Just One More.

Martin coughed and spluttered, pulling and tugging at his oxygen mask.

Anna poured a glass of water from the jug by the side of his bed.

“Here you are Dad, drink this.”

She carefully removed the mask for him, holding the glass up to his mouth.

“Thank you,” he gasped.

She put down the glass and tried re-fitting the mask. Martin held onto her hand to stop her.

“No! Let me… just for a minute… please leave it.”

Anna sat back down in her chair shaking her head.

“It won’t do you any good Dad. You heard what the doctors said. You’re lungs are not strong enough for you to breath un-aided. Please, put the mask back on.”

Martin held the mask onto his face and stared up at the ceiling from his hospital bed.

Since being admitted, the cancer had taken hold much quicker than the doctors had predicted. There was nothing left to do except slowly drown in daytime television, put on a brave face for his loved ones and wait patiently for death to honour him with an express visit.

Anna smiled helplessly at the weak figure laid out before her, leaning forward to hold his hand.

“If only we could go back Dad, you know; do it all again. I wouldn’t let a single cigarette anywhere near you.”

Martin held the mask away from his face again.

“Hey, don’t you go blaming yourself! I couldn’t bear it. No-one held a gun to my head to make me smoke thirty a day. It was my decision.”

Anna stood up and gave him a kiss.

“I’ve got to go Dad. Me, Mum and Jack will be back later to see you. Is there anything that I can bring you?”

“Another chance,” he silently thought shaking his head.

Martin fell asleep for a while, and as he started to wake up, he heard a light scraping noise. Opening his eyes, there was a man mopping the floor.

“Sorry my friend, did I wake you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Martin replied with his muffled voice, “sleep or awake, It makes no difference to me anymore.”

The man stood, leaning on his mop.

“So tell me, what’s your story my friend?”

“Too many cigarettes. That’s my story.”

The man removed a packet of Marlboro from his top pocket, and looked at them smiling.

“I gave these up many years ago.”

Martin pulled the mask away from his face and sat up in bed looking mystified.

“If you gave up smoking, why do you carry those around?”

“To face my fears. When we give something up: stop a habit, we often fear it. We fear going near it, and fear being around others who don’t. This way, If I keep my enemy with me all of the time, there are no surprises.”

The man passed the packet to Martin, who then held it, examining it, as though it was the first time he had ever laid eyes on a packet of cigarettes.

“You’re lucky. I wish I’d met you twenty years ago.”

The man sat on the edge of his bed and held out his hand.

“I’m James; James Stevens. I’m pleased to meet you.”

Martin took some more breaths of oxygen before replying.

“I’m Martin; Martin Owen.”

James took back the packet and thought for a moment.

“You know what? I always think: It’s never too late.”

Martin laughed which caused him to start coughing, finally stopping with a large sigh, and gasping again at the oxygen.

“Well, I can assure you James, that even though I’m only fifty two, it is definitely too late for me.”

“Hmm, perhaps; perhaps not. One thing I do know though: It’s never too late to face your fears.”

James took a cigarette from the packet and offered it to Martin.

“If you were miraculously cured, hypothetically speaking of course, and someone offered you one of these, would you smoke it?”

“Never!” Martin shouted, coughing again and throwing the cigarette back at him.

“Hmm, ok. Well, we’ll see.”

James held the cigarette and crushed it in his hand. There was an immediate bright flash, and Martin was now sitting outside alone.

He sat for what seemed a lifetime, stunned, too frightened to move. Eventually he slowly looked around and recognised his surroundings as his back garden. He was sitting at his garden table holding a glass of bear.

“I think you nodded off for a minute sweetheart,” a familiar female voice said.

Startled, he looked behind him.

“Sue?”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out. If you want a snooze put your drink down. You’ll drop it if you’re not careful.”

His wife sat down, putting a cup of tea down on the table, then opened a wedding magazine and started reading it.

After a few minutes she looked up from her magazine. Martin was staring at her with a strange expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, putting her magazine down.

“I… I just had the weirdest dream!”

“What happened?”

“I was lying in a hospital bed with lung cancer. I had an oxygen mask on. I was waiting to die.” He looked down at the packet of cigarettes on the table.

