Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Day 351 - Kiss Story

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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