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I need a
change, Sara told herself once more. You have
been dependable, bland – and untouched – for long enough. Now, it’s
not like she was planning to fornicate or anything, but losing her lip-ginity sounded safe enough. Just one kiss. That’s all she wanted; so she had agreed to go out on another date with
Brian, who was a really nice, really handsome – and extremely boring guy. Tomorrow,
he’d be headed home for good, and Sara figured this was the one – he would
finally kiss her on this date – if she could get through this excruciatingly,
intensely, and pathologically boring conversation.
Think about anything. Think about his eyes, his broad shoulders
… his lips … and how it will be like when he kisses you. Just hold on for a
few more minutes, Sara. Then, it’ll all be worth it.
She knew when she got into this that he was not Mr. Right by any stretch.
She’d even called him her Mr. Right Now, considering this a summer fling.
Now, he’s
leaving, and I’m going to get that kiss! I’m serious, she told herself. The
fact that he’s not the one, does nothing to negate the fact that he is cute,
and sweet … and totally self-absorbed in that adorable little-boy way. Plus,
he’s not all that boring … well, uh yes, he is.
Brian was a tall, blonde, with a quarterback-meets-bodybuilder grace and size
– a surfer dude. He was not really her type, and she knew that. This guy was
nice to look at, but like many other pretty-boys, he hadn’t much upstairs.
Sara wished the dream could have been just a bit more substantial. But, he
was going to kiss her – this gorgeous, big guy. It was close enough, wasn’t
it?
Brian talked on about his favorite movie. The guy seemed fixated on this
subject. It bored her, but she didn’t let it get to her. He would eventually
run down and let her talk. He always did. The last ten minutes of every date
were hers — and he really listened. She liked that.
Still paying partial attention, and asking pertinent questions when required,
Sara let herself anticipate the kiss. It promised to be spectacular, she told
herself. But something was missing. Hence, the pep talk.
No, Sara, this is going to happen. Just
think – no more plain Jane existence. You’re going to have an experience to
remember!
Soon, the date ended. As he said goodbye, the spectacular Brian leaned in,
brushed her cheek with his lips, and told her he had enjoyed their time
together. He promised to stay in touch via Facebook,
and then, he was gone.
Talk about deflated! Though Brian hadn't meant to make her feel this
way, Sara was embarrassed about his lack of interest. Yet, she realized that
he was right. While she had pretended to be interested, he, on the other
hand, had not faked a thing. Brian had been totally honest all the time – he
had been friendly, kind, and brotherly.
Usually, that kindness was a nice quality in a guy. Most of the time, she
knew, friendliness was another bonus. Still, Sara couldn’t ignore the fact
that he’d also been brotherly. Too bad he couldn't have added to those
charms a nice, smooth kiss.
< ; ; >
< . , . > < ; ;>
Sara had left work the previous Spring for a very long-delayed vacation. Now
that she was back, her return was met with little fanfare, but a surprising
amount of warmth. The supervisory staff was eager to have her back, they said
cheerfully, since she made their workload easier, but the owner of the firm
was especially kind, stating that her presence had been missed. This was
unexpected, but very welcome attention. She felt very good that morning, and
the lunch hour promised to be even better – since she’d get to see Victor
again.
Victor was her friend since kindergarten. His silly humor and wiry body had
made him a natural clown, as a child, but now as an adult, he’d filled out
well enough and most of the staff admired him for his quiet, gentle demeanor.
Sara, however, knew him even better. Vic was still a clown, a poet, a best
friend, of course, but more than that, he was a true hero.
His younger brother was in the army, and because of a birth defect that
didn’t interrupt his regular activities, Vic couldn’t go. He didn’t lament
his fate, however. Instead, he organized a letter campaign among the firm's
workers, and cards, notes, and hand-drawn children’s art found its way to his
brother’s platoon with astonishing regularity.
Many of the cards were purchased at his expense, and he hounded people to
sign them. Later, he’d walk them over to the postage meter and would pay the
shipping costs out of his own pocket, as well. Indeed, Vic had a heart, and
Sara had a clearer and closer glimpse of it than most would ever see.
Today, Vic had planned her lunch hour and the entire office went to Danny’s
with them. How Vic managed to have everyone’s food ready so quickly, Sara
could only imagine. But that was Vic’s thing. He was the doer.
