The Last Kiss

It is said that when you experience a traumatic event or hardship your brain blocks off those memories to protect yourself from the unpleasant feeling, causing your body to writhe in a torturous mental pain.  Unfortunately, my brain accepts the suffering as the evocation of the past floods through my mind.  Gut-wrenching memories colliding with fond recollection of our entanglement cursing me to remind myself of how I left. Reminiscence washes over me in waves, although when the guilt lingers like a virus corrupting the immune system I shift my attention to our best memory, our first kiss.  

The sky is painted a midnight black, the stars spaciously laying across the dark canvas above.  My chapped hand dry from the weather reaches towards the keys on my kitchen counter, the harsh collision of keys against the marble splitting my ears.  My feet sink into the glistening white sneakers I purchased last week, walking out the front door turning back swiftly to lock it then stride towards my car. My grainy cracked hands once softer than silk grip gently around the raven steering wheel of my small Toyota Camry.  The drive feels slower than I imagined, my thumbs dancing rhythmically along the wheel as my leg bounces to the background music of the radio in what feels like slow motion.  Anticipation coursing through my veins, time slowing down without him. Once I park my car in his driveway, I step out ducking my head down to not hit the roof.  As my gaze glances up the world starts to spin as my breath is caught in the back of my throat.  My eyes peer forwards as his tall figure struts towards me, dark brunette hair sweeping across his eyes from the gentle puffs of wind. He passes me after a quick greeting, his form now resting in the seat I currently kept warm, his lotioned hands gripping the wheel in replacement of my own. The evening event resided on a small field; lines of old automobile tracks ingrained on the grass; numbers painted onto mid-sized metal poles that were buried into the tough dirt communicating which spot to sit your car.  Ahead rested a large rundown brick building, a white screen bolted to the solid burgundy brick wall facing the cars.  Old movie night in the field of our hometown, it might sound cliche, however there is always something special about an old drive-in movie theatre. As we found our section, he gradually decreased the speed to a stop as he turned into a spot.  Bending my arm to reach the backpack full of snacks we obtained from the convenience store, praying that nobody is aware of our teenage behaviors.  

 The movie happens to be a rom com, a pretty common movie as well.  It starts with a young woman who happens to be diagnosed with a life altering disease, this disease keeps her surviving in and out of hospitals.  Depending on a routine of popping pills to be able to get through the day is her only aid.  Then just like every other teenage romance story, she runs into a boy who happens to have the same diagnoses as her.  The movie is quite romantic with hints of realism and despondency causing anyone to experience an emotional reaction, such as the one I face.  My eyes follow the depiction closely as my heart starts to ache for this young couple on screen, the bubbling of tears creates my head to ache just like my heart.  Salty damp tears cascade past my soft, round cheeks slowly as I watch the heartbreaking scene of a breakup, the feeling of my body about to hiccup runs through me until my skin heats with a touch that is not foreign.  I turn to notice his hand on my dewy cheek pulling my face forward for his eyes to linger across my features.  The second-hand extraordinary heartbreak my whole-body experiences vanishes within a quick blink as the feeling of his plush lips collide with grace onto my quivering ones.  His larger hands rest on the side of my face as his thumb gently swipes up and down in a comforting manner.  My shaken-up form loosens in his touch like putty, drifting into the back of the leather seat softly.  Once the kiss ends my brain is thoughtless and empty, only the thought occurring of how this is our first kiss with one another. It’s disheartening how fast moments fly by, just like how fast that kiss happened and now it's all in my mind, a distant memory. 

I prefer to manipulate myself into daydreaming of our pleasant times together rather than reexperience the guilt over again, the crying fits that occurred within those months.  I remember those moments so vividly, as if they took place just yesterday. My velvety hands smooth over the thin material of his linen shirt preparing the clean laundry to be folded then stored into the closet of our shared bedroom.  Today happens to be our day off from work, it is always lovely to spend time together now, with commitment to each other and work there is a need for balance.  His gentle touch finds my waist as I delicately lift the top from the freshly made bed, curving the sleeves back and folding the entire shirt in half only for me to drop the shirt as his fingers rapidly tickle against my hips. The sensation runs through my shoulders, down my arms and throughout my body with an everlasting chill.  My shoulders shake with my soft giggling, my laugh mixing with his deep chuckles of amusement as I try to turn around in his arms to get back at him, only to fail completely as our bodies collide onto the bed wrinkling the smooth edges into a mess.   

As we lay there laughing his sonorous voice breaks through the fit of laughter reaching my ears sending a chill down my spine and a flutter in my chest.  “I cannot wait to make you my wife” He mumbles softly.  My body freezes over in fight or flight unsure what to do in a situation such as this.  Marriage has always been a topic we never covered, so I assumed he didn't care that much and neither did I.  He takes notice of my shift in demeanor, raising his head to gaze into my disoriented eyes, the wheels turning inside of my head as his voice meets my ears again. “What is it? You look as though you have seen a ghost.  Does the thought of marrying me scare you that much? If so, we’ve got an issue” His cheeks lift with his small smile as he chuckles heartedly.  Yet I still could not make use of the words floating inside my mind.  “I don’t know if I want to marry” I admit in a hush tone.  His eyes stare blank with bewilderment, now it is his turn to freeze in place with no initial thoughts. “You don’t want to marry me? Or you don’t want to marry anyone?” He inquires with subtle frustration and disappointment laced into his tone.  “Anyone” I murmur with hesitation as I watch for his reaction, only to see pure numbness within his eyes.  The tension rises as he moves back from my overheating body, sweat starting to cry from my pores as I observe him.  He sits on the edge of the bed, his legs spread apart as he leans down resting his heavy arms on his thighs, his breath stable as mine become shallow.  Tears spill from my dark eyes as I only envision the future for us at this moment. My hiccups rattle my small figure as I try to contain the shakes of pure grief from knowing I'll lose the one good person in my life. He must have heard my strained whimpering from behind as he swirls his body around facing me, stoic face immediately shifting to a look of care as he embraces my body in his firm hold.  His touch sends a heaviness over my chest making it feel harder to breathe, my hands shaking with overwhelming fear of the mess I’ve created.  My eyes are sore from the excessive tears that stream down my plump cheeks now warm and damp from the emotions flooding through my brain.   

