The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters

by C. A. Newsome

  “This is what we missed,” he said. “The simple things we used to love to do together. We let them get lost in the shuffle of bigger things.”

  Alicia only nodded and chewed on her lip as tears again threatened.

  “Babe, look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she met his gaze, and the protest about his use of the pet name died in her throat.

  “I can’t just let you go. I still love you too much.”

  “Tucker, we’ve already talked to a lawyer, and we’ve already started filling out the paperwork for our divorce.”

  “I don’t care. I have to know that there is absolutely nothing left between us to fight for.” He took her face in his hands, tenderly brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. “And I don’t. I know there’s still something.”

  She closed her eyes to keep the tears locked inside. She wanted more than anything to give their love one more chance, but they’d given it dozens of chances, and every one had failed. This would be no different because what little remained wasn’t strong enough to overcome the rift that had opened between them. They’d proven that time and again.

  “Just one kiss, Allie,” Tucker whispered. “One kiss to prove there’s nothing left. If there isn’t, I’ll let you go, but if there’s even a spark of what we used to have… please, let’s start over and find what we lost.”

  “How can one kiss prove anything?”

  “It can prove a lot.”

  “This is insane.”

  “Maybe it is, but I have to try. But I won’t without your permission.”

  His blue eyes searched hers, begging her to comply. The hope inscribed in his lopsided smile reminded her of the boy she’d first fallen in love with in high school, and despite the months of fading romance, her heart melted. The part of her that was resigned to their divorce thought this was ridiculous, but the rest of her fervently hoped there was enough love left to give them a reason to try again, so she nodded.

  With enchanting tenderness, he tilted her chin up and lowered his head. When he angled his body against hers, desire flashed through her, but it was nothing compared to the enveloping flood of emotion that rampaged through her when their lips met. She moaned and pressed her body more tightly against him, giving in to her instinctive need to be close to him. The tears streamed down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing herself up on her toes to kiss him more deeply.

  It was far more powerful than a spark, and her heart soared as joy mingled with desire. That single kiss conveyed his enduring devotion, and for the first time in longer than she could recall, she felt cherished, adored, like she was the only woman he’d ever need or want.

  “I love you,” she whispered against his lips. “I love you so much. But how do we fix this?”

  “We start taking walks again, every night. We make time for us. Because I love you, and now I know you still love me.”

  “I never stopped loving you. I just… forgot why I did.”

  “Let me help you remember.”

  Without warning, he picked her up, swung her around so she was straddling his waist like a horse, and took off up the dock at a trot. Laughter spilled out of her as the tears continued to flow, and relief coursed through her with sweet intensity. He was right. They had let the simple delight in each other slip away, and all those times they had tried to rediscover what had brought them together in the first place, they had overlooked it. Never again, Alicia vowed, resting her cheek against Tucker’s back. Closing her eyes, she smiled. Maybe there were no guarantees that they could make it work, but the relief and this spark of lost passion rekindled her hope that they would.

  * * *

  Suzie O’Connell is the author of the Northstar Angels series, contemporary romances set in scenic Montana. The first three books in the series, Mountain Angel, Summer Angel, and Twice Shy, are out, with the fourth book, Wild Angel, to be released in early 2014. When she isn’t writing, Suzie can be found with a camera in hand, playing in the mountains with her husband, daughter, and golden retriever. Visit her site at:

  www.suzieoconnell.com

  *

  Strangers

  Holli Spaulding

  We all start as strangers. Whether we meet on a bus, a train, work, in line at Starbucks, or on a park bench, we all have to start somewhere. Most strangers come into our life for a brief moment, just passing through like leaves in the wind. But some strangers come into our lives when we need it most. Just when we think our lives might be over or when things can’t get much worse, a stranger might just walk by and change everything you thought you knew.

  *

  I’m sitting on a bench at what used to be my favorite park. My dad would take me here every day after school when I was a kid. Now I come here every year on the anniversary of his death, trying to remember a happier time in my life. It’s littered with trash, broken bottles and graffiti. The weeds have grown so tall that they brush my shoulders as I sit. Cuss words, penises, and gang signs are drawn all over the slide and tunnel. Kids these days are so unoriginal. If you’re going to leave your mark on something, make it memorable, passionate, or at least funny. It doesn’t look like it’s been used in years. The park has just withered away and died.

  I sink back into the bench, close my eyes, and allow myself to remember my dad. I can almost feel the wind in my hair as he pushes me higher on the swing. As I pump my legs faster and faster, I swear they can reach the clouds. I used to think if I could swing just a little bit higher, pump my legs a little bit faster, I could jump out of my swing and land among the clouds.

  “Ready to jump on the count of three, Stella?” My dad says. He’s talking in a serious tone, like we’re in a life or death situation. He was always so dramatic, adding excitement and drama to my everyday life. “If you choose to stay in the swing and not jump, the planet will face mass destruction. A spell will be broken, causing all the zombie’s to rise from their graves. But if you choose to jump, if you choose to take that leap of faith and soar into the sky, you’ll save everyone from the mother of all zombie apocalypses. You’ll conquer your fear of flying, as well as saving your fellow Americans!”

