The Kiss

A tear streamed down Eva's face as she sat silently, taking in a painting illuminated softly by the ambient light of the empty room. She looked at every detail of the intertwined couple's bodies, softly merging delicately and intimately as if this embrace was their only sanctuary from the sad reality of their world . Lost in reverie, she traced the contours of their embrace with her eyes, feeling the echoes of her own tender moments intertwined with theirs. In her daydream, she didn't hear the footsteps that walked into the room or any words uttered toward her. She was finally yanked out of her dreams when she felt a hand on her shoulder shaking her softly and deliberately as her body jolted uncontrollably. 

"Mom, are you okay?" 

"Yeah, honey, I am fine." She lied without removing her eyes from the painting. 

Without replying, her daughter sat beside her on the wooden bench facing the painting. She knew her mother was lying, which was very unlike her, so she looked at the painting to decipher if the answer was somewhere in there. She gave up after a couple of minutes. 

"Mom, what is going on? You disappeared the moment we walked into the museum, and when I finally found you, you were sitting alone in front of a Lautrec painting, crying. To top it off, you lied and told me you are okay."

Eva felt the wetness on her face and quickly wiped the tears away. She sighed deeply and turned to face her daughter with a feeble smile. 

"You are right. I am sorry. I was uncomfortable sharing the truth, and since I always tell you that things get worse if you don't, I will follow my own rule." 

"Mom, it's okay if you are uncomfortable sharing right now. I just wanted to know if you were okay because I was worried." 

"I am alright, honey. I was thinking of someone." 

"Oh," she paused. Then she realized it was probably an old love, so she let out another "oh" without realizing it. Eva smiled, with a tinge of melancholy still lingering in the corner of her eyes. She stood up and motioned her daughter to go, but she did not move.

"Wow, I am not going anywhere, old lady. You can't just tell me you were thinking of someone and leave it at that." 

"Oh honey, this is not a good time. Besides, we are here for you."

"Exactly. We are here for me, so I want to know." She smiled, looked at her mom, and drew a heart in the air. 

Eva sighed profoundly and nodded her head. 

"Wow, Mom."

"What?"

"Nothing; I expected more of a fight than that." Luna smiled.

"Normally, but it is time to talk about it. It will help us both." 

"Oh, this is exciting! Okay. . . Okay, what was this person's name? How did you meet? I want to know everything!" Luna could not hide her excitement.

"Alex, and honestly, I don't know where to start, Luna, but this was long ago. I was going through a lot, and when I met Alex, I felt as if I had found an oasis in the middle of a desert. Our first date was right here. We sat in this exact spot, looking at this painting. I remember how Alex's eyes lit with passion when talking about it and how art was like love- a journey of self-discovery. I still remember the words in my ears like it was yesterday. Alex would get up and trace the lines on the painting in the air animatedly and copy how the artist painted it as if they did it together. It was very rare at the time to see two women sharing a kiss, but Lautrec did not care. He was commissioned to do some paintings at a brothel and made sixteen of them, including this one. Alex said Lautrec would sit for hours and hours just observing everyone. He painted with love, empathy, and understanding of the people without judgment. The description of how Lautrec poured his soul into the canvas, expressing his innermost thoughts and feelings, made me feel like I was there, too. In a matter of minutes, I was mesmerized by everything Alex said. 

"Wow, Mom, sounds like you fell hard. You talk with such . . . I don't know. I don't even know how to describe it . . . longing?" 

Eva couldn't hold the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes, and suddenly, a tidal wave of emotions engulfed her. Luna was so shocked by her mother's harrowing reaction that she felt she lost her ability to move. Eva's chin quivered as she tried to regain control, but the moment her daughter held her and took her into her arms, she lost all control and began to sob. 

A few minutes passed before Eva withdrew slowly from her daughter's embrace. 

"Okay, let's get out of here before someone comes in." 

"No, Mom, I think you need to finish this here. Whoever walks in can deal with it." 

Eva let out a nervous smile as she wiped her tears 

"I guess I haven't embarrassed myself enough. You are pushing it, kid." 

Luna smiles at her mom and shrugs her shoulder without saying a word. 

" It was amazing. The way Alex talked somehow made me feel the artist's feelings, desires, and dreams; every word was like a brush stroke on a canvas of pure art. I sat here listening for hours, and I lost it. " 

"Lost it? What do you mean?" 

"I grabbed Alex's face, and we kissed. Our first kiss was right here. We grabbed each other and held on so tightly, and It was such a surreal feeling of pure love and passion—like being in a dream. And those kinds of kisses feel like they alter your entire existence and every cell in your body."

"Wow, Mom, I am getting goosebumps just listening to you. So then, what happened? What went wrong?" 

"Love is as beautiful as it is complicated. I was scared, and I was young. I did not know what to do or who to go to. It was just a hard time for me." 

"When was this? Were you my age?"

"No, honey, I was a lot older. I . . ." Eva stopped herself as she realized her mistake. She hoped for a split second that her daughter would not notice. Unfortunately, it was a little too late. 

" Wait, I thought you met my dad in college and had me when you were. . . " she paused for a second, then continued, "Did. . ." and paused again to try to formulate a question as thoughts began racing in her head. 

" Mom. . . when was this?" She emphasized the word mom. 

Eva looked at her daughter. Luna looked at her just like when she was a toddler trying to say something but was scared of her mother's reaction. This time, it was Eva who did not know what to say. 

" Okay. . . this was when you were about three years old. Your father and I were about to break up, and yeah, that's when I met Alex." 

"So you met Alex before you and Dad broke up?"

"Yes, and trust me, it had nothing to do with Alex. My relationship with your father went as far as it could. " 

" So then what happened? Why did it not work out?"

" I told you I was scared. After a few months, Alex received a job offer as a curator in a museum in Amsterdam. It was an ideal job. Alex wanted us to come, but you were still a toddler, and I was also young. I had just come out of a relationship with your father. I knew I loved Alex, but I was terrified of making another mistake. Things were different then. " Another tear formed in Eva's eyes, and her voice lowered to almost a whisper as she continued. 

"After a few months of begging and arguing, I could not take it anymore. I wished Alex the best of luck and ended the relationship. I was not ready." 

"That's it? Nothing happened after that?"

"I was devastated. Depression hit me hard. Mama moved in with us for a while because I barely left the bed. For months and even years, I hoped that Alex would contact me, but there was nothing." 

"Oh, Mom, I am so sorry. I can't imagine how that must have felt, and for you to bottle all these feelings for all these years must have been even more hurtful. Now it makes sense why you never dated." 

Eva smiled but did not respond and looked at the painting again. A crowd of tourists broke the gloomy silence as they walked into the room behind their guide, who explained post-impressionism. Eva and Luna stood up and walked out slowly. Outside the room, Luna paused, hugged her tightly, and thanked her for sharing her story. 

For the rest of the night, something irked Luna, but she could not figure out what it was. For some reason, she felt something was missing. She turned on her laptop to do some school work but found herself on Google looking up museums in Amsterdam. She browsed through a few of them and stopped at the "Who We Are" section at the fourth museum. She couldn't believe it at first. She opened another tab and googled the name she found. The more she read, the more she couldn't believe it. Finally, after going through Facebook, she saw a picture that made her gasp and slam her laptop shut. It was an old picture of her mother with the biggest smile on her face, laughing at the person holding the camera. 

It all came together: the painting, her mother's story, and what irked her the whole night. She couldn't understand what her mother meant when she said, "Things were different then." 

Her mother's picture was on the profile of one of the directors of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, Alexandra Williams.