Sara, on the other hand, was the talker. Together, they made an
interesting pair — if I say so myself. Sara loved him — really loved
him. Pity he doesn’t give me a single romantic glance, she had thought to herself on more than
one occasion, because then he’d be perfect. Sara had no
indication that he felt anything beyond friendship for her, so she dismissed
the thought each time as quickly as it came.
Danny’s was Sara’s favorite restaurant. She was smitten with the tasty menu
and family-style layout. It had been the perfect place for her as a loud,
whiny child. And it was still ideal for her now. Her tastes hadn’t changed
much during her life – that was certain. In fact, when it came to food,
recreation, and music, she was the same person she’d always been.
Unfortunately, Vic often pointed out, her sense of fashion hadn’t changed
with the times, either.
Sara suddenly wondered if that was why Vic had never seemed interested in her
as more than a friend. Was she boring? Did she, like Brian had
done to her, leave him feeling flat? She suddenly wanted to explore that
thought. But rather than question him about it, she decided to test the
theory to get her answer.
< ; ; >
< . , . > < ; ;>
That evening, Sara went to the mall. “What can I do to make myself more
up-to-date and hip?” she asked at her favorite clothing store. Her
unfortunate salesclerk, a young lady with a gold tongue ring, looked at her
and thought long and hard. After a three-minute period of silence where she
felt as if she were being examined under a microscope and found lacking, she
wondered if she should get offended. Thankfully, she did not react, and the
woman standing before her proved to be a genius at updating her look while
losing none of the spirit of who Sara was.
“Usually, I quit after the first week with a new look, because I just got
tired of not looking like me,” she told her as she tried on the tenth
fabulous outfit the girl had selected for her. “This, I can do, however,” she
said to her young benefactress. While chewing gum — which Sara considered
hazardous, what with a tongue ring — the sales clerk piled her purchases on
the register counter and answered her. “Yeah, I just did my sister’s look a
month ago. She had sort of a retro no-style thing going on — a lot like
yours. Now, she’s pretty phat.”
Sara hoped she wouldn’t gain weight — then laughed at herself. The sales
clerk wasn’t talking about weight. Still chuckling, she realized that her
body had never faced the danger of developing a single voluptuous curve.
There was nothing to fear in that department.
Looking in the mirror that night, Sara wondered what had happened. She went
in looking for a new outfit, and came out with a hip, but easy hairdo, nice
clothes, and plucked eyebrows — plus a simple trick for keeping up with them
herself. She was truly on her way to a whole new style of living. She only
hoped …
Actually, she didn’t know what to hope. Brian had made her feel unattractive,
though he had seemed to like her at first. Yet, even that wasn’t the issue.
The truth was that Sara had wanted to be kissed. It didn’t even sound stupid
to her — that’s how badly she still wanted it. She didn’t care if it was childish
and silly. She really, really, wanted a kiss.
So, maybe getting Vic to like her was part 2 of her plan. She wouldn’t think
it through yet. She would worry about the rest after she got that kiss!
< ; ; >
< . , . > < ; ;>
Sara had always been all about business. She had known this would be
necessary if she was going to establish herself in a man’s world.
High-powered firms, after all, were still a challenging place for women to
break into. And it had worked – she was one of the top salesmen now because
she had shown her dedication.
As Sara saw it, she had much to be proud of, and she was glad of it.
Unfortunately, she also had no boyfriend with which to share her
accomplishments. Still, she had always needed someone to take her to company
dinners, movies, or the occasional odd event. That’s where Vic had come in.
Since they were kids, neither Vic nor Sara had ever
gone stag. They had simply attended every event as each other’s date.
Moreover, it had always been this way. Neither had wanted to deal with the
drama inherent in dating, and they were both dedicated and busy with their
careers.
Sara had repeated this mantra for so long that it had become a way of life.
Vic was off limits. But not anymore. Her makeover had been about changing
that. And while Brian had done nothing beyond filling the place of Vic – she
wasn’t willing to concede defeat.
Truly, Vic was the most fun friend that Sara had ever had. She didn’t know
anyone else who could fit into any moment of her life and truly feel as if he
belonged there. Christmas parties with her parents were always a Vic event.
