowers tied to the handle. Aurora remembered her mother's Japanese flower arranging classes and after a moment identified them—peonies—though she couldn't remember what they symbolized.

And there, just under the lantern, was a pack of kreteks, half open, purple and gold foil shimmering in the soft light, one smoke pulled out just a little, inviting.

It was instinct. Aurora dropped her purse, glad she hadn't gotten a metal lunchpail like the rest of the girls in the scene, and as she bent down to get it, quickly and quietly palmed the pack.

She slipped it into her purse, feeling a twinge of guilt. But oh well, if the gods really smoked, they knew what it was like to need a fix, and if they didn't, they wouldn't care.

Aurora wandered about the shop a bit more, just to seem polite, then left. "Come again!" she shopkeeper called, and Aurora set off down the street. She had one hand in her purse on the pack of kreteks, but didn't pull one out until she'd rounded the corner onto Jackson and put her back up against the wall.

She had one out in a second and in her mouth, tasting the sweet oil already, and she fumbled through the bottom of her purse for some matches.

"Need a light?"

The flame was the first thing she saw, then the hand, then a pleasant-looking Asian guy, just about her age. Aurora jumped, then took the cigarette out of her mouth. "Jeez, you startled me."

"Me?" the guy said. "You're the one dressed like a ghost."

Aurora grimaced. "It's called 'the Goth look.'" She put the kretek back in her mouth and leaned down, sucking in the flame from his lighter. The cloves caught, tougher to light than regular tobacco from all the oil, but then she leaned back, letting the smoke curl lazily around her tongue with a taste like gingerbread and holiday spice. "Haven't you seen it before?"

He smiled. "Been out of town for a while. Everything changes when you get back. Spare one of those?"

He was cute, very polite and American sounding--first gen Chinatown unless Aurora missed her guess--and he was dressed in beat-up camouflage fatigues. Probably why she hadn't seen him at first in the twilight. "Sure. Not mine anyway." Aurora fingered out a kretek and handed it to him. He accepted with a grateful nod, then leaned down and lit it from his own lighter, still burning. Only once the kretek was firmly alight did he let the cap snap shut, snuffing the flame.

He sucked on his kretek, the cherry glowing in the twilight, and Aurora took a drag as well, for a moment sharing the camaraderie of two fellow addicts.

"Hard to get these when you're out there," he said.

Army boy, Aurora translated. "Tell me about it." She took another puff. "Back from maneuvers?"

"Yeah." He smiled around the kretek, holding it between his teeth, then took it out. "My dad has a shop around here. Was thinking of stopping by."

Aurora smiled back. "Not a bad idea." She extended her hand then, wrist up, Victorian-style. "Aurora." He grabbed it in a regular handshake, giving a firm squeeze that pressed her lace glove into her flesh. "Jimmy. Jimmy Wang. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Very military. Just out of boot camp, unless she missed her guess, though with a certain...maturity...you didn't usually get with army boys. Elite forces? "And a pleasure to make yours, Jimmy." She took another drag, holding it, then let it out. "Any plans this evening?"

"Besides checking in on my dad?" He shrugged. "Just wandering, I guess."

"Well," Aurora said, reaching into her purse, "if you happen to wander over to the vicinity of Ninth and Howard--and want another kretek--then you might just drop into Bedlam." So saying, she handed him the club flyer, black ink on green posterstock.

He peered at the dark gothic lettering. "What's Bedlam?"

"It's a hell for little girls who steal cigarettes." Aurora smiled, but couldn't keep a straight face very long. "Actually, it's a Goth club. Goth, Industrial, retro-New Wave 80s. Wolf and Lucretia keep the mix interesting, and it's a better intro to the scene for newbies than Winter."

"Just might see you there," Jimmy said, taking another drag of his kretek. "One more for the road?"

Aurora laughed. "Sure." She slipped out another and handed it to him, but when she looked back up, he was gone. "Damn, " Aurora swore. "That's some damn good camo."

#

Bedlam was still the usual, the regulars playing pool or video games or chatting while they waited for things to really get kicking downstairs, and Alphonse (Albert to those who really knew) had shown up just long enough to pay Aurora's cover charge and slip her the ten he owed her. And now he was off to flirt with Felicia, who'd just turned twenty-one, and so there was no escaping her at any of the clubs. And ever since her little coup with the mime act, she'd been insufferable, and worse yet, had taken Alphonse.

