To Kiss You Again

by Brandie Buckwine

  “Ella!” Niko yells. “Come, it’s coffee, not gold. If it spills, the world will not end – you will come again tomorrow.”

  I yawn again, this time, for real. Adrenaline no longer propels me.

  “Are you ready to go?” Matt asks.

  “Soon. Not yet.” I sneak a glance at Ginny, but she doesn’t look as panicked at our suggested departure as before. In fact, she looks exhausted, like she might fall over before she reaches her bed. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  A second wind hits me as Matt stands and hands me my bag. The off-color suggestions from Ginny and Niko at our farewell have me blushing as we make our way to the door. In the street, Matt takes my hand and we turn toward the center of town. The subject of where we are going never comes up, and our pace through the sleepy town is leisurely.

  “When did you start painting?”

  I shrug. “I’ve always drawn – as far back as I can remember. When I was in high school, my parents discouraged me, told me to get serious and focus on my studies. Instead, I skipped classes and snuck off to draw.”

  “So you rebelled by painting?”

  “Pretty much. I was lucky to graduate.”

  “And now? Do they support your choice?”

  The question brings an ache to my gut. By now, I should be used to my black-sheep status, but their approval means the world to me. “No.”

  He changes the subject. “The island is so different from when I was a kid, but the people seem the same, for the most part. It’s a relief.”

  “Have you seen Anna?” I ask, but regret it immediately.

  “Anna? No,” he snorts. “Why?”

  I can’t stop myself. It’s like I’m testing him. “You two were pretty tight. I just figured you’d look her up. She’s not married.”

  He stops walking and brings me to a halt. “Anna is not who I’ve been looking for.” My heart flutters as he pulls me close and reassures me with a kiss, but it is too short, and almost immediately, we are walking again. I am not reassured. Something has changed. Why did I mention it? Does he still think of her? I’m fairly certain she was his first love, just as he was mine. Your first love stays with you and can haunt you for years. Maybe he never really let her go.

  We move more quickly now, and soon we reach the town parking lot and my bike. It never occurs to me that he might not accompany me home, but he hesitates when I secure my bag over my opposite shoulder and begin to mount the Vespa. Alarm bells sound in my head when he doesn’t move to follow. I read the doubt on his face.

  “Maybe we should wait. Meet up tomorrow.”

  I know I’ve screwed things up now, but I’m not sure how. Disappointment grips me. How do I bring him back? “Is something wrong?” Though I try to conceal it, my voice is unsure and wavers.

  Matt shakes his head and takes a step back. “No, nothing at all.” He looks all around – everywhere but at me. “It’s late, and it’s a lot to take in.”

  “Okay.” I lower the kickstand, back to the concrete, and rest on the seat. “I was hoping we could talk some more.” Maybe if he doesn’t think I want immediate gratification, he’ll relax. Although, after our encounter on the ferry, I’m finding it hard to believe he would be shy about sex.

  “We will. Tomorrow. I’ll come over tomorrow and we can talk.”

  “You don’t know the way.”

  “Ginny can tell me. I’ll find you, don’t worry.”

  Some of his aloofness is gone, and he leans to kiss me. The earnestness of his kiss gives me hope. Perhaps he is just tired.

  “Tomorrow,” he says, releasing me and backing away.

  “Tomorrow.” I wait, still leaning on the bike, and watch until he turns the corner into the deserted Agora. Because of the late hour, I push the Vespa to the outskirts of town. When I finally start the engine, I feel more alone than ever before. Tears sting my eyes as I leave the town behind, and I convince myself the wind causes them.

  Part VI

  Call me crazy. I deserved it. Crazy to leave her, and even crazier to stand her up the next day. I’ve never pulled up short like that before, but the whole not recognizing me thing bugged the shit out of me. As we walked to her motorcycle and she talked about drawing since she was a kid, I remembered her drawing me a few times. There was no way in hell a person could study another that closely and draw a blank when they saw them again, even if it was years later. She had to have known me on the boat. Why would she hide it?

