The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters

“It gets confusing sometimes, and sometimes I forget the true nature of things, but most times I can paint my lips the brightest red, or dull ‘em down to the palest pink, depending on what you, or I, need.

“Need to feel good about yourself? No problem. I’ll sidle up and plant a big juicy one right on your ear! That way you’ll think I’m the damnedest thing, and reward me just for being here.

“Not feeling too generous lately? Got it covered. I’ll untuck those cheeks and nibble your buns ‘til wealth’s pouring outta that rear! And if I’m real careful…, and take my time…, I won’t have to eat any shit!

“And when I’m finally done with you, I can slip away and make it all seem like it’s your fault that I’m leaving. I’ll raise a ruckus so emotionally adept that you’d put yourself in the doghouse just for treating me that way!

“Yep, I got this kissing thing down. ‘Sept when it comes to for real… The dead can’t kiss for real. Their lips are too numb. And there’s no Prince Charming in the world with enough heat to melt that kinda permafrost.

“I’ve been dead for years. Truth is it’s been so long, that I can’t really remember living. That’s why I said that sometimes the kissing gets confusing. I’ve been giving people what they want, and sucking face for what I need for so long now, that I can’t remember what it is just to be kissed.

“Hell, maybe I never really was just kissed. Maybe it’s only ever been for something that would get me somewhere. I don’t really know…

“Every now and then though, the glimmers of a dream kiss filters into my brain. A kiss that’s warm and sweet, full of love and respect. Full of the want of me. Not the me that makes people feel good physically, or makes ‘em feel attractive, or young, or happy, but the me that I keep locked away. Yeah… that me dreams of being kissed for real…” The woman heaved a big sigh, “…but it’s been so long since I let that girl out, I can’t even find the key.” Her brows knit together as she looked at me sideways.

What was I to say to this woman sitting next to me? Had life really been that hard on her that she had simply stopped living? What could have caused her to go through the motions of living without the warmth and comfort of actually being alive?

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at her. I watched her mouth move with her ramblings. I began to notice the fine lined groves cut deeply into her skin. Each heartache, each disappointment, was etched on her face. There were lines around her eyes too, set with the dark blue-grey color of lost sleep. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. I was sure I’d seen her before, maybe even here on this train.

I felt guilty. I’d just received a wonderful kiss. There hadn’t been a lot of tongue action or even any heavy breathing during it, but it carried the kind of want, the kind of love, that this woman spoke about. At least it did for me.

She’d seen it. My fiancé had given it to me just before I’d boarded the train. We’d stood on that platform and said our goodbyes without paying attention to anyone else who might be near. She was one of the others. Then she’d followed me into the passenger car, and had sat next to me. She started to talk about kissing as if we were old friends.

I’ve taken this same train every Monday after my weekends with him. Maybe she’d watched us before, and that’s where I’d seen her…

“Now don’t you start cryin’ for me! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” She reached in her handbag and took out a tissue, handing it to me. “It’s just, when I seen you and your man out there, I thought ‘Now there’s a KickAss Kiss!’ How long you two been married?”

“We’re not married yet, but we will be. This November in fact… if everything goes okay.” I tried to smile pleasantly as I took the tissue from her, but turned my gaze away in embarrassment.

“He’s already married, ain’t he?”

My head snapped up and I looked at the woman nervously. The look of recognition mirrored back on her face frightened me.

“Yes. But he’s getting a divorce…” My words sounded ridiculous even to me. How many times had I heard that argument before, with other people?

The woman shook her head and sighed. “They all say that darlin’, and we stupidly believe ‘em. Dry your eyes baby. You know you don’t believe it deep down. I can tell by the way you’re lookin’ at me now.

“He’s been stringin’ you along like them Christmas lights I got hanging on my porch. I ain’t took them things down in years, ‘cause I’m too lazy to have to hang ‘em back up again. I just keep changing the bulbs that blow every year with others that I pull from a second old string. It’s easier than buyin’ new.”

I wiped my nose and eyes with the tissue. “How did you know he was already married?”

“’Cause I was you once. ‘Bout thirty years ago. I believed then too. Think that’s when I first learned to kiss the way I do now. Oh I get by, but it ain’t the same as for real.” She closed her handbag, as the train lurched to a halt.

“This is my stop darlin’, and I gotta get off. You might want to think about that too. There is such a thing as a Kiss-Ass Kiss, but it ain’t attached to a third pair of lips.” She placed a leathery hand on my cheek and lifted my face. “Don’t end up like me sugar. It ain’t no fun bein’ dead.”

I watched her leave the car and I moved to the window so that I could follow her movements through the crowd of people exiting the train. She turned and waved at me as the train started to move again.

Then she did something that surprised me. She blew me a kiss. A KickAss Kiss. One that knocked the wind right out of me. I was looking at a picture of myself in about thirty years. I decided then and there that this would be my last time riding this train.





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C. A. Newsome's books