Aurora wanted to get very drunk and cry, but she didn't have enough money for the first, and the second would ruin her make-up. It really was hell.

"Buy you a drink?" Jimmy materialized at her elbow, his camo almost uncanny in the dim light of the bar.

Aurora had almost been expecting that, but breathed a sigh of relief once the shock wore off. "Sure. Get yourself one too. They make 'em good here."

Jimmy took the stool next to her, leaning on the bar. "What's strongest?"

Aurora shrugged. "Long Islands, or one of the specials. They've got a new one called 'Barbary Coast Punch.' It's like high-octane Hi-C."

"Sounds good. Bartender, two of what the lady said." He flipped a twenty onto the bar, and the bartender caught it up, slipping it back atop the till and making the drinks with her usual precision and elegance.

Aurora handed him a kretek. "This what you're looking for?"

He took it, smiling around it as he lit up. Jimmy took a long drag, then said, "This, and a girl dressed in black."

"Well, you found both of them."

Their drinks were set down next to them, and Jimmy held up his hand to the bartender. "Keep the change."

She paused, then smiled and nodded thanks, furling the ten around her fingers and slipping it into the tip jar before going off to tend to other customers.

Jimmy shrugged and grinned, looking to Aurora. "My dad sends me lots of cash. Not much to spend it on out there, and there's rules and regulations for everything I want to bring back. Cigarettes are worth a lot more." He took his out of his mouth, then leaned over and took a sip of his drink. "You're right," he said after a moment. "Mom didn't serve Hawaiian Punch like this."

"Glad you like it. My mom makes a pretty mean champagne punch, but then you have to go to one of her parties to get it."

"Boring?"

Aurora grimaced. "Words would not describe." She finished her kretek and stubbed it out, taking out another. "I do not know how many times I've had to play 'Für Elise' for the guests.

Jimmy laughed. "And I thought I had it bad with my mom's sushi. Made MREs taste great in comparison."

"I kind of like sushi."

"You haven't had my mom's. Yeck!" He made a retching noise, then took another drag of his kretek and sip of his drink as if to wash away the taste of the memory. "Makes fish bait look good in comparison. Which is pretty much what it is. But my dad's Chinese and does a pretty mean stir fry. Though I really miss American burgers."

"They've got 'em here, if you wait past two and it's a good night."

"Good burgers?"

Aurora held up her hand and waffled it. "Okay. Good for club food. But the fries and zucchini are pretty tasty." She took out another kretek. "Got another light?"

Jimmy didn't take out his lighter, but smiled back around his cigarette, the cherry a glowing dot in the center of his face. Aurora put the kretek between her lips and leaned over, sucking in as they touched, her kretek flaring alight in a smokers' kiss.

She leaned back then, feeling very cine noire. "Care to go downstairs?"

Jimmy smiled, "Sure," and Aurora led him down into the depths of the club.

Wolf had put on Tom Waits' "Singapore," deep and jazz-funky. Not your usual fare for a Goth club, but then Bedlam wasn't the usual club. Aurora crossed the floor with Jimmy, threading the way between the dancers, to get to one of the little tables in the alcove behind it.

Jimmy sat down on the stool, looking up at the brickwork of the arch. "Old place."

"Yeah." Aurora took another sip of her drink, considering. "May even go back to when these are from--Barbary Coast."

Jimmy shook his head. "Before my time, I'm afraid. But you hear stories when you're out there." He glanced at her, smiling, and took another drag of his kretek. "So this is the hell for little girls who steal cigarettes?"

Aurora took a drag on her own, letting the clove smoke linger on her tongue. "Guess so."

He laughed. "Dad never listed that in all the Chinese hells, but I guess there's room for everything. Got another?"

He was smoking them faster than she was, and that was a trick. "Sure." Aurora took out another and handed it too him. "Remember, though: These are stolen."

Jimmy shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Makes 'em taste sweeter." He lit up, taking another sweet puff of clove smoke. "Anyway, I forgive you. Not as if I never stole anything in my life."

"Honor among thieves," Aurora laughed, and finished her drink just as Tom Waits gave way to Siouxsie, "The Killing Jar." She stood up and offered her hand. "Care to?"

