The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters

“Nancy? Are either of you Nancy?” The girl seemed afraid to ask the words. Was that truly fear?

Debra’s friend answered the question and had the treadmill off in a matter of seconds. “Yes, I am Nancy. What’s going on?” Now it was Nancy’s face that seemed filled with fear. Debra lowered her own treadmill setting down to a walking pace.

“There’s a man on the phone. He says he is your husband and that it’s an emergency.” The girl’s hands shook as she stated the words, clearly nervous. In fairness, Debra knew this was not the sort of thing one expects when taking a job at a gym. Of course, now, her focus was drawn to her dear friend. Nancy was already off the treadmill, ready to follow the ditzy employee. Debra was going to ask if she should go along as well, but the look on Nancy’s face implied she would not have been heard. It was as if she knew, as though she had already heard the news echo in her ears. Debra stopped her own treadmill and opted to watch her friend approach the phone on the other side of the gym. Nancy was not on the phone long. Debra could not be sure if she had spoken into the device at all. She watched as Nancy’s arm weakly placed the thing back onto its appropriate location. Nancy was never weak; she never carried herself like that. After all, Nancy was prior military. She was a strong, determined woman. It was a quality Debra adored about her. Something was wrong here, truly wrong.

Debra did not hesitate any longer and plucked up her bag, rushing to her friend’s side. Nancy was not herself. Her eyes were glazed over and she seemed lost in some distant land. “What is it?” Debra did not know of any other way to ask. She needed to know what course of action to take next.

Nancy’s expression drifted toward her friend. She still wasn’t there, not truly. “It was Paul. I need to go home.” The words seemed to have drawn the last bit of energy from the woman’s body, mind, and very soul. She needed Debra now more than ever. Debra was more than willing to step up to the plate.

“Let’s go get Korina.” Debra hoped that hearing her daughter’s name would draw Nancy back to reality for the moment. It did not. The woman remained as though the living dead. Her face was pale, her mind was gone. Debra put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and led her to the facility’s daycare.

“I need to pick up Korina.” She handed the attendant the tag that identified the young girl. Something about that concept seemed sick. It was as though she was picking up a lost bag, not a living person. Nevertheless, such random thoughts were not where her mind needed to be. She had to be here, in this moment, for the sake of her friend.

Debra led her friend and the woman’s young daughter through the gym doors and out to the parking lot. She scanned for the car. She was desperately trying to think on her feet and move as efficiently as possible. She could not remember where the darn car was parked. Irritation arose within her, she needed to hurry. She looked down and saw the young girl clinging to her mother’s weak hand. They needed her; they both desperately needed her right now. She had to keep it together. There was simply no other option. At last she identified Nancy’s beaten, tan car. She rushed toward the vehicle, half pushing her friend along. Nancy walked much like a robot. Her body seemed to be following Debra’s directions but at a loss for its own movements.

As they approached the car, Debra did not even ask. She knew the woman was in no state to drive, certainly not with a child in the car. She plucked the keys from Nancy’s hand. How they had even gotten from the woman’s purse into her clinging fingers, she did not know. It didn’t matter. She opened the passenger door first and eased her friend in, keeping a close eye on Korina the entire time. She then opened the back door, ready to help the young child.

“I do it myself!” Korina half screamed the words as she crawled into the backseat. Debra considered getting onto her for being rude, but it wasn’t the time. After all, the young child was probably aware something was wrong with her mother. Debra had always had a way with children. She understood them in a way many could not, granting them more credit for their understanding than the average, arrogant adult. Letting the slight disobedience slide, she closed the door and rushed to the driver’s side. Keys in hand, she whispered a silent prayer under her breath, then crawled in.

She started up the car and glanced once more at her friend. Nancy was staring straight ahead. Her mind wasn’t in the car; it wasn’t even in the vicinity. She was gone somewhere far away. Debra was thankful she did not need to ask for directions. She knew the way to her friend’s house well. Pulling onto the main road, her foot pressed the pedal hard. She looked in her review mirror and was reminded of the child in the back seat. The young girl stroked the doll’s red yarn hair, seemingly oblivious to the situation that awaited them. Debra lessened her foot’s pose against the pedal. She attempted to stay within the boundaries of limited speeding and safety. Every turn seemed to last an eternity and each red light felt like it stretched on for hours. She was eager to complete her mission, to get her friend and the young girl home safely.

C. A. Newsome's books