Birthdays were seldom Vic-less. And even pajama parties had once included
Vic—when Sara was eight and begged her mom to let him come, just once. It was
her first and only pajama party, because after spending the entire night
without Vic, Sara had declared that she hadn’t felt as if he was even at the
party. Since realizing that parties were not much fun without Vic, she had
made all future celebrations daytime events.
Everybody had expected them to fall in love in high school. Nothing happened,
though, and life went on as usual. He didn’t even try to kiss her. That had
sealed it, as far as she was concerned. She did not need a romantic
relationship with her closest friend. Friendship was enough, she had
told herself. And she still believed it – most of the time.
So why the sudden new look? Sara
didn’t want to examine it too closely. She knew what Vic would say — It'll
all work out in due season. She didn't care. Right now, she just wanted
to do something and make something happen, but first, she had her
planning session with the other Girls’ Ministries leaders in her church.
< ; ; >
< . , . > < ; ;>
There were twelve brown wicker baskets lined up across the front of the
church. Vic could see that they had been arranged in a straight line, that
they were empty, and he also knew that the eight ladies who had positioned
themselves at odd intervals all over the room were planning to fill those baskets.
He had no idea what they were doing, because Easter was still most of the
year away. He waited quietly, however, sure that the answer would come.
Laughing at his own foolishness, he quickly exited the balcony when he saw
what was going into the baskets. Imagine him, spying on the women – just
because they had been secretive. Now he knew why. He had known that
unexpected, and often unpleasant surprises, came to people who try to learn
what they had no business knowing, but this once, what he had seen had left
him chuckling to himself as he returned to the car where he could appear to
have been patiently awaiting his best friend’s exit from the building.
As he sat in the parking lot, his engine idling to further the appearance
that he was doing exactly what he was supposed to do, he couldn’t wait to
tell her about his little misadventure. Though after the phone message he had
left her, she probably suspected it already. She was a scout leader for the
pre-adolescent girls, and it was likely that the “Your
Changing Body” pamphlets and feminine care products he had seen being placed
in those brown baskets had been her idea.
He blushed, just thinking about how he had imagined some great secret
was hidden behind those preparations—something that he might want to do for
his boys, as well. “Maybe some class about human development would work, but
we’ll definitely skip the feminine hygiene baskets…”
Still chuckling, he turned to catch a glimpse of his long awaited friend
coming through the doors of the classroom building. When he spotted her, he
stopped laughing and began gawking. There, walking toward him was his old
friend and neighbor, the girl he had grown up with as a playmate. Now, however,
she could easily pass as a Playmate of another sort. What had happened
to her? She looked gorgeous.
Still watching her from the safety of the vehicle’s tinted windows, Vic was
relieved that she couldn’t see his reaction. He had always known she was
pretty, and that had been a nice perk when they went out to company picnics
and other social events. He always had a good-looking date. Yet today, her
hair and clothing still very understated, with just the slightest change in
style, she was a knock-out. He half expected to sense a change in her
demeanor, as well.
She got into the car acting like her old self, however. Still chatty and
friendly, she kissed his cheek and asked him about his day. When he remained
silent, simply shrugging as was his usual way with her, she began telling him
about the odds and ends of her experiences at work. Then, she said to him,
“On your mysterious voice message, you mentioned that you had a bit of an
adventure,” and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what he had done
that he had been so excited to share with her. Smiling, he just said,
“Later.”
For a reason he couldn’t quite figure out, he drove straight to a great
Italian restaurant that she had been nagging him to try with her, but he had
previously called too expensive. Stopping the car and handing the keys to the
valet at the door, he said, “My treat, okay?” She smiled in surprise and
joined him, taking the arm he offered her as they entered the main lobby.
Vic was wearing a suit, as he always did for the Monday board meetings at his
office, but he somehow looked even nicer in these surroundings. Everything
seemed beautiful here, and she could imagine that her new cream and brown
dress looked in this setting, as well. She was glad she had worn it. She
might not have fit in here with her dowdy old clothes, but now, with a
slightly more modern twist, her new comfortable wardrobe made her fit in
everywhere. She wondered if Vic had noticed, but so far, though he’d been
acting a bit odd, he hadn’t mentioned it.
