How to Catch a Kiss (Kisses & Commitment)

by Sarah Gay

  On her ride home, she gazed out at the barren fields. The snow had finally melted, leaving a tinge of green across the dry land. The moonlight silhouetted the arid countryside of sagebrush and tall grasses zipping past Tori’s window as she contemplated her words to Zee. She regretted being so harsh with him, but wasn’t sure how else to successfully let him go.

  She had put him in a position to do that one thing that she herself couldn’t do, move on.

  The hired car pulled into Tori’s driveway as Gussie opened the front door. Gussie stood with one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face, prepared to scold. She knew something, and by the looks of things, she was about to let Tori have it.

  “Are you serious?” Gussie laid in.

  Tori was already emotionally spent. “Gussie, please don’t.” She shook her head. “Why did he have to call you?”

  “Well. I don’t know, maybe because you just destroyed the man.”

  “I can’t give him what he wants, Gussie.”

  “Why?” She pursed her lips.

  “You know why,” Tori said, plowing past her as she walked inside.

  “No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”

  “My relationship with Jim was perfect. He was perfect and I’ll never have that again. I never want that again.”

  “First, Jim wasn’t perfect. He was MIA for the first three years of Ethan’s life.”

  Tori’s blood started to boil. “He wasn’t always gone. And we would do our getaways together.”

  “You’re looking through rose-colored glasses, just like I did when Casey left me.”

  “I told you to stop comparing our situations.”

  “And this has nothing to do with the fact that it’s your anniversary today?”

  “No,” Tori lied.

  “And, you don’t feel like you’re cheating on Jim with Zee?”

  “No,” she lied again, but Gussie was taking this too far. She had no right. “This is my life, Gussie. Not yours.”

  “You’re wrong. You are me, and I’m you. And, like it or not, I’ll always be here to tell you when you’re making the wrong decision. You’re scared of opening yourself up for fear of losing again, but you’re losing him right now, Tori. Wake up!”

  “What happened to, if you must ask it, then you must do it?” Tori lay down on the couch, placing Rambo onto her chest.

  “Looks like we’re both really good liars,” Gussie said, storming out of the room.

  Tori’s adrenaline shivers turned to nausea. She closed her eyes, willing her stomach to calm.

  “Mom?” Ethan poked around the corner. “You okay?”

  “I’m not sure, baby.”

  He sat at her side on the floor, silent. She reached down, taking his hand.

  “Gussie is upset that Zee and I broke up.”

  “You dumped him?” Ethan questioned, dropping her hand.

  “I had to.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t love him the way he wants.”

  “That’s selfish,” Ethan said with distain. “You can, you just won’t.”

  Tori opened her eyes, placing her hand on Ethan’s head. “Are you disappointed?”

  “All you think about is yourself.” He jumped up and screamed, “I hate you!”

  Rambo snuggled in under Tori’s chin and licked the tears tumbling off her jawline. “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart,” she whispered.

  25

  The sky brightened to full light well before the sun rose above Mount Olympus. Tori sat under the pergola in the refugee gardens, sipping her cup of hot cocoa. She needed sugar, chocolate, and warmth. Whoever invented hot cocoa was genius, most likely a female savant.

  When Tori first arrived, three deer pranced out of the gardens. They had made their mark on at least two of the boxes. Deer were revered for their grace, strength, and elegance. But when they found their way into the gardens, animosity ensued. In a few short hours, the deer had the ability to chew their way through months of growth.

  Tori had woken up at five o’clock that morning, but, instead of tossing in her bed, thinking about last night’s conversations, she tore out for the gardens. It was the one place that brought her peace. She needed to get her fingers in the dirt. Why was mud so darn therapeutic?

  Her plan was to weed her friends’ vegetable boxes, then visit her mother. Tori grabbed a pail and gloves and set to work.

