Pretty Enough

“Hell, I can’t do it. She’s just not the girl for me.” Peter pulls out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and holds it gently between his fingers. Without a lighter, he goes through the motions, with his warm breath acting as a substitute for smoke.

“Jenny’s a nice girl, Peter. She may not be the prettiest girl on the block, but she’s pretty enough.”

“Not enough for me,” Peter replies as he flicks his cigarette to shake off imaginary ash.

“You know,” Barry says while rocking in his chair, “looks ain’t everything. When it all comes down to it, a girl’s personality holds priority. Thirty, or even twenty years from now, looks won’t mean a damn thing.”

“Easy for you to say,” snaps Peter, “what are you now, seventy?”

“Sixty-five.”

“And you probably had your fair share of fine young ladies after the war.”

Barry ignores Peter’s remark and gets up from his chair. He pulls out a metal lighter engraved with his initials and switches it on as Peter naturally responds by bringing his cigarette close to the flame. Proper smoke flows out of Peter’s nose, wispy in the ongoing winds.

“Things like a pretty face or silky hair don’t last forever. Those things are borrowed from God and eventually are returned upon death. But things like personality and understanding – now those are yours to keep. God can’t take those from you ’cause those are things that define a person. Sure a pretty wife is nice to have. Life in bed would be a lot more enjoyable and all. But you can’t really value a person for something that isn’t really theirs to begin with, now can you?”

Peter cuts short on a drag and gives Barry a baffled look.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, old man.” He flicks his cigarette again, this time causing real ash to scatter onto the ground.