  The romanticized view of her in my head changed to accommodate a battier version. She was obviously playing some kind of game – back to her youthful, freaky ways, and I didn’t want to be a part of it. Maybe we were both a little crazy.

  “Whoa. What the hell are you doing here?” Ginny asked the next morning when I sauntered to the patio. “I figured you’d be at Jennifer’s.”

  Honestly, I thought I would, too, until the nagging feeling in my mind became too strong to ignore. “It was late and we were both tired. I told her I’d come see her today.” I already knew I wouldn’t.

  Ginny nodded, but looked doubtful. “You can take a taxi or bus almost right to her front door.” She continued her directions as I went into the kitchen for a cup of instant.

  “Okay,” I answered at her pauses. “Yep, I’ll find it.”

  “What’s the matter?” she asked as I sat across from her.

  I widened my eyes. “Nothing at all.”

  “You sure? You seem…off.”

  “Just tired.”

  Niko shuffled through the door of the main house in just his underwear and floppy sandals. “Kali mera,” he mumbled.

  “Good morning, my love. How do you feel?”

  His groan and the dark circles under his eyes answered for him.

  “Take some aspirin,” Ginny said. Niko grunted and headed for the bathroom.

  “Do you have any pictures of me?”

  “Huh?” Ginny turned back to me.

  “You have a pegboard of pictures in the living room, but I’m not on it. Do you keep my picture someplace else?”

  “I have one in my wallet, but it’s your senior picture from high school. I don’t have anything more recent than that. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.”

  “Bullshit. Why?”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t it seem strange to you that Jenny didn’t recognize me on the boat?”

  “Not really. It’s been a long time since she’s seen you. You were a kid back then.”

  “I was sixteen. I look older, but I’m the same. Why didn’t she know me?”

  “I don’t know.” She lit a cigarette.

  “What does she say when you guys talk about me?”

  “We don’t.”

  “Ever?”

  “Nope.”

  “She’s never asked about me?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you wanted to set us up. You didn’t tell her I was here? Or even coming to visit?”

  “Well Matt, she’s been gone for months. She only just got back when you arrived.”

  “But the night at the restaurant, when she helped with the lights, you didn’t mention I was visiting, or that you wanted us to meet?”

  “No, Matt, I didn’t.” She flicked her cigarette against the ashtray so hard, the cherry flew off. “It’s not like I’ve been planning this for years. It only occurred to me when you got here that you two might hit it off.” She struck a wooden match and it flared to life.

  “Even though you knew how I felt about her as a kid?”

  “How did you feel about her as a kid?”

  Was everyone around me crazy? “She was in love with me back then.”

  “Na uh,” Ginny grinned. “She was not.”

  “Yes, she was. How do you not know this? She followed me around all the time. I couldn’t get rid of her.”

  She slapped her knee, laughing. “Oh my God! That is so cute. I had no idea.”

  “It was not cute. It was creepy. Seriously, how do you not know?” I couldn’t s
top shaking my head.

  “Jennifer and I weren’t friends back then. I hung out with Fotini most of the time. We liked playing dolls, and dress-up – Jennifer liked to draw pictures all the time. She was too quiet – kind of a loner, you know?”

  “She drew me.”

  “I know. I have one.”

  I straightened in my chair. “You have one what?”

  “A drawing she did of you years ago.”

  “Can I see it? How did you get it?”

  She stood. “Yeah, I’ll get it. I came across it one day at her house, and she gave it to me.” She disappeared into the house. The muted sound of drawers and cupboards slamming floated across the patio. A moment later, she emerged triumphantly and held out a large sheet.

  “You just have it loose? It’s not framed?”

  She handed me the drawing. “It’s not very good. She sucks at people, and had to tell me it was you. Landscapes are her specialty. She’s really good at landscapes.”

  I found no resemblance. “Are you sure it’s not Johnny Depp?” In a warped kind of way.

  “I know, right? Maybe this is how she remembers you. You may look the same, but I’m sure her memory has changed you over the years. As her memory of you faded, she probably replaced the image she had with the pictures she drew. You need to get over it.”

