https://caspercollege.cvlcollections.org/files/original/4abf530799f4dc5526391ed7ce82745d.pdf be1754f7abf57543374cf255472272fd PDF Text Text Pl CnnuErsaUnri Duer Stohen Cigarettes Zoe von Gunten Family dinners weren't always the best, but family dinners with the Morettis were the highlight of each month, at least for Lydia, Dad, and Mom. Abigail was tired of them, mostly of Vincent, the middle child of the Moretti's. Her sister and the Morettis kids called each other "cousin," but Abby refrained from this. They weren't even related, but apparently this friendship between the families was as thick as blood. The Morettis and the Callaghans did everything together. Ever since Abigail’s father took them to the Moretti's restaurant and met Robert Moretti, the families were inseparable. Everyone except Abby. She knew her father saw Vincent as the son he never had. She had an itching in the back of her head every time her father looked at Vincent Moretti then back at her. The itching only got more and more loud and obnoxious, it seemed to tell her the truth of the look in her father’s eyes, a look that said: "If only you were more like him.” Abby was the failure who couldn't follow his rules; she slacked in classes, wrote poetry when she should have been writing essays, daydreamed at dinners while her father lectured her on personal financing, and, worst of all, she wanted to pursue being an author...an artist. She wasn't perfect like Vincent. The most recent dinner was a week ago. Vincent won an award at a recent science bowl. Abby had also won an award for her writing, but Dad cared more about Vincent. A straight-A student, intelligent, had a perfect path in life surely to become an award winning scientist or engineer, a painter in his spare time [it was never distracting like Abby's writing], and, of course, a pretty decent chef [thanks to his restaurateur parents of course]. He had a well of potential. Abby, on the other hand, was wasting time. Her writing was "a distraction,” something that would never make her father proud. That night Dad made lobster therm!dor, probably to impress his buddy Robert, He said it was a special occasion and Mom even made a pound cake. "Big night, huh. Pops?” Lydia asked, leaning against the door frame. Abby sat at the kitchen table 148 Expression Magazine �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes Staring down at the certificate hidden partialiy under her homework, she didn't know when to bring it up. "Sure is," he weaved around Mom who was stirring a pot on the stove. “I hate iobster,” Abby muttered, shrinking in her chair. “What?" Arthur turned and iooked at Abby bewiidered, "You never told me that before, I thought you loved it." "I don't love it right now," she said, placing her head on the table, “why do the Morettis have to come over tonight?" "They come over every Friday, dear" her mother responded, switching places with her father on the stove. "Right! Not to mention the celebration." Her father lifted the spoon out of the boiling pot, tasting it. "Celebration?" Abby sat back up, "Yeah, celebration. Didn’t you hear Vince won the science bowl or something?” Lydia chimed in "It's notyusf that! You and Cam are graduating soon too." Arthur had moved on to chopping vegetables. "Penny too. She's going into middle school next year," Lacey added. “Those are some pretty stupid celebration reasons." Abby said under her breath. "What did you say?" Art called back to her. "Nothing." "Celebrate, huh7" Abby thought bitterly. She wasn’t even a second thought in the conversation. There was nothing to celebrate when it came to Abby. She picked at her fingers. 65th Edition 149 �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes “1 have something to celebrate." She started, fiddling with a pencil. Her sister, father, and mother stopped. It felt like all the action in the room froze for just a second. They stood, staring at her. Her father's eyes burned into her. She felt like crumbling; she was good for nothing, but maybe this would change that. "I uh...I recently entered my short story and a poem into a competition and I won first place...in both categories." She mustered a smile and held up the certificate. "What's this?" Arthur ambled over to her and snatched the certificate out of her hand. "An...award?" "Oh.’’ He looked at it skeptically. "Oh?” "Hm, good job..." He looked a little closer at the paper. "I mean you could have been studying but this is..." Abby furrowed her eyebrows at him, “fine." Her father handed the certificate back and turned to keep cooking like nothing had happened. Abby looked down at her certificate then back at her father, the back of his balding red head seemingly apathetic to her. She shook her head, bewildered. "What’s that supposed to mean?" "Nothing. It's great." His tone was flat. "No, tell me what you mean." She tossed the certificate on the table behind her. Her father turned, pinching his nose bridge, his Seiko watch caught the light, blinding her for a moment. 