Vic outdid himself during the meal, milking the story of the feminine hygiene
baskets for all it was worth, adding a new twist to every minute, making it sound more like a scene from a blockbuster film than just
another blunder during an ordinary day. The day was no longer ordinary, he
realized. In fact, something big was on the horizon. He could feel it.
Vic had been waiting for her. He suddenly knew it. His entire life had led up
to this very moment, and as he took her hand and led her to the bench under the
old tree she loved to visit, he knew that he would kiss her. He only hoped
that she would take it as seriously as he did.
Vic knew all about her quest for a kiss, though she hadn’t gone into minute
detail about it. He simply understood her, and he knew that she was going to
have the experience, whether he provided it or not. He had been determined to
ignore her, and to let her make her foolish mistakes.
And right now, he realized that the reason he had so opposed her foolish
plan, as he had called it, was because he had not wanted her kissing
anyone but him. He was the foolish one. What was he thinking? All evening
long, he had been charming and debonair, trying to make her see that he was
the one she should really wanted, but now, he was trying to figure out a way
to reach for her and have her melt into his arms.
But that wasn't right. He was her friend, and this whole thing reeked of
dishonesty. He knew he couldn't go through with it. So on the most romantic
night he had ever experienced, Vic decided to hold off on the kiss and simply
hold her hand.
< ; ; >
< . , . > < ; ;>
She was ready, and she knew him well. Vic wasn’t going to kiss her because he
wanted to be gentlemanly about it all. He would probably first ask for her
hand in marriage before he tried to get more than a peck on the cheek. But
that was not what she wanted. And Vic was not going to have a choice. Taking
out her lip gloss, the one that both smelled and tasted like pineapple, but
was actually not overly glossy or colorful, she began applying it to her
lips. Two can play this game.
Vic almost cried. He turned his head and looked elsewhere. She was
deliberately provoking him! But to her it was a game, and he simply knew that
he couldn’t lose this one. He wanted her to think about him the way he had
begun thinking about her. Everything had to be different. He would wait, and
it would happen.
She rubbed some lotion on her face, then her hands. So, she wasn’t wearing
make-up…just as always. Yet she looked so fresh. “Moisturizer makes a big
difference, doesn’t it?” She spoke, and her voice did things to his nerves.
He was starting to get spooked again, when she simply put it all back in her
purse, took his hand, and walked him back to the car. “Well, Vic, let’s head
back home. I’m going to have to finish some things up for work, and it’s
getting late.”
By the time they reached her apartment, both she and Vic knew he was beaten.
It was over. He exited the car when she did, and as she began crossing the
sidewalk toward her door, he caught hold of her arm and tugged her backwards.
“You are aggravating, you know that?” She didn’t feel like laughing at her
victory. In fact, she held her breath, unable to move or even think.
Vic turned her and reeled her in, just as expertly as a fisherman with one on
his line. Sighing in resignation, he pulled her shoulders close enough that
he could easily bring his face down on hers. “I love you, you know?” he said.
Then, he kissed her.
This was not the way she had planned it. It was so much better! She felt like
flying, running, and then falling to the ground, weeping for the fullness of
it all. It wasn’t joy, happiness, or anything so basic. It was bigger, and
yes, fuller, than anything else. It was going to be a wonderful life!
Vic got home late, because he took some extra time just to drive for miles,
not sure where he was going or what he was doing. When he finally arrived
back at his parents’ house, he took the stairs up to their room and knocked
on their bedroom door. Ma was there, alert as always for his return. “What
happened to you?” she asked, as she slipped out the door past him, then down
the stairs into the kitchen. It just seemed as if anything that needed fixing
could be resolved with food.
“Ma, esto no
se cura con comida. Vengase al sofá y hable conmigo. Eso es lo que mas
necesito ahora.”
Her rebuke was swift. “No me mandes, hijo. You got those lips from me, and I can fatten ‘em up if you smart mouth me again.” He hung his head in
mock surrender. “Okay, okay, old lady. I give up.” Her look was stern, and
possibly fatal to most people, but he took it all in stride. “Serious, Ma, I
need to talk.” She nodded and folded her hands on her lap, his cue that the
floor was now his.
