Kiss Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Ray leaned over in order to kiss the woman he was dancing with.
She was retired and he was retired and they both suddenly had too much time in
their days and nights. Ray had kissed a million kisses. This would only be one
more. It wasn’t a special kiss. It wasn’t a kiss of love or sexual desire. It
was an old and tired kiss. It was the kiss of boredom. It was the kiss of
nothing better to do. It would be standard boilerplate fundamentals. Lean in,
tilt head, open lips, and add just enough moisture, but not too much. No
tongue. No biting or nibbling. He wasn’t a rambunctious youth anymore. There
would be nothing too erotic or risqué or flamboyant. It would just be another
average run-of-the-mill kiss. Nothing for the record books. Nothing to be
remembered. It might lead to something more later on, but it certainly didn’t
have to. Ray wasn’t so worried about that sort of thing anymore. It might be
nice, sure, but it certainly wasn’t necessary. He was old enough and had put
enough miles on his tires that he wasn’t too concerned about it. Not that she
wasn’t a nice woman. She certainly was. Rebecca Anna Linda. How she ended up
with three first names was anyone’s guess. Ray didn’t mind, he found it
endearing. Maybe it was a joke her parents had played. Rebecca said it was
because she was three times the woman; she was more than he could handle. Ray
liked that confidence. That was really endearing. If Rebecca Anna Linda was in
for something more, she would let him know. Ray was sure of that. Women always
had a way of letting a man know that. It hadn’t been so simple when he was
younger, but it was a whole lot easier now, once everybody involved had
experience.
Ray leaned in to kiss her. He blinked and a million moments went
by. He blinked and time froze and eternity followed.
The kiss was electric; the kiss was awe-inspiring. Ray leaned in
and kissed the girl.
The kiss would never be forgotten. It was a first kiss. It was
world shattering.
Ray leaned in and didn’t know what to do. His imagination had
gotten away from him. What was he supposed to do? The moment was gone; ruined.
His first and best and oldest friend. They were young and innocent
and he kissed her. Not because he wanted to do it out of passion or love or any
emotion like that, but because he had seen adults do it. He had seen it in
movies and television and with his parents. He knew he was supposed to kiss the
girl. He had been trained to know to do it. He didn’t know why he was supposed
to do it, but he knew he was. So he did.
He was older now. He thought back and remembered everything. He
remembered what he wanted to remember. She was perfection. She was his dream.
She was gone now. The girl was a woman and she was gone. Married.
Children. Maybe she was divorced. Maybe she was retired too. Maybe. He didn’t
know. He didn’t want to know those sorts of things.
She was his but now she was gone. Lost to time and opportunity.
Beth sat on his lap. She walked right over to him during a party
while he was sitting on a couch and sat on his lap. He could remember the taste
of cheap beer and stale cigarettes as she French kissed him. He didn’t know
what cheap beer or stale cigarettes tasted like at the time, but he knew he
didn’t like whatever she tasted like. He also knew he didn’t care. He had never
been French kissed in public and at a party before. He wasn’t going to stop it
just because of a little thing like her taste.
Beth was wild. Beth was aggressive. Ray had never been with
someone like Beth before. At the time he didn’t even know her name yet. At that
moment, he didn’t care.
There had been games. He had spun bottles. He had hidden behind
Erica’s garage in line with three other boys waiting for their turn at a kiss. When
he was still too young to fully appreciate it, Ray kissed a girl named Megan
while stuck in a closet at a party. He was always convinced that she wanted
something more, but he never knew for sure so he never asked.
When he was older there had been so many. He couldn’t remember all
their names or faces. Some of them blended together. But some of them he could
still hear what they sounded like or imagine what they smelled like. Or at
least he thought he could.
Some kisses had been funny. Some had been mean and bitter and
cruel. He had drawn blood once from biting too hard. He had ruined a moment
while attempting to be cute and funny and had never had a chance with her ever
again.
He had been drunk. He had been out of his mind. He couldn’t count
them all. He couldn’t remember. Sometimes there were a million of them.
Sometimes there was just one.
Ray could see her face. He could always see her face. There was
some soft powder she put on her skin. It barely smelled, but it had a texture
to it, a texture that made her skin less than soft, but somehow more pure.
Funny the things he could remember.
He thought he would always remember her, even when he wanted to
forget her.
He couldn’t count the number of times he had touched her. Was it a
thousand? A million? A one point it was infinite and forevermore.
She wasn’t the best kisser he had ever known. There was another,
one that fought him and struggled with him and had passion and loving her was a
battle. But it turned out everything with her was a battle. And battles can
only last so long. No, this one was different, this time was different. She
wasn’t the best kisser, but everything wasn’t a battle and sometimes that makes
it better.
He always put his right hand behind her head. He let his hand
brush over her ear and wrapped around the back of her head and held her hair
back. And then he looked at her. He always paused to look at her. Certainly it
wasn’t every time, but it was his memory and his life and he could remember it
however he wanted to remember it. It was a conscious and unconscious motion. He
knew he was doing it, knew he was pausing, perhaps to point it out to her.
Perhaps he wanted to build the anticipation. Perhaps he just wanted to look
into her eyes and have her look into his and have them both know what was going
to happen next.
And then he would kiss her.
It wasn’t forced. It was a tender and loving act. And it was a
volitional effort. He wanted her to know it was conscious. He had given up
alcohol. He had given up other women. He wanted her to know he was always there
and in the moment, thinking of her.
He had paused to look at other women this same way, but never the
same again. The moment was never real. It was a prop, a rehearsed act. The
women might not know, but he always did. He would never admit that to any one
of them. If he ever had the opportunity again, he would lie and tell her it was
all hers. He would never tell her anything else.
He would never have that opportunity again.
Ray blinked. A lifetime passed. A world of choices and chances and
opportunities and divergences came and went.
He began to chuckle and laugh. Rebecca pulled back and looked at
him.
“What? Are you okay?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
It took Ray a moment to compose himself.
“I was going to kiss you…”
“I know. I wanted you to.”
“I wasn’t going to kiss you well. It was going to be… well it
wasn’t going to be what either of us would want to remember. And I don’t know,
it just threw me off I guess.”
“Well, I suppose we could try
and make it memorable. That is, if you can contain yourself?”
“I think so.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
And then Rebecca kissed him.
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