150 Expression Magazine �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes “Abigale, I just think you should have been focusing on other things. Do we need to discuss your report card again?" "This had nothing to do with my grade." "Listen Abigale, you know what happened to me." "Oh my God. Not this again, Dad." "Well it’s true and it’s real life. Abby. You go into these artsy careers and you know what happens?" Abby rolled her eyes and simultaneously recited with her father: "You lose all your money and have to dig your way out." "ExactlyI" Arthur exclaimed after their duet. "God. Just because you failed doesn't mean I will," Abby muttered, crossing her arms: she avoided his eyes. “What did you say?" The air froze. "I said you failed, but I won't." She looked up glaring at her father despite her turning stomach. The kitchen was silent. Lydia opened her mouth to say something but closed it. She gazed back and forth from her sister to her father as if trying to decide who to defend, "Okay." Arthur turned to the counter and picked the knife up, slicing carrots once again. "Okay? Okay what?" Abby pressed. "Just okay," he said curtly, "You can say that all you want but just you wait. The real world hits you and you’ll be sorry. That certificate is only a false hope, just one win. How many more contests will you enter but end up losing money on? Just stop before it gets worse, Abigale." 65th Edition 151 �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes “Dad, come on...that's a little much," Lydia finally spoke up. “Art..." her mother placed her hand on Arthur’s shoulder. "Fine. Whatever," Abby spat. She knew the conversation was over. She bit her tongue so hard it hurt and snatched her homework and certificate through blurry eyes. She hobbled out the kitchen, her sister’s concerned look of pity infected her soul as she passed her. “Abby...wait, you know he didn’t mean it." Lydia tried to grab her sister, but Abby moved too quickly. She retreated to her room like a whipped dog, tai! between her legs. She slammed the door shut and dropped the pages of homework on the ground and amongst them, the certificate. Hot angry tears dripped down her face. She let out a groan and picked up the ornamental piece of paper. Her body felt hot and cold all at once. Her heart ached so much her chest hurt: her head boiled and pounded. She gripped the fragile paper; the golden etched words mocked her from the page. She gritted her teeth and found that she was crumpling the certificate. She hesitated for a moment, but, through the buzzing pain and hurt in her heart, she threw the certificate in the trashcan across her room. Her back slammed into her bedroom door as she sunk down to the floor. She contained the screams of frustration and wails of sorrow that wanted to escape her chest, instead letting out pitiful whimpers and moans. Her breath was choppy and fast. She sobbed on the ground for what felt like hours. She had stayed on the floor until her head hurt from crying and she had no tears left to cry. The doorbell rang; the Morettis had arrived. She knew she had to make an appearance: if she didn't, there would be about another hour worth of lecturing after dinner, along with the current issue of her competition at hand. After some attempted masking of her puffy face and eyes, she took four deep breaths in. After the last exhale she exited her room and emerged into a night of torture. 152 Expression Magazine �Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes The entire night, she couldn't help glaring at the shy quiet boy who sat on the couch as Lydia and Cam entertained 10 year old Penny. Even when Lydia and Cam pulled Abby and Vincent into a board game, Abby avoided interaction with Vincent. The entire dinner was lively; laughter filled the dining room. Cam and Lydia chatted about college plans, the adults smiled in approval of their eldest children's choices. Penny, ever the sweet girl, told all about how excited she was to go into Sth grade and that she had made her own hand-drawn invitations to her Sth grade graduation. Abby sat isolated in between her mother and older sister. Her mouth was dry from the lack of speaking: her head still hurt from the tears. She boiled beneath the surface as conversation shifted over to Vincent and all his wonderful accomplishments, traits, and skills. It all came to a head when the cake came out. Arthur stood up. Abby watched her father raise his glass of red wine. He gleamed and stared at Vincent in a way she had never seen him look at her. “All of you kids are growing into such fine people. I’m so proud of all of you. I wanted to take this moment to congratulate Vince on his recent award at the science bowl. This boy is truly a jack of all trades!" He said with pride, "I'm so happy to be able to be called your uncle, Vincent.” Before he could continue on with his speech, Abby jolted up out of her seat, nearly knocking her chair over. She couldn't take it anymore. The silverware and glasses clattered as her hands pushed off the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but her eyes met Vincent's. Those cold blue eyes filled with fear pierced right through her heart. They were filled with a nervous fear, he was confused. She looked at her father, clearly growing infuriated. Abby's mother let out a small sound of distress, turning away from the scene. 