Kissing Frogs

by Kim Deister

  Kyra was the last to leave, still in the living room exchanging heartfelt goodbyes with her frog. I didn't want her to go. When I called to her, she came trudging out dejectedly, coming to a stop in front of me. As she looked up at me, sadness gave way to an expression that was somewhere between anger and pity. She tugged on my sleeve and gestured for me to bend down. I dropped to my knees and she wrapped her arms around me as she whispered in my ear.

  “Don’t worry, Auntie Cass. I love you so, so much, even if everyone else is being a jerk to you. And that guy? He’s a douche nozzle. So, ignore them. Besides, Mom’s had a stick up her butt lately.”

  “Kyra! Where did you hear that?”

  “What? The douche nozzle part or the part about the stick up Mom’s butt?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Either one! Both!”

  “After you and Luke broke up, I heard Mom call him a douche nozzle a whole bunch of times. And I heard Dad tell Mom a few days ago that she had a big stick sideways up her butt.”

  The honesty of children sometimes left me reeling. Part of me wanted to giggle, but I didn’t think that was the best course of action. But what could I say? She was right on both counts. “Kyra, my love, I don’t think you should repeat either of those things any time soon. Otherwise, you will be my roommate in the doghouse. Okay, sweetling?”

  “Okay. But I do love you and I still think they’re all jerks.”

  “Thank you, sweet pea. I love you, too. And you’re right. They are all jerks.”

  She took a step back and adopted a stance that would rival that of my scary third grade teacher, hands firmly planted on her hips and a stern look on her face. I felt like I was about to get detention or be grounded. She was intimidating for a little girl.

  “Now,” Kyra began, once again adopting a rather serious tone for a small human who was barely eleven. “Do you remember everything I told you?”

  “Yeah, Ky, I remember. I may not be thrilled to share space with it, but I’m not stupid, I promise.”

  She looked at me for a long time. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she assessed my worthiness. The look on her tiny face told me that I might be lacking.

  “Just in case, Mom and I made you a schedule. It’s in Finn’s backpack. It’s very important that you follow my directions.” She looked at me sternly as she spoke. I stood up and got in my best military posture before saluting her.

  “Yes, ma’am. I will follow all directions, ma’am. Beer and chicken wings for the frog and crickets for me. Wait, no. That’s not right,” I paused, pretending to think about it. “Beer and chicken for me and crickets for the frog. Although… do you think it would like chicken wings?” She was not impressed with my humor.

  “Mooom,” whined Kyra. “Are you sure she can do this?”

  “Your aunt is teasing you, Ky,” assured her father from the front porch. “Despite her questionable sense of humor, she is an intelligent person who will take good care of Finn. Okay?” He turned and shook his finger at me. “And you. Stop teasing your niece so Mac and I can get her out of here, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got it, Dad,” I answered Tom, sticking my tongue out at him. I looked down at Kyra, still standing despondently in front of me. I squatted down in front of her and looked her in the eyes. “Don’t worry about it, small person. I got this. Crickets, water, nightstand, singing, don’t kill the frog. Nothing to it.”

  “Fine. I’m trusting you, Auntie Cass. Don’t let me down.” Kyra stared at me for a long moment, still not impressed by my sense of humor and not at all reassured by her father. “You need to send me pics of Finn every day, okay? I need to make sure that he’s okay. And you can help him Skype with me while I’m gone.”

  “What? You want to Skype with a frog?” I stood up and looked at Tom. “Is she serious? She wants to Skype with it?”

  “She’s a little crazy. She takes after her mother, not me,” Tom answered, ignoring Mac’s unamused death stare. “But, yeah, she wants to Skype Finn. Just go with it. It’s easier than arguing, I assure you.”

  Mac rolled her eyes in disgust and headed to their car without another word to me. She called to her daughter over her shoulder. “C’mon, Kyra. We need to go.”

  “She takes after both of you weirdos. Your daughter has issues,” I muttered, eliciting a smile from Tom. “You have issues, little girl. Just so you know.”