  “YES! I’m ready. Give me a countdown.” I giggle. I grip tightly to the chains, willing my beating heart to calm down. Excitement courses through me as my dad begins his countdown.

  “One, two, two and a half, two and three quarters.”

  “DAD! Just count to three already. I’m growing old up here and I think I see zombie hands trying to come out of the ground. Hurry up and count before it’s too late!”

  “Three, JUMP!” I get my momentum and leap from my swing into the air. I stretch my fingertips out as far as I can, and try my hardest to swipe my fingertips through the fluffy clouds. I land in the soft sand, and roll over onto my back and stare up at the sky that seems so far out of reach. My dad walks up and lies down beside me in the sand.

  “You did it my sweet, brave girl. You saved us all. How will I ever repay you?” He takes his hat off and holds it over his heart.

  “If you really want to repay me, you’ll tell mom to let me have ice cream for dinner for one week, with chocolate syrup on top. Oh, and sprinkles.”

  “Deal. We most definitely can’t forget the sprinkles.” He reaches over and kisses my forehead. “What you did today was very brave. Most kids can’t say that they saved an entire planet.” He looks over at me and gives me a small wink.

  “But daddy, it was just pretend. I didn’t really save the planet today. I just jumped out of a swing.”

  “Yes, you’re right. You did just jump out of a swing. But remember last week how you were scared to jump? You were scared you were going to fall and hurt yourself. I want you to always remember that you are good enough. If you can learn that, then you will never be afraid to try new things and you will never be too scared to fail.” I look over and smile at my dad and I am so happy because I have the best dad in the whole wide world.

  I am rustled out of my daydream by the slow
creaking of the swing set. As I lift my head I see a boy about my age staring at me. He is wearing faded jeans, a Depeche Mode t-shirt, and a worn pair of converse. He has a small smile playing on his lips but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes look like they hold years of sadness. I bend my head down and wipe the tears that I didn’t know were streaming down my face.

  “What were you thinking about just now? You looked so peaceful lost in your daydream. Then your face became sad and you started to cry.” He has his head tilted to one side as if he’s studying me.

  I lift my face up to meet his and I just stare at him. This is my place of peace. Why is he here? Nobody is ever at this park. I only come here once a year and allow myself to remember a happier time in my life, and I don’t want to share this day with anyone.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him rudely.

  “Well, the last time I checked, this was a free country. I can be at this park if I’d like. Why are you here? It’s obvious to both of us this park has been abandoned for years, so what brings us both to this park today?” He says thoughtfully. Smart ass.

  I take a deep breath, and remember what my dad told me years ago. I need to not be so afraid to try new things. This boy is a complete stranger, one who I will never see again after today, so I choose to take that leap off the swing and open myself up to someone, in hopes that I can relieve some of this pain I carry around with me every day.

  “I come here once a year to remember my dad. This park used to be beautiful. There were wild flowers growing all around this very bench, and there was a stone walkway leading to that swing set your sitting on, and of course it didn’t used to creak like it does now. I’m too chicken shit to actually visit his grave, so I come here instead.” I whisper out. “Your turn, why are you here?”

  “I’ve been coming to this swing set every day for about 5 months now. I come here to escape my reality. There is something peaceful about this place.” He softly says. He’s right. He’s so very right. The park is like its own little sanctuary. A sanctuary that allows sinners like me inside.

  “How did your dad die?” Oh shit, we are entering really personal territory.

  “We are just diving right in with the heavy questions aren’t we? How about we start with something simple. What’s your name?”

  “My name is River. What’s yours?” A small smile creeps up on my lips. I love that name.

  “Estelle, but people call me Stella.”

  “Well Stella, it’s nice to meet you.” He hops out of the swing and extends his hand to me. I look down at it, weary to reach out and grasp him. I slowly reach out and grab his hand and his fingers softly curl around my own. The moment our hands touch, I find myself never wanting to let go. I think he can sense it too because we stay there grasping hands for what seems like an eternity.

  We sit and talk for hours. About books, music, school, our childhoods. He plays guitar, and I play the piano. We have a lot of things in common. We leave the heavy topics aside, and for that I’m grateful. The sun is starting to set towards the west, and I close my eyes and take in that last few minutes of the sun’s warmth hitting my face. I look over towards River and he is doing the same. While he has his eyes closed, I study his face, knowing this is the last time I will see him. I want to remember everything about this day. How he made me smile, laugh, and actually feel emotion again. But I know that as soon as I leave, the feeling of loneliness will wash over me, and the darkness will creep back in.