65th Edition 153 �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes "Abby..." Lydia whispered, taking a hoid of her hand. "Don’t touch me." Abby puiied her hand away from her sister's, "i'm done." “Young lady, you sit down right now." Arthur called after her as she left the table, fury radiating from her. Abby stormed out of the house, grabbing the keys to her sister's car. not before overhearing Penny’s small voice ask her older brother innocently: "Why is Uncle Art so angry at Abby?" She drove to the shore of Lake Michigan and stood on the shore screaming till her lungs and throat hurt. She didn't care if anyone heard her. She needed some way to get rid of the pain. Even though a week had passed since then, the memory was fresh and the wound still raw. Her father was more irritable with her despite talking little to her. Lydia was doing her best to try and be there for her sister while keeping their father happy. Mom, anxious as always, was trying to contain the fires but only inhaling the toxic smoke. She was taking more Xanax these days. Lydia's soccer tournament had finally arrived; her sister begged her to go. Abby refused many times, but the way Lydia looked at her filled her with guilt. Her sister, always the fixer, was trying to keep it together, but she was hurting just as much. So Abby sat on the bleachers next to her mother uncomfortably in her school uniform. She watched her sister and her strawberry blonde hair rush across the field; she was beautiful even when dirt was smeared on her face and sweat dripped from her forehead. She smiled brightly at her teammates between plays, patting the other girls on the back, and high fiving them. She was a shining light on the grey Chicago afternoon. When Abby wasn't pretending to watch, she was writing in her notepad; poetry which her father 154 Expression Magazine �Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes would never see, She wrote and wrote till her hands were cramped. When she looked up for a minute, i shaking her hands out, her eyes locked with her sister's as she looked up to the stands. Lydia smiled and (waved, she made a heart with her hands. Abby weakly smiled back and shyly waved hoping no one was ' lookingather. "Cam! Vince!" Her mother's voice dragged her attention away from her sister. Abby's heart sank when she heard the names. She looked past her mother seeing the tall dark haired boy and his younger brother trailing behind him. Camillo smiled like Lydia: the two suns in a dark world. "Hi, Aunt Lacey! We came to see Lydia play, she told me last week about her game. I'm happy to see you're here," Cam was cheerful as always, "Oh! Abby! I didn't think you’d be here!" He leaned to the side, looking at the sullen girl awkwardly tugging at her braids. "Yeah. I'm here too." She was cold, turning her head back to the field where she saw her sister looking at her with a frown. She knew Lydia didn't want her acting this way towards the Morettis. It was no secret to Abby that Lydia and Cam had something. The two were smitten with each other. He'd come to all of her games, and, every time Lydia would come back from dinner with the Morettis and Dad, she'd blush and talk all about him. "Yo cousin, what's up with the outfit?" Cam teased with a grin. "I just got out of school, what do you think?" She snapped, her face flushing red. The Catholic school uniform was prudish, probably never changed since the 50s, No teenager would be caught dead in it. "Damn, alright," He laughed awkwardly, "well...Aunt Lacey, would you mind if we sat with you? I know Cousin over there might bite my head off, but I know you're a little nicer,” He playfully grabbed 65th Edition 155 �/ Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes Lacey’s shoulders and gently shook her. “Oh, Cam!" Mom laughed, "of course you may. I'm sorry about Abigail, it's been a difficult week." She glanced at her daughter nervously hoping not to provoke another reaction, Abby rolled her eyes, Cam and Vincent took their seats next to Abby's mother, Vincent had a sketchbook. He buried his head in it, and he kept his head down unless his brother nudged him to make some quip or jab. After a long bout of silence with interjections of whistle tweets from the fields, cheering from the crowd, and occasional clapping, Camillo leaned past Lacey to speak to Abby. "So, Cousin. Why don't you wanna switch schools to ours like your sister did?" She straightened up uncomfortably as if she had been stung with a needle. “Because. Dad would freak out." She spoke curtly. "That's a shitty excuse. Lydia did it and Uncle Art hasn't blown a fuse." Cam shrugged. "Well that's because she's not me. Dad hates me or something, but he definitely doesn’t hate Lydia...or you...and especially not Vince." she shot a glare at Camillo. "Abigail!" Her mother had overheard, "don't say that. Your father does not hate you." "Yeah right. Dad could care less about me unless I'm doing something he hates, which is apparently everything." Abby shut her notepad and grabbed her messenger bag, “Yeah Cousin...that's a little harsh. Art doesn't hate you. It's just been a tough week for everyone that's all," Camillo reached over and put his hand on her knee in an attempt to comfort her: to Abby it burnt. 