He began by laughing at himself, heartily. “You were right, Ma. I should have
married her years ago. I don’t know why I don’t just write down all of your
comments and make a Mother Bible to live by. You’re that accurate—all the
time.” She smiled, pleased, and then corrected his blasphemy-of-sorts. “No
Bible but God’s in this house. So hurry up and marry her so you can get out,
already.”
There was one thing that you could say about Ma. She wasn’t one for pulling
punches. This hearty little Hispanic lady from Brooklyn talked like a cross
between a Jewish grandma and an Italian mobster. Her English-of-sorts was
flawless, but her Spanish was equally good. She was a mass of contradictions,
but one thing was constant-her was her instincts
with her kids. And she had been right all the years he was growing up.
Vic gave her the greatest gift he could offer—the chance to say “I told you
so.” Every mother longed for such an gift, and he
offered it willingly. “You were right, Ma.” And contrary to expectation, she
didn’t say “I told you so.” Instead, she said, “Of course I was right, ya meshuggena.” Part Jewish -
part Godfather - part Puerto Rican mother — that was his mom. “So I’ll marry
her. If I can get her to say yes, of course. Now let me get some sleep.”
But it was hopeless. No one rested among the adults in either household. Not
that night, and not for a while to come. Vic’s best friend was wide awake in
nervous wonder - stressing about tomorrow. Will Vic change? Will he
repent? Did that sigh mean he was simply giving me
what I wanted? And most importantly - Will he repeat that kiss?
Deep down, she knew that Vic wouldn’t have kissed her if he didn’t want
more—and permanency. They had been friends too long for him to give in just
for a quick thrill. Besides, Vic wasn’t that kind of guy. He wasn't going to
kiss her unless he cared. In fact, that had been his first kiss, too. His
only flaw was that he couldn’t stand being wrong,
and boy was he going to fight this one — if he had fallen in love with her as
she suspected. Because one thing was certain - his mom was going to gloat
about it.
The morning came and everyone in both houses was up with the dawn. It was
just one of those days when no one could stay in bed. Having bathed, made
coffee for the household, and walked around the house endlessly, Vic finally
heard the grandfather clock in the living room strike 6 am. She didn’t have
to be at work today until 11, and she wouldn’t appreciate being awakened too
early, but he just couldn’t wait another minute. Grabbing his keys and
jacket, Vic headed out to his car, glad that this morning wasn’t as cold as
many others in Autumn. He didn’t have to scrape his windshield. Whistling to
himself, he drove to Sara’s apartment, glad that he could finally be with her
again.
When he arrived, she was in flannel pajamas, and somehow, he felt as if time
had sped up and he was welcoming the morning with her as his wife. She handed
him a coffee mug after seating him at the scratched dinette table. Then, she
settled in the seat next to him, lifting her fuzzy slippers onto his lap as
she had so many times over the years.
“I want to spend some time with you today, but I don't think it's a good idea
for us to be alone. Can you come over to my house?” he asked. She smiled.
Of course, his mother will be dying to see for herself. I've got to let
her enjoy this one. She rose and padded to her room, leaving a trail of
fairy dust, it seemed, behind her.
While he waited, he soaked up the unmistakable feeling of being in her home.
It seemed as if her presence—and the Lord’s presence—filled this place with a
special peace. He wanted to spend his whole life sharing living space like
this with her, and if he got his way, he would.
Her apartment was tiny — one miniscule bedroom, a kitchen barely big enough
for one person even as small as she was, and a dining room the size of the
kitchen; the living room was just a couple of feet larger. Yet, the place had
big windows with a good view of a city street where children often played,
and where old mothers and grandmothers passed the time gossiping on the front
building stoops. Sara loved that type of charm, so she had passed up nicer
apartments to have that view.
She was happy here, she had often told him. He had wondered about the
loneliness, though, and often thought that without his parents to keep things
busy, he would dread the long evenings of solitude. The single life was
definitely not for him. But for her, it had been a blessed rest after living
with abusive parents. She said that the experience of being alone had taught
her to parent herself, and even more, to allow God to parent her.
Vic got a glimpse of her leaving the shower, her wet hair slightly wavy, and
darker than the shade it normally appeared. She looked amazing! He wished he
had the authority to follow her into the room and watch her brush her hair;
that was what today was about — exploring the possibility of a real future
for them.