Sue could see that he was shaken, so put a comforting hand on his knee, smiling.

“It’s only a dream.”

He looked down at the packet of cigarettes again.

“Do you think I should give up smoking? I know I’ve spoken about it for years, but I’ll be fifty three soon. Maybe my luck’s running out.”

Sue picked up the magazine again and started flicking through the pages with an annoyed expression.

“You know how I feel about smoking Martin, and we have had the ‘Giving Up’ chat so many times. If you want to give up then do it, besides, I have enough to worry about with Anna’s wedding. It will be here before you know it.”

Martin decided to stay silent at this point. He remembered the ‘Giving Up’ chats, and how they often ended up in an argument. Besides, he knew that Sue was right. It would be up to him to make that decision on his own and didn’t require any more discussion. He looked down at the packet on the table and reached out for it; then stopped. Ironically, even though he was sitting there thinking about giving up smoking, his body was telling him that he needed a cigarette. His hand hovered over the pack; then moved away.

Sue looked up and dropped the magazine into her lap. She then grabbed the packet and opened it, offering it to Martin.

“For god sake Martin! I have accepted it; your son has accepted it; even your, soon to be married, daughter has accepted it: You will never give up smoking. Now stop torturing yourself and take one.”

Martin watched the pack as she waved it left and right in front of his face, taunting him with it.

“Maybe just one more?” he thought biting his lip, “then that’s it.”

He reached out, guiltily, and pulled out a cigarette, putting it in his mouth.

A flash of light, and Martin became aware of that familiar claustrophobic feeling that the oxygen mask created. He was back in his hospital bed.

He looked around the room and stopped as his eyes met James. He was cleaning the windows.

“Hey buddy, you nodded off for a while there. It sounded like you were dreaming; anything good?”

Martin stared at him for a few seconds, squinting his eyes suspiciously.

“What did you do?” Martin wheezed, “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean: What am I doing?” James smaned, “I’m a Janitor. I clean things. That’s what I do.”

Martin forced himself to sit up in bed, coughing and spluttering.

“You know what I mean! What happened when you crushed that cigarette?”

James walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I asked you a question: “If you were miraculously cured, and someone offered you a cigarette, would you smoke it? and you replied, ‘No.’ I was just curious to see if you meant it.”

“But… but I… I did mean it! It was going to be my last one.”

“That’s not entirely true though, is it Martin? Let me spell it out for you: You wanted to change a bad situation, but as soon as you thought you were safe, you couldn’t be bothered anymore. Don’t beat yourself up over it. That’s what most people do.”

James got up and went to leave the room.

“No! I can change!”

“Listen Martin, you’re a smashing guy, but you just have to except that you didn’t want it that much, that’s all.”

“Please James,” Martin pleaded, “if you give me another chance I promise I won’t let you down.”

James stopped in the doorway and thought for a moment, then turned to face Martin, holding a single cigarette with both hands.

“It is rather irregular, but I suppose we could try one last time.”

As he snapped the tube of tobacco in two, there was a bright flash, and Martin’s surroundings changed. He was outside a church.

“Thanks for all this Dad,” Anna said hugging him, “I suppose we had better go inside now. Everyone is waiting.”

“You’re… getting married!?”

Anna raised her eyebrows and laughed.

“Funny Dad, very funny! I think it would be better to save the jokes for the speech, don’t you?”

With adrenaline racing around his body, Martin proudly walked his daughter up the aisle, trying desperately to hold back his tears. The feeling of being able to breathe un-aided was amazing enough, but to actually see his daughter married was a very emotional experience, and something that he never imagined witnessing. He could feel life itself coursing through his veins and he didn’t want the feeling to end.

As they approached the smiling Vicar, Martin looked over at his wife and they grinned at each other.

“This is it!” He thought. “This sums up everything that is important to me and I’m not letting go without a fight.”

At the reception, Martin stumbled through his ad-lib speech: Embarrassing stories of when his daughter was a little girl, but mostly expressing his heartfelt pride about the person that she had grown into, and candidly explaining how he was so grateful for being able to see her wedding day. It was perfect.