I can still recall the overwhelming anxiety I faced while sitting on the messy bed trying to place all my thoughts in separate sections until further examination.  I just wish he had ended it there instead of trying to keep us strong even though the news broke him down.  Unfortunately, relationships are destined for similar values, I guess our relationship isn't destined to be.  Maybe I should have ended it sooner, I knew that he wasn't strong enough.  His smile fades as the television shows images of a young family, two small children with their parents, wedding bands tied to their fingers in a symbol of commitment and loyalty.  I notice his disappointment every time marriage gets brought up in conversation or even just on the television.  At night I crawl out of our bed, moving his arm to rest over the stuffed bear he bought me for valentines day a year ago.  I move strategically so as to not step on the floor where it's creaky, finding comfort on the floor in the living room where I don't have to be beside the man who I love because my body starts to shake in hyperventilation, eyes filling with hot tears.  I know avoiding him doesn't provide help to the situation, although being near him reminds me of what I have caused for him, the agony of not getting his dream.  Trapped within my thoughts I don't realize the footsteps approaching until I feel a large hand come to sit on my knee.  My teary eyes meet with his and he brings me closer to his chest to comfort me.  “I'm sorry” The only two words that I can register and say out loud.  His voice soothes my emotions, “It’s okay” He mumbles softly drifting a hand across my unkempt hair.  “It’s not okay, I’m preventing you from having your dream” I object to his ability to act as though he isn't breaking inside.  “It is okay because you are my dream” His words puncture my heart and my sobs break free, my body shaking with desperation for a sense of reality, how can he sacrifice his dreams for me?  

 Every moment we had spent with each other after the quarrel my thoughts controlled me.  I was stealing his future and I had stolen his past taking up time where he could have been finding a wife.  The twisted moments where I could sense his discontentment with the situation had my mind running. I knew that we wouldn't make it further that day and now here we are, separated because of the choices I had made and the choices I didn't make out of fear as well as respect for my own traditions.  My mind shifts to the memories of our collapsed interconnection, pieces of our once prospering romance terminated by my decision to not follow through with a union I don’t believe in. 

Shoulders hunching over in defeat, his head falls into his hands, hair covering the perplexing, sorrowful look that overtakes his eyes.  My breaths unsteadily shake as I watch his initial reaction to the words that spill out of my unintentionally poisonous mouth.  “I think we should breakup” Those five words hit his love-sick heart harder than a train as his frame sinks onto the sofa that we purchased together when we first moved in. My hands are shaky and my eyes observe him sharply waiting for him to speak.  Even if he says he hates me I selfishly need to hear the sound of his thunderous tone to soothe myself from the overwhelming emotions. The only word he is able to force out cuts the thick tension between us. “Why?” He mutters under his breath, rough and barely audible. I shift my feet over towards his sulking form, bending my knees to kneel in front of his form almost pleadingly. “After everything we have been through, the moments your fragile heart barreled into mine, learning pieces of myself I hadn't even discovered on my own.  The way our souls intertwined together, showing me a love that's undeniably pure and raw just to throw it all away because of what? You're scared of committing to someone that actually loves you?” He seethes, his once calm demeanor twisting to palpable anger. Shock floods into my veins rushing to my lungs, squeezing the air from them harshly as I listen to his quick rant of how I am ruining the only authentic relationship we both have experienced. 

The guilt consumes my waking breaths causing my clumsy legs to shake, my teeth grind into one another as I consider his words.  Although the intense emotions overrule my brain I don't let them destroy the purpose of my intent for the future.  Marriage has never been something that my overanalyzing brain thought of, even as a little girl I never dreamt of the big white wedding or finding a guy that would hold my hand in sickness and in health.  I always dreamt of becoming a successful woman who didn't depend on anyone. Maybe it was the way I was raised, my parents teaching me to rely on myself and that marriage is only a sheet of paper that lets the government know that they own you. “I want to be successful on my own. I-I never considered marriage as a path I would take, I don't even know if I want children. All I know now is that I will not be the reason you chose to let go of your dreams. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. If I had known you wanted this…” The surface of my breaking point cracking like thin ice as the same hot tears stream down my cheeks. My self control rips at the seams as I break in front of my former lover. “I’m sorry that I stole your chance at completing your dreams” I grieve as I attempt to apologize to him. His eyes soften at the site of tears that run down my plush cheeks he once touched with velvet hands. “Can I steal one thing from you?” His monotone voice pleads with a mumble. I sluggishly lift my head higher to look at him, my pupils dilate wide with curiosity about what he asks me for.  “Okay” I stammer, my voice wavering from the emotional sting of the situation. I glance around unsure of the thoughts that are most likely floating around in his head.  In slow motion, his body gradually leans closer to my figure that sits in front of him like a statue on the cold hardwood floor.  With swift calculated movements his rugged hand captures my tender cheek within his grip pulling my face closer to his.  Shallow breaths exhale onto my damp cheeks producing a sweet chill against my face. My breath anchored within my lungs just like the first kiss at the drive-in movie theatre.  At an agonizingly slow speed his tender lips crash against mine, the taste of passion evident as our bodies sink into each other. His arms are the only place I need to be, the only place I cannot be anymore.  At least I got one that most people crave. The last kiss.