Jimmy finished his drink with a rattle of ice and stood up, staggering slightly. "What the hell. Don't think the moves have changed that much."

It was a blast. One song segued to another, and they paused only for drinks or for another kretek or two, Jimmy's camo almost invisible on the dancefloor amid the mirrors and spangling disco lights. No one asked who he was, and no other girl put the moves on him. Hers alone, at least for tonight.

Last call came, then the last hour when there was nothing to drink but water, alongside french fries and burgers from the kitchen upstairs. But there were still cloves to smoke and keep them just a little high until at last they were turned out and stood alone on Howard Street. "Thanks," Jimmy said, "I had a great evening."

"Me too."

"Walk you home?"

Aurora laughed. "This neighborhood? My mom's place is all the way up in Pacific Heights. Need to call a cab."

Jimmy smiled. "Let me." He put up one arm and halload out, and a cab pulled up, almost like magic.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"The lady knows," Jimmy said, opening the door for her.

"Listen," Aurora said, pausing with one hand on the doorframe, "if you'd like to get together again, I'll be here next Thursday."

Jimmy smiled sadly. "Can't stay that long. Going back soon. But here," He took out the club flier she'd given him, "if you want to get hold of me, drop by my dad's shop. Here's the address." He scribbled something on the back, then handed it to her, folded up.

Aurora smiled and slipped it in her pocket, then took her cigarette out of her mouth. Jimmy did the same with his, and lips parted, they had a long kiss, sweet with the taste of clove smoke.

Then Jimmy stepped back. "Gotta go. See ya, Aurora. It was great." He handed the driver at least a couple of twenties. "Take the lady wherever she wants to go, and keep the change. Don't need it much where I'm going."

"Cigarettes are worth more," Aurora completed the thought, and handed him the pack and the last kretek as he shut the door. "See ya, Jimmy."

The cab pulled away, and Jimmy's camo faded away until it blended in to the brickwork of the old Phillips Hotel. Aurora took a puff of her last clove. It had been a great evening.

#

The next afternoon, Aurora went back to Chinatown, checking the address that Jimmy had written on the back of the club flier. Spotting numbers was tough on Grant Avenue, but at last she came to it, and Aurora stopped, then had to laugh. The cigarette shop. The shop she always got her kreteks at. Jimmy's dad had to be the old guy who ran the place,

and easy guess, but Jimmy had been there, hidden in his camo, when she pinched the cigarettes from the altar the day before. But it was a good joke, and he'd been cool about it. Most guys in Chinatown would be too uptight about something like that.

She went in, but the old man wasn't at the counter. He was towards the back, near the altar, but immediately turned around as she came up the aisle. "May I help you?"

"Pack of the usual." Aurora held out the ten Alphonse had given her the night before, none of which she'd had to spend.

"Do you want a bag?" the old man asked as he rang up her purchase.

"Nah," Aurora said. She took her change, then undid the cellophane at the top of the pack and pulled open the purple and gold foil. "Is Jimmy around?"

The old man paused. "Jimmy?" He turned a little pale, then said, "I'm sorry, miss. The only Jimmy who has ever been here is my son, and he died in Vietnam." He pointed back to the altar. "Yesterday my wife placed out the lantern for the Festival of Bon, the time of returning souls. I'm sorry. You must have come to the wrong shop."

Aurora paused, one cigarette halfway out of the pack, then she walked back to the rear of the shop.

On the altar was the lantern with the branch of peony flowers, and there, glass flickering in the light and shadow, was a photograph. He was in military dress uniform, not camo, but there was no mistaking. It was the same Jimmy. The same one she'd danced with and kissed the night before.

The old man came over next to her, placing a stack of origami gold coins onto the altar beside the photograph. "Hell money," he explained. "We believe that the spirits of the departed can spend it in the next world."

Aurora looked at it, then leaned down and set the pack of kreteks beside it. "Cigarettes'll buy you more. Trust me on this."

The old man looked at her, then at the peony lantern and the pack of kreteks, and nodded slowly. Aurora kissed her fingertips and touched them to the cheek of the photograph. "Had a great night, Jimmy. See ya."

Not sure of her feet, Aurora left the shop, feeling the cool rain of tears down her cheeks, and still tasting the spicy sweetness of clove smoke.

First published in Permission #8


by Kevin Andrew Murphy