  Kyra shrugged and held her arms out for another hug. I scooped her up into my arms and squeezed her until she yelped. “Don’t worry, Ky. You know I’m just messing with you. Your frog will be fine, I promise.” I gave her one last squeeze and a kiss before I put her back on her feet and pushed her towards her parents.

  She shoved her feet into her flip-flops and walked out the door, sending sad glances behind her toward the living room. But before she even made it through the front door, she whirled around and raced back into the living room. I followed her and found her kneeling on the floor in front of the terrarium, cooing at the frog inside. She leaned forward and placed a big, tear-filled kiss on the glass in front of the frog’s face.

  “I love you, Finn! I will miss you so much! And be good for Auntie Cass. She’s weird sometimes, but she’s cool.” She grabbed my hand and we walked back out to her father. They were halfway to the car when, almost as an afterthought, she threw me some sugar, too. “I love you, too, Auntie!”

  “I love you, too, little girl,” I called after her. “And don’t worry about the creature. Your frog will be fine and we will be waiting for you when you get back. You go have fun in France with your grandparents. And don’t forget the most important thing, small human…”

  “What's that?”

  “Gifts. I expect gifts. Good gifts, too. Don’t think you can bring me back a t-shirt and call it a day. I want something good. Like cheese. Or wine. Or a hot French guy!”

  “I don’t think we could bring those back on the plane, Auntie Cass.”

  “If you really loved me, you’d find a way,” I pouted. “Fine. A rich, French guy is good, too. Now, come back here and give me one last hug and kiss before you go and desert me for the rest of the summer.” I was going to miss the hell out of her.

  A last round of hugs and kisses and they were gone, leaving me behind with a frog, a tub of noisy crickets, and two containers of worms.

  I shut the door and leaned against it. That had been far more stressful than I had anticipated. The last thing I’d wanted was for Kyra’s party to be a drama-filled hate fest. But that’s pretty much exactly what it had been. If it had just been my mom, it would have been okay. She was always hypercritical of me. I hated it, but I was used to it. But Mac? I didn’t have any clue what was going on with her, but something sure as hell was.

  At some point during the mass exodus of humanity, someone started a pot of coffee and now fresh caffeine awaited me. I suspected Grandma Fi was responsible. She was a woman who understood the need for a good bracing beverage, although her preferred bracer was of the Irish whiskey variety, a bottle of which sat next to the coffee maker. Thank you, Grandma Fi!

  I poured myself a mug and added a healthy shot of Jameson's before wandering back into the living room. Luna was already there, standing with her paws on the coffee table. Her tiny nose was pressed to the glass of the tank the frog called a condo. She huffed while she stared at it, never having seen such an unusual creature. Every now and then, she craned her head around the side of the tank to look at me as if waiting for an explanation. It was obvious that she didn’t know what to make of him or his intrusion into our home. I was kind of with her on that point.

  I sat down on the couch on the other side of the tank and leaned back, staring at my new roommate. His mere presence in my house was proof positive that I was a sucker for my niece. But what else could I do? If I had said no, she would have lost her pet. I couldn’t imagine having to send my Luna away, so how could I do that to my own niece, even if I didn’t understand her love for an amphibian?

 
The look in her eyes when she said goodbye to him today had been so sad that it just about broke my heart. But it would have been so much worse if she had left knowing he’d be gone by the time she got home. It wasn’t the same as having him in her own house, but she was just happy she could still have him here. So, it was worth it.

  If nothing else, it gave her an excuse to come to Auntie Cass’s house even more often, which always worked out well for her. According to my sister, I needed to learn how to say no to her because I spoiled her too much. She was probably right, but it was the aunt’s prerogative to do exactly that and then send her home to her parents. Besides, the child pulled at my heartstrings with very little effort. All she had to do was give me the puppy dog eyes and I was toast.