“That was some speech Dad,” Jack said, proudly slapping Martin on the back later in the evening, “Anna was mortified by some of those stories. She spent most of the speech hiding her face with embarrassment. It was hilarious!”

“Thanks Son,” Martin laughed, “now, how about a drink?”

“Yes sure Dad, but how about a fag first? We’re not allowed to smoke in here.”

Martin suddenly became stuck to the floor. A tingle engulfed his entire body as though someone had stepped over his grave.

“Are you ok Dad? You’ve gone very pale.”

Martin quickly pulled himself together. He knew that it was out of the question to even consider explaining anything about what had, or hadn’t, happened to him that day. He didn’t even understand it himself.

“Yes of course Jack, let’s go outside.”

They walked over to a garden wall in the hotel grounds and sat down. Jack removed a packet of cigarettes from his inside pocket, and removed two, putting one in his mouth, and holding the other out to his father.

Martin, stony faced, took the cigarette and watched Jack light up his own, then inhaling and giving a big sigh of relief.

“What’s up Dad? Why haven’t you lit yours?”

“I’m giving up.”

“You’re kidding! You? Giving up smoking?”

“Let’s just say that someone offered me some advice today: A chance to clean up my life.”

“Wow! I wish I could do the same Dad. Maybe… maybe I could make this my last one? What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea Son. How about we end this together?”

Martin held up his cigarette holding it with two hands, and Jack smiled and did the same, both snapping them at the same time.

Jack stood up and started walking back to join the party.

“Mum’s calling us. It sounds like they’re about to cut the cake Dad. Come on.”

“I’ll be there in a minute Jack. You go in.”

Martin sat for a couple of minutes thinking about the former events of the day. Had it been real?
Was he still lying in a hospital bed somewhere?

As he sat pondering, he heard a faint brushing noise getting closer and closer.

“Hey Buddy, how are feeling?”

“James? What are you doing here?”

James laughed and leaned on his broom.

“Oh just cleaning up as usual. Although I think I’m nearly done here.”

Martin stood up and looked James square in the eye.

“You’re here to take me away; aren’t you!”

“You’re ready now Martin. You don’t belong here.”

Martin started pacing around rubbing his hands together.

“Just promise me something.”

“Ok Martin. What?”

“That you watch over my family for me. Would you do that?”

James walked over and put his hands on Martin’s shoulders.

“Why on earth would I need to do that? That’s your job. Now, I will count down from five, and as I do so, you will slowly wake up. You will feel refreshed and will remember everything that has happened. Five… Four… Three… Two… One… and awake.”

Martin’s blurry eyes slowly opened. He recognised the room and the leather couch that he was lying on, and he recognised the face looking at him.”

“How are you feeling Martin?”

“I feel a bit confused. That was quite a trip you took me on this time Dr Stevens. It felt so real.”

“Don’t worry about the confusion Martin, it will pass. I’m sorry to put you through that, but you were a very heavy smoker. You needed the most powerful hypnotherapy course that we provide. I took you twenty years into your future. One was a bad reality; the other a good one. You chose wisely. You will not smoke again.”

Leaving the hypnotherapy clinic, he walked over to the waiting car outside. Sue leaned over and opened the passenger door for him, and he climbed in. In the back seat was five year old Anna, and her little brother Jack.

“Well?” Sue asked, “was that the last session?”

“Yes it was Sue, and a freaky one at that. I wouldn’t smoke again now. I feel as though he really did clean up my life. He gave me a second chance.”

Martin took the packet of Marlboro from the dash board and slipped it into his top pocket.

“Aren’t you going to throw them away?”

“No. it’s important that I face my fears. When we give something up: stop a habit, we often fear it. We fear going near it, and fear being around others who don’t. This way, If I keep my enemy with me all of the time, there are no surprises.”

“I’m so very proud of you sweetheart,” Sue said starting the car, “just think, at least the children will be far less likely to smoke.”

“Yes indeed. Anna is a good girl, and Jack’s given up smoking now anyway.”

“Given up?” Sue asked, looking in the back seat at the little boy.

“It’s a long story Sue, a very long story.”