  After weeding for about half an hour in Anita’s garden, Tori started to second-guess what she was pulling. Maybe these weed-looking sprigs were an edible delicacy. Her Bhutanese friends had shown her a plant which resembled a fern-like weed, but it had medicinal properties. Women would boil the herb in milk and drink it for pain relief during labor. It had a peppery taste, similar to Zee’s smell.

  She shook her head to clear her mind. There was only one thing to do. She sat on the ground, picked up a few of the plants she had pulled, and stuffed them into her mouth. It only took two seconds to realize that they were, in fact, weeds. The bitter weeds were laced with grainy sand. She spat them out and feverishly gulped down her remaining hot chocolate.

  “Tori?” Anita stood above her with a quizzical look on her face.

  “Oh, hi, Anita. I woke early and thought I would come weed.”

  “Maybe you lack the iron, and this is why you eat the dirt.” She pointed to Tori’s chin, splattered with mud from her weed eating moment.

  Tori wiped her chin. She had heard of women craving dirt in developing countries when they were pregnant and anemic. Was Anita asking her if she was pregnant?

  “I’m not pregnant, Anita. Why do people think that?”

  “You have baby?” She smiled, looking at Tori’s stomach. “I come to get the chicken eggs and talk with Zee.”

  “No!” Tori exclaimed, not sure how to untangle herself from the stringy mess she had created.

  Anita’s eyes widened. “Come. Sit. You are working too hard on hot day.”

  It hadn’t reached sixty degrees yet, and, no matter how wonderful it would be to sit and chat with Anita, Tori couldn’t be caught in the gardens when Zee arrived.

  “I need to leave.”

  “Problems? You are well, Tori?”

  “I’m okay. Zee and I aren’t dating anymore.”

  “Because of baby?”

  “No, Anita.” Tori waved her hands. “No baby.”

  Anita nodded her head, but there was a hint of disbelief in her eyes.

  “You are sad to not date Zee? You love him?”

  “Yes, I love him.” Saying those words sent a cleansing wave of relief through her, washing her soul. “And yes, very sad. And my son is very sad. And my sister is very sad. No. My sister and son are not only sad, they’re mad at me.”

  “Then why are you not with Zee?”

  She didn’t have the energy to explain herself again. “It’s complicated.”

  “We are all connected,” Anita said, interlocking her fingers. “It is not good for us to disconnect from one another. Ubuntu. You are better because of your son, your sister, and Zee, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “When we do not express, and when we do not find positive way to be together—ubuntu is not strong. The community is at risk when we disconnect.” She pulled her hands apart.

  Tori caught movement near the pergola. A camera man had already set up his equipment.

  “Those guys keep appearing out of nowhere.”

  Anita shrugged her shoulders. “He was here when I come.”

  “He was? How did I miss that?”

  “You were eating dirt.” Anita laughed.

  Tori hurried to her car and sped away. She needed comforting arms. She arrived at her mother’s rehabilitation center a half an hour later.

  Her recent lack of sleep overtook her when she entered her mother’s dark bedroom and allowed her body to relax. She stood at her mother’s side for a few minutes, watching her chest rise and fall. Her mother’s breath rattled softly with every respiration.

  Tori’s eye
lids grew heavy. She quietly removed her shoes, and, with as little disturbance as possible, lifted her mother’s hand-sewn quilt, and snuggled in at her side.

  Tori was relieved that, although her mother was in her later years, and living in an assisted care center during her treatments, her skin retained the scent of peppermint and lavender lotion. Tori matched her mother’s breath, slowly drifting into the most peaceful sleep that she had had in months. She was taken back to her early childhood, when all that mattered was a pink polka dot dress and a Popsicle.

  Three dreams later, her stomach woke to the smell of cured pork. “You know I’m a sucker for bacon.” Tori rolled over and stretched her body with a moan before opening her eyes.

  Her mother was seated at the end of the bed, dressed in a white dress and holding a plate of eggs and bacon.

  Tori’s blood pressure shot up. “Am I dead?” She patted her chest.

  “And you were my least dramatic child.”