156 Expression Magazine �A Convefzation Over Stolen Cigarettes "Tough week? It's a tough life! Being that guy's daughter is like living in Hell! I can't be myself and I especially can't do anything right. I'm not perfect like Vince over there! I’m sick and tired of it.” Abby snatched her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I'm sorry..." With a quiet and trembling voice, Vincent finally spoke. Abby froze. She couldn't place why he always made her hesitant. It was like the words he spoke broke her heart. His blue eyes were on her again. They were sincere. "Whatever. It doesn't matter." She huffed, quickly averting her eyes from Vincent's. She left the bleachers like she had left dinner. It felt pathetic, it felt cowardly. Yet it felt better than staying and seeing Vincent's eyes that looked deep into her soul like he could read her pathetic misery inside and out. She gripped her messenger bag’s strap: she could practically feel Lydia watching her from the field. She knew she would break her sister’s heart, but it didn’t matter anymore. She couldn’t stand being around Vincent. He didn’t have to do anything. He was quiet, he spoke rarely. He didn’t ask for her father's praise, yet he received it. They weren’t even related and her father called himself his uncle but acted more like a father to him, and it irritated her. Vincent’s presence alone was enough to make her want to rip her hair out, and he didn't have to do anything. He never did. She found a secluded place around the corner of the large highschool and squatted down against the wall. She dug around in her messenger bag, her hands shaking, searching for a moment of calm. She pulled out the pack of cigarettes she had stolen from her mother, secretly thanking Lydia for switching to a public school so any teachers or peers at her Catholic school wouldn’t recognize her. She lit the cigarette and took a long drag off of it, her shaking hands calmed for a minute. She 65th Edition 157 �4 Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes wished that she had rejected Lydia's request to watch her game. Abby shouid have known Camiilo would show up. Of course he would. He always was dragging Vincent along with him too, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. She tapped the spent ash off her cigarette and let out a long sigh, trying to ignore the tearswelling in her eyes. "Cousin," Camiilo had followed her, "what the hell is going on with you?" He stood above her. "It’s none of your business, Cam. Go back to the game, Lydia will be upset that you’re not in the stands." Abby put the cigarette to her lips and looked away from the boy. "She’s upset that you’re not there." He turned and took a seat next to her, "Seriously, Cousin..." his voice softened. "Shut the hell up." Abby attempted to sound angry, but her wavering voice said otherwise. "Abby, what’s going on?" Camiilo put his hand on her back: this time his touch didn’t burn. It was hard to hide emotions from Camiilo. He was the kind of person you could tell anything to. It didn’t help that he could read anyone like a book. "If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” She turned and looked him in the eye, "it’s just...ugh. God, this sucks. It’s just that... it's just that 1 can’t do anything right in Dad's eyes. To him I’m just a failure, and yet he loves Vincent! He’s not even his son! I just don’t know. It’s like he wants to replace me with Vincent." She looked up into the cloudy skies. She brought her hand to her eyes and wiped away stray tears, "Listen, it's not that I hate Vincent, 1 guess I think he’s really sweet, but I just can’t help being upset with him. He doesn’t do anything and Dad is fawning over him.” she paused for what felt like centuries, "You know...I won a writing competition that night..." 