  “You asked me how my dad died.” He opens his eyes and looks up at me, and nods his head. “We were playing at this very park. I just did my first jump out of a swing and he was so proud of me. I told him I wanted ice cream for a week because I jumped out of the swing and saved the world.” He gives me a funny look and I just laugh and continue. “And he of course told me yes. We walked home that night and after dinner my dad tells me he will be right back in a few minutes with my ice cream. Well, he never came back. He was in a car accident and he never came back. River, he never came back.” I choke back the tears, willing myself not to cry. If I didn’t have to have ice cream that night my dad might still be here. I carry around so much guilt for what happened. Rationally I know it wasn’t my fault that he died, but I ask myself the what if questions daily, and I drive myself crazy with guilt. As each day passes, the guilt consumes a little bit more of my soul.

  River puts an arm around me and guides my head to his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything. He just wraps his arm around me and lets me cry.

  “God, I’m so sorry. We don’t even know each other, and here I am crying like a girl on your shoulder.” How embarrassing. There’s another emotion I’m not used to. Embarrassment.

  “Well, you are a girl, so it’s ok. At least I hope you’re a girl, this whole day might be a little awkward if you aren’t.” I laugh and shove him in the arm. “That shove you just gave me totally proves you’re a girl.” I give him my best scowl.

  “You might want to watch yourself. I’ve been known to throw a nasty punch.” He is laughing at me now. Well I’m glad one of us thinks I’m funny. “Well thank you. For today; for everything.” I give River a small smile and get up to leave to go home. He gently grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him.

  “Same time tomorrow? Please meet me back here tomorrow. I’d like to spend the day with you again.” He is pleading at me with his eyes, and it’s tugging at my heart. Damn you River. I give him a slight nod and turn to leave. I know I won’t be meeting him back here tomorrow. I don’t plan on being here after tonight. I want it all to end. The pain, guilt, and grief have taken its toll on me and I don’t think I can do it anymore. I’m drowning and I can’t pull myself up.

  “Estelle.” His voice holds a command that makes me stop in my tracks and turn around to look at him. “Remember that the beauty of life is, while we can’t undo what has already happened, we can try to understand it, and change for the better because of it. So that every moment after isn’t spent in guilt, fear, or regret, but in understanding.” I slowly nod my head, and turn to walk away.

  The walk back to my house seems like it takes forever. River’s words hit me like a punch in the gut and the emotions I am feeling are starting to freak me out. When I finally reach my house, I walk inside, up the stairs, and into my bathroom. I open up the medicine cabinet and take out the bottles of pills that I’ve been saving for today. I planned on going to the park, coming home and taking this bottle of pills, and then sleeping forever. As I am staring at this tiny orange bottle, a million different emotions are running through my head. Ending my life tonight would end all possibilities of my life ever getting better.

  River’s words mean a lot to me. Everything he said is so true. I shouldn’t spend my days living in fear and guilt. I need to look forward and look towards tomorrow. If my dad could see me now, he would not be proud of the girl I have become. What if I never met River today? I would have already taken these pills, and my mom would have had to wake up in the morning and find me in my bed. God, I didn’t even think of how this would affect my mom. She’s already been through enough in this life time. When did I turn into such a selfish bitch?

  I take the cap off the pill bottle, and slowly pour the contents into the toilet. As each pill falls out of the bottle it feels like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders. I still have a long road to go, but tonight I’m taking that first step in the right direction. I walk into my bedroom and crawl into bed. I fall asleep tonight, for the first time in years, with a sense of peace. I fall asleep dreaming of a green eyed boy pushing me on a park swing.

  I awake the next morning and rush to the park to meet River. As I round the corner to come up to the park, I stop dead in my tracks. The grass around the park bench has been cut down, and freshly planted flowers are all around it. Whereas yesterday there were weeds and dead grass, today flowers of all colors are softly swaying in the wind. I walk up to the bench and sit down, deeply inhaling the scent of the flowers. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, land
ing like raindrops onto my jeans.

  I can sense him watching me before I see him. I look up and see him leaning up against a tree about 20 feet away. He has a blanket draped over his arm, and a picnic basket sitting in the grass beside his feet. I get up from the park bench and make my ways towards him.

  “I’m so glad you came back. Do you like the flowers?” He reaches out and softly runs his thumb underneath my eyes, drying my tears.

  “I more than like them, I love them River. Thank you so much.” He leans down and kisses my forehead and pulls me in for a hug. I wrap my arms around him and cling to him for dear life. “Thank you for being here at the park yesterday, and for spending the day with me. I can’t even begin to tell you how much it meant to me.”

  “Are you up for a picnic today? I want to take you somewhere, but you can’t get mad. You promise?” He looks nervous to tell me where he wants to take me, which in turn makes me nervous.

  “When someone starts off a sentence with you can’t get mad, usually they are going to get mad.” How could having a picnic possibly make me mad?

  He clears his throat a couple of times before speaking. “I um, I uh, want to go have a picnic with your dad. I thought we could go have lunch with him today.” He barely whispers the last part out, so I struggle to hear what he is saying.

  My mouth pops open and I think I gasp, but I’m not sure. I all of a sudden feel lightheaded. He wants to go to the cemetery and have lunch with my dad? He does realize he’s in the ground right? As in he won’t be there? As in he’s in a coffin, six feet under.