  “But we kept you young,” Tori said with a slight lilt.

  “That you did, sugar.”

  Tori melted into her mother’s words. She met her mother’s concerned eyes with her own eyes of anguish. Her mother was dying and Tori would lose her rock.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not dead yet.”

  “Why haven’t I died yet, Mom? Your dad’s mom died of heartbreak after she lost her husband. Why haven’t I?”

  “Because you’re stronger than that. And I’ve never been more proud of you,” she said, punctuating every word.

  “You’re not going to ask about Zee?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s your decision. Talking to me about Zee is your decision. Deciding what is best for you, is your decision. I will trust you to make the best decision for you and Ethan.”

  “I don’t always make the best decisions.”

  “Do any of us? And yet, I have no regrets. I’ve lived through two difficult marriages, which have impacted me and my children. You, on the other hand, have had a fulfilling and joyous marriage. I would trust that if you decided to remain with Zee, that would be a good decision as well.”

  “You like Zee?”

  Her mother’s face brightened. “I loved the smile on your face when you two were here, after that ridiculous color run.”

  “I was happy that day.”

  “Why are you using the past tense here?” Her mother questioned, grabbing Tori by the shoulders. “Cancer can be a blessing. It allows us to counsel with our children. The advice I would leave with you is to love more. Open your heart.”

  “But my heart is with Jim, and always will be.”

  “Do you think Jim is in agony right now?”

  “No, I think he is at peace and enjoying his time with his mom, his dad, his brother…”

  “Then why are you torturing yourself? Is this what Jim would have wanted? For you to wallow in your own tears, slump around town, and pine for him the rest of your life? Or would he want you to be happy, and for Ethan to have a father again?”

  “I thought you weren’t going to give me advice concerning Zee?”

  “I’m not. I’m giving you advice on giving and receiving love. Don’t allow all your mother’s life experiences and knowledge to go to waste. Love more, and allow others to love you back,” she said, kissing Tori on the forehead. “I love you, sugar.”

  Tori closed her eyes and begged her mind to record the sweet feeling created by her mother’s verbal affection and touch.

  On her hour-long drive home, Tori contemplated why she held in her pain. As her mother had said, Jim was no longer in pain. He was in a state of peace and joy. Why was she holding the pain of losing him hostage in her chest?

  She prayed with humility to know the answer and understand how she could stop the pain. As she drove up the windy canyon, the answer came to her like the soft brush of a butterfly wing on her cheek. She needed to face the debilitating fear that clenched her soul when Jim passed. She needed to trust that he wanted her to be happy. That he was happy. With that knowledge, she could hope and have joy again.

  Tori reached down for Ethan’s hand as they walked through the old cemetery. The heat beat down on them, just as it had done almost two years ago when Jim had been interred.

  They made their way through the rows of old tombstones, some dating back as early as the late 1800s. The upright marker that she’d chosen for Jim was perfect. It was of a cowboy, riding his horse while tipping his hat, carved beautifully into the white granite. She missed how Jim would tip his hat to her when he came in through the front door after his weekly ride. They’d sold Jim’s horse when Ethan was born. The plan was to buy another one a year or two after the sale, but Jim started traveling every week.

  Ethan squeezed Tori’s hand as they stood in front of Jim’s marker. “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we watch those old movies today where you and dad got married? And the other one where he took us camping and I caught my first fish?”

  “Absolutely.” Tori took a deep breath and said a silent prayer for what was to follow. “Your father gave me something very special when we got married that signifies our eternal love for each other and you. Tori steadied herself by placing her free hand on Jim’s marker. She then removed the wedding band from her finger and kissed it.

  “Love you, always,” she whispered to Jim as a single tear found its way to the corner of her eye and tumbled down her cheek.

  She turned to Ethan. “No matter who I love in the future, you and daddy will be my first loves and always own a piece of my heart.”

  “In the future? You mean like Zee?”