158 Expression Magazine �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes She picked up a rock and fiddled with it. Cam reached over and took the cigarette out of her mouth; he put it to his own lips and inhaled the smoke. "You did?" He glanced at her. "Yeah. First place.” She tossed the rock. "That’s awesome, Abby. For what it’s worth, I think you’re very talented, and so does your sister." He held the cigarette out to her. "Thanks..." she sighed, “I just wish that Dad would think that." "Man, fuck what he thinks. He was being a prick anyway." Cam nudged her, "Lydia told me about what he said. 1 think you can make it as a writer." They sat in silence, listening to the distant whistle calls from the soccer field, the mindless chattering in the bleachers, and the fading spring breeze that was slowly becoming a warm summer wind carried the cigarette smoke far into the sky, "I know I said not to tell anyone, and I still mean that," Abby looked down, "But...would you tell Vincent that I don't hate him? I know 1 act like I do... but I'm just frustrated. I'll try to be kinder...but 1 can’t guarantee it. Just tell him I don't hate him, okay?" "Yeah, I’ll do that cousin." The two passed the cigarette back and forth for a few minutes longer. After a while Camillo stood up, “I’ll tell him, Abby," he turned to leave, "When you’re ready, you should come back. It’d mean a lot to Lydia.” Camillo walked back to the game, leaving Abby alone yet again. She pressed the cigarette into 65th Edition 159 �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes the ground, making sure it was put out: she slipped the remainder in her pocket, She took a deep breath in and exhaled long and hard. Why was it so hard to forgive Vincent? Why couldn’t she stop blaming him? She wished she knew. All she wanted was for the aching pain to end. She gripped her chest, the invisible pain only buzzed and hummed more. She finally worked up the courage to leave the safety of the secluded wall and returned to the soccer field. She quietly muttered an apology to her mother. She was ready to take her seat back on the opposite side of her mother, away from the Moretti boys, but, while she was gone, the bleachers had filled in more. Her stomach flipped, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the only spot left was next to Vincent. She gripped her messenger bag and scooted past Camillo, shooting him an uncomfortable glance; he shrugged in return. She sat next to Vincent. She could tell he was just as uncomfortable as she was. Vincent’s eyes darted from her to his sketchbook. His hands were shaking as he drew. Abby's hands shook too, "You smell like smoke," he whispered. "Yeah-.bad habit," She responded, trying not to inject the venom clawing at her chest into her voice, “I understand...I'm sorry...I don’t know what I did but I'm sorry if I hurt you." He muttered quietly enough that Abby strained to hear him. "You..,you haven’t." Abby forced out, "I’m sorry I’ve been so...you know." She avoided his gaze. She let out a long sigh; she picked at her fingers until they bled in the awkward silence. "I don’t hate you. you know." She could feel his eyes finally settling on her in shock. "You don’t...?” 160 Expression Magazine �A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes “No. I don’t. I told Cam he could tell you that so I wouldn’t have to myself, but clearly he wants me to do my own dirty work." She leaned forward hoping Cam would hear her, he probably did but didn't care. "Oh...well, thanks..." Vincent looked back down at his sketchbook. Abby could make out a small smile on his face. Silence settled over the two. A strange peacefulness they had never felt near each other. Abby sighed and glanced at his hand steadily sketching away. "What are you drawing?" She asked softly and leaned over, their shoulders brushing against each other. 65th Edition 161 � Text A resource consisting primarily of words for reading. Examples include books, letters, dissertations, poems, newspapers, articles, archives of mailing lists. Note that facsimiles or images of texts are still of the genre Text. Original Format The type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data Print Magazine Dublin Core The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/. Title A name given to the resource A Conversation Over Stolen Cigarettes Rights Information about rights held in and over the resource <div class="element-text five columns omega"> <p><a href="http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/">http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/InC/1.0/</a></p> </div> <em>Expression</em> claims first North American rights to submissions selected for publication. All rights revert back to the author/artist after publication. Date Created Date of creation of the resource. 2025 Type The nature or genre of the resource Text Creator An entity primarily responsible for making the resource Zoë von Gunten Language A language of the resource ENG Is Part Of A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included. Expression Literary and Arts Magazine, CCA 04.ii.c.2022.01 WyCaC US. Casper College Archives and Special Collections. Identifier An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context CCA_04.ii.c.2022.01_Exp_2025_Prose_01 Format The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource Searchable PDF Publisher An entity responsible for making the resource available Casper College