  It was an interesting theory, but it didn’t clear away my doubts. “I’m probably gonna take off tomorrow.”

  “Take off where?”

  “Back to the States.Or Rhodes. I don’t know yet.” If I didn’t get off that island, Ginny might force me into an unbearable situation. The gears were already turning in her mind, I could tell. I may have been ready to leave Jennifer behind, but Ginny wasn’t about to let it go.

  “Oh, Matt,” she reached over and shook my shoulder. “Don’t obsess. You’re making too big a deal about it. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for why she didn’t know who you were. I don’t want you to leave. Don’t run away.”

  “I’m not running away.” I ran my hand through my hair and chuckled. “There’s no sense staying longer. The opening is over, and I don’t want to play along with whatever game Jenny’s got going in her screwed up little head.”

  Ginny jumped to her feet. “Her screwed up little head? What the fuck is wrong with you, Matt?” Beneath the hair flying though the air as she shook her head, her face flushed. “Yours is the screwed up head! You should leave – better that than push my fucked up brother on her. You don’t deserve her.”

  “Then it’s settled.” I stood and walked away, leaving her sputtering on the patio.

  Out of habit, I headed for the port café, but after an hour or so of watching for someone I no longer sought, I had to do something. I found a tavern and got a bite to eat, but was soon restless again. The waterfront was quiet as most shops had closed for the afternoon, and I followed until I reached the end, and continued inland along the road, over the hill, and out of town.

  My hike lasted over an hour, taking me far away from civilization. I turned off the main road onto a donkey trail, either side framed by a stone wall. The path abruptly ended its main trail at a large house, but continued toward the sea as a narrow dirt track. The walk in the mid-day sun had me drenched in sweat, and I considered following the path for a swim, but the sound of New Orleans blues drifting from the house piqued my curiosity.

  The drumming of my pulse threatened to drown out any warnings, so I proceeded with great caution around the side of the building, hugging the whitewashed, stone wall as closely as possible. A sweet humming accompanied the music, but I couldn’t see her as I peeked around the corner. The veranda sat deserted in the heat of the afternoon, but the tune floated on the breeze from within the house.

  My current position wouldn’t work for long. With no cover, I was bound to be discovered. I slipped up the marble stairs to see beyond the railing of the balcony. Across a dried up gully lay a grouping of outbuildings, one of them high enough to offer a good view. I retreated down the stairs, back to the donkey path. A direct route would leave me exposed, so I headed back down the road to come at the position from a hidden angle.

  Once inside the taller of the abandoned buildings, I found a crumbling, partial stairway and carefully made my way to the top. Most of the roof was gone, and a part of the wall facing the sea had given way. I moved a few of the rocks to make a flat surface from which I could observe, and found a pair of small scorpions hiding beneath their dank protection. A couple of twists into the floor with my shoe took care of the problem, and I settled in to take up the watch.

  Seeing into the house didn’t work out as I’d hoped, so I fished my camera out of the pack at my feet. With the zoom, I saw her clearly. She seemed happy enough, though maybe a little nervous – but then, she didn’t know I wasn’t coming. For most of the afternoon, she painted, stopping every fifteen minutes or so to look out the window facing the front of the house. Guilt tugged at my conscience, but I reminded myself she was probably nuts, so I was doing the right thing. For once, I was glad for my old fashioned camera. No need to worry about a failed battery. It was kind of funny – the zoom lens and hours spent keeping an eye on her brought on some crazy déjà vu.

  Back in the day with Anna, we spent a good deal of time looking for places to make out. One day she told me she found a new spot and gave me directions. We planned to meet there, since we couldn’t be seen together in public. If the wrong person saw us without a chaperone, Anna’s reputation was toast – people would assume the worst.