  Tori nodded her head while her tears continued. Before Jim’s passing, she wasn’t one to cry. Now that she’d become accustomed to the habit, she understood the cleansing power of a good cry and allowed her tears to wash her soul, whenever and wherever.

  “You okay, Mom?”

  “Yeah, I just really miss your daddy sometimes.” She wrapped Ethan up in her arms like a caterpillar spinning her cocoon. “He loved you so much.”

  “But,” he said, wiggling out of her webbing, “Zee loves us now, so you don’t need to cry for daddy anymore.”

  “I’ll always cry for daddy,” she said between tears. “Always.”

  “Why?”

  Tori’s breath constricted. A mother should never have to explain this to her son. “I’ll always love and miss him. And he’ll always be your daddy, no matter who else comes into our lives.”

  “Oh.” Ethan tipped his head to the ground. “I miss him too. I like having a dad.”

  “Life tends to throw curve balls sometimes, but we’re strong, right?”

  “Right,” he agreed, steeling his face.

  “I want you to have this ring now,” she said, handing him the ring. “We’ll put it someplace safe until it fits your finger.”

  Ethan held the ring up, examining in for a minute, then wrapped his arms around his mom and wept into her breast. She felt a sudden calm trickle through her. Tori wasn’t sure if it was Jim releasing her, or her releasing Jim. She was now at peace with his passing. She was at peace with her decision to move forward, to love more, and to allow others into her life.

  26

  Zee sat back in the office chair with his feet up on the production desk, finishing his tasteless yogurt in the dimly lit, post-production room. He had arrived ahead of his crew, and took a moment to wallow in self-pity.

  This room had always been one of excitement for him, where his documentaries were spliced and tweaked, finishing with the sound adjustment. The digital flat screen on the wall would soon swallow his heartache with footage of people who had lost everything except their will to live and love.

  Zee didn’t have much desire to love or live at the moment. When he had arrived back at that odious dining table in Park City he was emotionally destroyed by the woman he adored.

  How do you pick up the pieces of two failed tries? Having to expl
ain to Kathy that he wasn’t interested in rekindling their relationship was not well received. He had to toss the shirt she violated with her mango chutney in the waste basket on his way out of the restaurant. This is what movies are made of, folks, he’d wanted to scream, but didn’t. Instead, he had slammed the door of his rental car, driven to his hotel, and whimpered himself to sleep like an infant. He had lost his dream.

  “Zee!” his normally reserved employee, Alex, yelled as he bounced into the room. “You’ve got to see this!”

  “Bring it on,” Zee said. Alex’s positive attitude was infectious, and Zee desperately needed to be infected. “I could use some good footage today.”

  Alex crossed his arms. “We have to wait for everyone else.”

  “Why?” Zee wasn’t in good humor today to deal with this rookie’s games.

  “Because over the past few weeks, ever since you got back from your cousin’s wedding and that last interview session in Utah, you’ve been a complete jerk to everyone. But I get it. She hurt you, man.”

  “Be honest with me. That’s all I ask. Just say it like it is.”

  “You’ve asked us to be this way with you,” Alex said, raising his eyebrows and motioning to his co-workers, Josh and Curt, who just entered the room. “Real, remember?”

  “Sure,” Zee said apathetically, throwing his empty yogurt cup in the trash.

  Excited chatter erupted amongst the group as they sat at and lit their laptop screens, which would soon control the flat screen monitor; the monitor which was about to show Zee something he had to see.

  “Now,” Alex began, “when Josh was evaluating lighting and adjusting the wireless mics, that is where the magic happened.” He nodded his head like a nerdy character from the ‘80s, Sixteen Candles film.

  “This better be good.” Zee grit his teeth in annoyance of this young kid’s monologue.

  The studio lights dimmed as the wall-mounted screen brightened. The film clip began with a landscaped view that spanned the width of the gardens. It slowly locked on to two women who were bent over a recently fertilized and tilled box. They appeared to be planting seeds.