{"id":16502,"date":"2021-01-26T05:00:04","date_gmt":"2021-01-26T10:00:04","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bullmensfiction.com\/?p=16502"},"modified":"2022-08-03T13:12:06","modified_gmt":"2022-08-03T17:12:06","slug":"if-youve-got-a-light","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/if-youve-got-a-light\/","title":{"rendered":"If You&#8217;ve Got a Light"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Callum kicked the snow and cursed under his breath, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth, stuck to his chapped lower lip. He&#8217;d forgotten both his matches and his wallet upstairs.<\/p>\n<p>It was cold, but he didn&#8217;t want to go back inside. Not yet. He craved the respite of smoke diffusing through his lungs, imagined it hitting him hard on an empty stomach. Maybe he shouldn&#8217;t have brought up the issue until after dinner.<\/p>\n<p>He pulled up the collar of his woolen coat and crossed his arms. Fat white snowflakes floated rather than fell, making everything seem slow, suspended in time.<\/p>\n<p>A man in a puffy red jacket and a black cap emerged from the corner store half a block away. Callum wondered if he should go there and ask the store clerk for some matches. It was worth a shot.<\/p>\n<p>The man in the puffy jacket looked unsteady, swaying back and forth. As Callum approached, the man raised his eyes, and Callum instantly recognized him. A young boy, dressed in red, singing at the top of his lungs in the choir of the church Callum had attended with family as a child.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Billy?&#8221; Callum placed a hand on the man&#8217;s back. &#8220;Are you OK?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Callum?&#8221; Billy&#8217;s eyes were bloodshot, but he smiled broadly and extended his hand. &#8220;How&#8217;s it going? Haven&#8217;t seen you in a while.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Yeah, I moved away. Years ago.&#8221; Callum shook Billy&#8217;s hand. &#8220;I&#8217;m just here to see Mom for the holidays. How&#8217;ve you been?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Not too bad, man, not too bad,&#8221; Billy said. &#8220;Just&#8230; Some days are not great, you know?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Callum smelled alcohol on Billy&#8217;s breath.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I remember you from the choir,&#8221; Callum said. &#8220;You were a star in those crimson robes.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Billy winced. &#8220;The choir? Man, that was ages ago.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;So, you still sing?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;A little, sometimes. On the weekends, at a club downtown.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Not the church choir?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Billy seemed puzzled. &#8220;No, not the church.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Why not?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Billy looked Callum in the eye, held the gaze for a long moment, a moment that felt like it would spill into words.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve been gone a really long time, man.&#8221; Billy looked away. &#8220;Guess you haven&#8217;t heard.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;What? What happened?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Never mind.&#8221; Billy turned back toward Callum. &#8220;Now, do you have one of those for me?&#8221; He pointed at the cigarette still hanging off Callum&#8217;s lips.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Oh!&#8221; Callum felt like he&#8217;d just snapped out of a trance. &#8220;Yeah, sure.&#8221; He grabbed the loose cigarette from his mouth, pulled a pack from his pocket with the other hand, and offered it to Billy. &#8220;But only if you&#8217;ve got a light, \u2018cause I got nothing.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Sure I do.&#8221; Billy tapped the cigarette pack until one slid partly out and into his hand. He put it in his mouth, then returned the pack to Callum, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and carefully lit Callum&#8217;s cigarette first, then his own, protecting the flame from the wind with his hand.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;So, if you aren&#8217;t with the church,&#8221; asked Callum, drawing in a long, deep smoke, &#8220;what are you up to these days?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Billy puffed out a small cloud. &#8220;I&#8217;m a janitor at our old high school. Union job. Good benefits, and I get all the school holidays off. I spend them with my kid while my ex works. She&#8217;s a nurse.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Wow, man, you&#8217;re a dad! Congrats!&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Yeah,&#8221; Billy looked at his feet and smiled. &#8220;One thing I try not to mess up. Often still do. What about you?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;What about me?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Wife, kids, work?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Yeah. I&#8217;ve got a good job out of state. Government contracts. Statistical analysis.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Cool, cool,&#8221; Billy nodded. &#8220;What about the wife and kids?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Callum hesitated. &#8220;No wife. No kids.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s OK, man, you still got time. Seeing anyone?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Mm-hmm.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Serious?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Yeah.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;How come you didn&#8217;t bring your girl with you to see Mom for the holidays?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Callum paused. &#8220;Because I didn&#8217;t think Mom would approve. And I was right.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Why wouldn&#8217;t she approve?&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Callum looked up at Billy. &#8220;Because it&#8217;s not a girl.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Billy&#8217;s eyes widened. &#8220;Oh! Well&#8230;&#8221; He looked away briefly, then right back at Callum and smiled. &#8220;It&#8217;s all good, man. I am sure your mom will come around.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Yeah, maybe.&#8221; Callum puffed out a couple of smoke rings. &#8220;I hope so. But not today.&#8221; He took one last big drag, dropped the cigarette to the ground, and extinguished it with his toes. &#8220;I gotta go back.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>Billy smiled. &#8220;No worries, man. Good to see you! Thanks for letting me bum a cigarette off you.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Good to see you too, Billy.&#8221; Callum turned to leave, then glanced back. &#8220;Thanks for the light.&#8221;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>He craved the respite of smoke diffusing through his lungs, imagined it hitting him hard on an empty stomach. Maybe he shouldn&#8217;t have brought up the issue until after dinner.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":16630,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-16502","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-maura-yzmore"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16502","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16502"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16502\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16621,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16502\/revisions\/16621"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16630"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16502"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16502"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16502"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}