For him, the kiss had sealed the deal, but he figured she needed more
convincing. Yet, it had also served to complicate things. Now, he wondered if
she would trust him or just think that he was basing talk of the future on
the physical response he had when they touched. He almost wished he had left
her lips alone. But only almost — somehow, he couldn’t make himself think too
badly of that kiss. The kiss had been about expressing his love and his
commitment to her in a way he hoped she had understood.
< ; ; >
< . , . > < ; ;>
Sara searched through the closet for something nice. Today, she wanted to
impress him, and yet she knew that if she was going to be sure about their
new relationship, she would have to be comfortable about what had won him in
the first place—was it her, or her new look? Taking her old black glasses
from their case, she decided to skip her regular contacts. From the closet,
she chose a pair of pants that had always made her butt look big. Then,
grabbing a plain yellow polo shirt, she completed the no-figure look. She
definitely wouldn’t be winning him with her beauty today. She needed to know
that it was real—or to shed all the illusions now—before she got hurt.
Vic saw her come from the room looking more like her old self—in fact, worse
than that. She had a--rubber band--in her hair, and her skin had not
been moisturized. Her clothes were baggy and shapeless, and she looked just
fine to him. “You can try all you want to cover up the lady from last night,
but my kiss is still marked on those lips.” Then, while she raised her
fingers to touch them, he bent over and whispered, “Let’s see if we can
remove that mark.”
If anyone had told her last week that another human being would lick
her lips, she might have gagged. As it was, she didn’t feel like complaining
a bit. Surprisingly, she liked it. Laughing at him, and at her own reaction to what he had done, she grabbed him
across the back and hugged him close. She continued laughing, releasing the
pent-up tension from a sleepless night, numerous questions, and so much
worry.
“Why so downcast, o my soul?” She quoted the scripture from Psalm 43:5 aloud,
letting Vic hear her. She didn’t mind anymore. She now remembered that God
was in control of this, and however it looked now, he knew the end from the
beginning. Determined to let Him deal with the future, she asked Vic if he
wanted a fudge popsicle. With a grin, he accepted, and she brought one for
each of them. They ate in their former position and chatted for a while, and
then, sensing a slow buildup of tension between them again, they decided to
play it safe and head for his parents’ house.
“You know,” he said while they drove, “I feel like your house is more my home
than my own. I have my own space, and freedom at home, but no one is really
waiting for me there — unless you mean waiting for me to grow up and get a
life.” She laughed at his remark, remembering how it felt to finally leave
the house where she grew up and to finally find her own way. “It’s nice to
grow up. You’ll like it.” Nodding, he said, “Would you help me? Marry me?”
She had known it was coming. That was Vic's way. He wanted security about the
future, and he always had to know where things were headed. Right now, she
believed they were headed for marriage, simply because he had kissed her once
— and licked her lips once. But she wisely chose to say, “I can’t base our
future on a feeling, Vic.”
He had expected that answer. It didn’t bother him. On the contrary, he knew
that the easiest way to deal with her was to take it all in stride, and to
give her constant reminders of what he was hoping for. She would need to
accustom herself to the thought. That was how he got her to ride the world’s
scariest roller-coasters, take shooting lessons, and it was how he would get
her to marry him. “It’s okay,” he said, “I can wait for your answer.”
She was nervous. She needed to know if he would kiss her again. She glanced
at him as he was driving. “In answer to your question — yes, and often.” She
stared at him. He glanced back at her, making her blush, but then he returned
his his eyes to the road. She shook her head, as if
trying to convince herself that he hadn't read her mind, but he knew her too
well.
“You wanted to know if I would kiss you again. Am I right?" She was
flabbergasted. He was just too much. So she hit him.
We're at the end of the story, one which I enjoyed as much as
any short story I've written. The scene where Vic sat laughing about his
adventures in the church balcony - and then forgot it all promptly when he
saw Sara - well, it keeps me laughing even today, long after I wrote it. I
want to see what happens next, but I want to give them time to enjoy their relationship
before I mix it all up again. ~grin~
God is truly marvelous, and I love this creativity he gave us. Bless the
Lord, o my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name! Psalm 103:1
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