  It was about an hour before dark when I found the location and climbed the stairs to the old dovecote. Anna waited at the top, bundled tightly in her thin coat. The damp and chilliness of the day kept her from letting me inside the coat or her dress, but I was able to guide her hand into my pants. She left me before the job was done, saying her mother would wonder what kept her, and gave me explicit instructions to wait fifteen minutes before I left, so no one could make a connection between us should they see us on the same street in too short a time.

  With time to kill, I peered out one of the small triangular openings of the dovecote. Below, the garden of the fruit and vegetable store’s owner stretched several acres wide. Edging the garden on one side was a block of attached homes – the back sides – no doors, only windows. In the coming darkness, one bright window stood out, open to the cool December breeze. Leaning out at a precarious angle, Jenny blew smoke from a cigarette into the wind. A Nirvana tune drifted along with the smoke, and Jenny chased it with her sweet voice, crying out the lyrics to Smells Like Teen Spirit – the perfect tune to accompany a thirteen year-old sneaking a cigarette outside her window.

  I was giddy with excitement, and felt as though I’d hit the mother lode. Finally, I could keep an eye on her, would know when I was safe from her prying eyes. From high atop the dovecote, her room opened to my view, even more so when I returned the next evening with the camera my dad gave me for my birthday. Through the zoom lens, I could see everything she did, though I was careful to turn away if she undressed, or examined her budding form in the mirror.

  Watching her now felt a little sinister, after all, I no longer needed to be wary of her following me, but I couldn’t help myself. Was it possible for her memory of me to deteriorate so much that she wouldn’t know me now? I thought of friends I had at thirteen. Would I know them if I saw them today? Time does funny things to our recollection of people, places, and events. If I was honest with myself, her following me didn’t bother at the time, except that it pissed Anna off. It wasn’t until after the kiss at the windmill – until she began to consume my daydreams – that I concluded it was creepy. It was the only way I could get her out of my head. The only way to free myself from her spell.

  Just as she had all those years ago, she once again held me spellbound, and like the old days, I imagined myself in the room with her as I watched, talking, laughing…kissing. The bond we formed in my mind came rushing back. My love for Jenny – baby girl.


  Part VII

  The day drags, and I wait. My work helps occupy the time, but now, Eight Leg Aquarium looks as anxious as I feel. Way too much red and orange for a seascape. I remove what I can with the palette knife and a rag wetted with turpentine. In place of my octopus, I now have a large blotch. Perhaps this is not the time to paint, but I must occupy myself somehow. I can’t sit around twiddling my thumbs.

  By late afternoon, I decide he must be waiting for evening. I expected him in the morning – lunchtime at the latest, and I wonder why he waits. Something in his manner before we parted makes me uneasy. It’s my own fault for mentioning Anna. I didn’t expect him to react with anything more than a passing interest, but obviously, his tie to her is stronger than any bond between us – real or imagined.

  The day is warm, and a swim might clear my head. I have a few hours before evening falls, so I clean my brushes and walk down to the beach. Before I remove my clothes, I peer nervously up the path but there is no sign of him. As I remove my dress, I can’t help but imagine him watching me disrobe. Would he like what saw? My nipples snap to attention in the full sun and tingles run from the stiffened points to my… Fuck! Why does he make me wait?

  Sudden modesty makes me wait to touch myself, even in just my own company. The shallow waves slow my pace as I run and dive into the bay, breaking against the tops of my feet, making me sluggish. The rush of cool water envelopes my body and heightens my senses. Once I slow and roll to my back, I reach for the dull ache between my legs. All day it has reminded me that Matt remained in town, refused to come with me and finish what started on the trip. Though I finger myself madly, my own desire mocks me and refuses to give me any satisfaction. My feet meet the sand and I stand, try harder, pinch my nipples, imagine his mouth there, his firm body under my touch.

  “Come on, baby,” I growl. “Fuck me.”

  Two fingers slide in and out of my channel and my thumb teases my clit, but I remain on a plateau, even when I redouble my efforts from soft and gentle to hard and fast. By the time it begins, my hand is numb and worn out, and the orgasm I chase fizzles out. There is no relief. Stressed and embarrassed by my own fervor, I check the path again. It remains deserted.