  I set my mug down and moved forward until I sat on the edge of the seat, my elbows resting on my knees. Just as I bent down to peer at him, he turned his attention from Luna to me. He hopped off the rock he’d been settled on and turned in mid-air to land facing me, scaring the crap out of both Luna and me. She scurried away to hide under the credenza that held my TV and I was tempted to join her. I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down.

  “Okay, frog. I’m sorry. Finn. Here are the rules. You stay in that cozy, little terrarium of yours and do your thing, whatever that thing may be. I’ll feed you, I’ll water you, I’ll spray you, and I’ll even sing to you because Kyra asked me to. But I feel it’s only fair to tell you the same thing that I told her when she conned me into this. And that is the sad fact that I kill pretty much every plant I touch and I’ve never had a fish live more than a month. Neither of these things says much about my ability to care for life forms other than my own and Luna’s. On top of that, I know next to nothing about frogs. Nevertheless, I’ll do my best to not let my black thumb extend to amphibians. Mostly because Kyra would never forgive me and I don’t think I could handle that. So… we good?”

  The frog stared into my eyes as I spoke and when I stopped, he blinked his eyes at me. It was unnerving, as if he understood everything I said and was acknowledging my words. But when he let out a loud croak, I almost jumped out of my skin. The words I yelled were not fit for the PG-13 crowd. Even Luna, who was used to my mouth, scooted even farther out of sight under the credenza.

  “Not a good start, frog. Not a good start.”

  For the rest of the evening, I tried very hard to ignore the fact that there was a frog in my living room. Usually, I spent my evenings in there watching TV, reading, and generally being lazy. But having an amphibian in the house made me far more productive than I would ever normally be on a Saturday night. My bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen had never been cleaner. Whenever my path had to cross with the frog, I did my best to avoid even looking in his direction.

  Despite my best efforts, the moment came when I could no longer avoid the reality of my situation. I had to feed the frog. I had been dreading this moment since I realized I lost the battle with my manipulative niece. It wasn’t so much that I was morally opposed to the mass murdering of crickets. The problem was the necessary close proximity to them, a feeling that extended to his wormy treats. They might be even more of a problem than the frog itself.

  “Okay, Finn. I’ve brought you dinner. Crickets and a superworm, whatever the hell that is. I hope you are hungry.”

  For a moment, I surveyed the two containers of gross meal items and the terrarium. There was a logistical issue. I didn’t have enough hands to hold the lid in place and still get the crickets and worm inside. The last thing I wanted was for any of them to escape into my house. It was a dilemma. I looked down at the frog who was sitting on his rock staring up at me.

  “As per our deal, I’d appreciate it if you could hold still for a moment and not jump at me while I feed you. I need all the hands I have just to keep the damn crickets and worms under control. You may enjoy these suckers, but I definitely do not. Cool?”

  It occurred to me that I was talking to the frog like it actually understood me. But I pushed that vaguely disturbing thought away. I had more pressing concerns.

  The frog blinked at me again in that disturbing way that made me think that, somehow, he understood me. I took the lid off, hoping he would honor our agreement. When he didn’t make any move towards freedom, I decided to trust him and reached for the horror show that was the small container of worms. I pulled the lid off enough to reach the tweezers inside and still the smell was enough to make me gag. My stomach lurched alarmingly as I gently extracted a single worm.

  It was worse than I had imagined. The worm hung limply in the tweezers, twitching a little. It would have made an excellent prosthetic for a pinky finger in a bad horror movie. Its segmented body reminded me of a Cadillac my grandparents had once owned. We used to call it the “hot fudge sundae” car. It was in the same shades of brown as that car, but with none of the pleasant memories. I almost lost my mind when it came to life and tried to wiggle its way out of the tweezers. Part of its body flopped onto the back of my hand and I squealed like a five-year-old schoolgirl. The hopping, spastic dance of horror I performed would have gotten me laughed off the dance floor. I threw the thing into the tank, expecting the frog to leap upon his tasty treat. But he sat there looking at me, not even sparing a glance for it.

  Then it was time for crickets. I prayed to anyone listening that none of the little bastards would escape into my house. I loved my house and didn’t want to have to move. Someone somewhere listened to my fervent prayers. A dozen or so fell into the tank and none escaped. By the time I was done, I felt like I had held my breath for an hour.

  The frog sat like a stone the whole time, only his eyes moving as he followed me. Not even the crickets bouncing about in front of him and on top of him made him move. I deeply appreciated that he adhered to our agreement and told him so. He seemed to take my words as some sort of weird permission because he broke his stony posture and hopped about catching crickets. Within moments, not a cricket survived within his condo. The worm was far more intelligent than his fellow creatures on the menu. He had escaped for higher ground while the frog was distracted, squirming along the branch that sat at an angle in the terrarium, and hid himself among the leaves. But he was no match for a hungry frog and, just like that, frog dinner was over. If nothing else, the entire experience meant that there was one less worm and twelve less crickets in my house. Silver linings...

  I lived in hesitant accord with the frog until it was time for bed. Kyra had given me strict orders to move him from his smaller tank to the big one her father had set up in my room. So, I dutifully carried the tank upstairs and set it on the nightstand that Tom had shoved to the side. It was bad enough that I had to sleep in the same room with it, but now I had to touch him, too. The thought made my skin crawl. I ran back downstairs and dug in a drawer in the kitchen until I found the oldest, rattiest pair of oven mitts I could find. Official Frog-Carrying Protective Gear. I could market this shit.

  Properly outfitted for the task ahead, I returned to my bedroom and stopped in front of the huge terrarium. I stood there in front of it, contemplating the life choices that led me to this moment. The tank was huge, almost as tall as it was wide. I wasn’t ever going to be playing basketball so I was glad to find two doors on the front that I could put him through instead of trying to reach inside from the top. Now I just had to actually do it. I opened the doors and faced him in his smaller tank, staring at me. I really didn’t want to do this.

  “Please, Finn. Take pity on me. Just let me carry you to your home. No jumping, no croaking, no unnecessary movement. Okay?”

  He blinked in what I told myself was agreement and I picked him up. If Kyra had seen me, she would have either been disgusted with me or made fun of me for weeks. Probably both. But I didn’t care how ridiculous I looked with my owl-themed oven mitts. I couldn’t handle the thought of touching him. I needed a layer, several layers, of protection between my skin and the amphibian’s. It made me feel a little bit better and soon he was behind closed doors with
no incident.

  “Thank you, frog. I appreciate your cooperation.”

  As a reward, although some might consider my singing voice a punishment upon humanity, I sang him a rousing parody of Katy Perry’s famous song, now retitled “I Kissed a Frog.” It wasn't the nightly lullaby I promised, but I sang nonetheless, dedicating my performance to Kyra. I hoped she appreciated me because I felt like an idiot. I felt like a bigger idiot when I bowed to him in acknowledgment of his imaginary applause. As I clicked off the bedside lamp and settled into bed, I ruminated on the state of my life. I am a grown ass woman and I just serenaded a damn frog. There could be a reason I hadn’t had a decent relationship in longer than I cared to think about.

  My dreams tended to be rather vivid and I truly hoped that tonight's wouldn't be filled with visions of big, green frogs with some sort of weird ability to communicate with humans. I kept my word to Kyra and the terrarium sat inches from my head, too close for comfort. Even in the dark, I could feel his big, froggy eyes staring at me in that weird, unblinking, almost human way that he had.

  I tried to resist the pull, tried to resist looking. But the force was strong. Sleep wasn’t going to come until I gave in and looked, so I turned the lamp back on before rolling back to face the tank again. I knew it! Sure enough, there he sat, perched on his mossy rock staring right at me. As much as I hated to admit it, the damn thing was kind of cute. That is, if you happened to be the sort of person that thought fat, green creatures with bulging eyes were cute. Which I wasn’t. But even I could see that he looked lonely and I knew that feeling too damn well. I finally fell asleep in uneasy solidarity with the frog…

  I’m sorry, Cass. I was a total bitch yesterday. I love you.