The Kiss

IMG_1960.PNG

He is there, sitting on a bench, waiting for a bus – with all kinds of people passing by him, with all kinds of thoughts running through his head. The money is not enough; the sex is never enough. He lights a cigarette to ease his mind of all he can’t accomplish. He is alone on the bench until a woman joins his presence. “I could spend the night with her,” he thinks. However, he is enjoying his smoky dreams; his laziness stops him to try a conversation. She appears interested in her thoughts only. With nothing more to do except waiting for the bus, he smiles at her. She replies with a sympathetic smile. She moves her body close to him. “What’s up with this girl?” he blushes with her approach. He looks at her; she arouses him. He kisses her; a long kiss he doesn’t want it to stop. The mouth is wet as they, only them, wait for the bus. His thoughts cease by the desire of being with that woman. He wants to kiss her all night. But he interrupts the kiss. A shy smile after a bright light illuminates her face; a car comes into their direction. She moves away. They wait, far from each other.

Many things are missing in her life right now. She can’t keep herself still to wait for a bus. She walks past the stop bench twice; there’s a man there, she doesn’t want to talk. “What’s the problem with men that can’t see a woman alone without feeling they have the right to approach them?” She sits by him; with distance, she doesn’t want to talk. The money is not enough; the sex is never satisfying. She observes him, “the dude is hot,” she wouldn’t mind spending a night with him. He arouses her, but a stranger won’t fill the gap in her life. He smiles at her; he wants to make himself present. “Fuck it!” she thinks, moving closer towards his body; she can smell him. She kisses him, a long kiss she doesn’t want it to stop. The mouth is wet as they, only them, wait for the bus. Her dissatisfaction ceases by the action of being with a man after a long time. She wants to kiss him for the rest of the night. But she interrupts the kiss. A happy smile after a bright light illuminates his face; a car comes into their direction. She moves away. They wait, silently.

Advertisements

5

IMG_1959.PNG

I run back home after the school. I can hear the women from outside; my heart is racing fast. I’m greeted by my mom, “go say hi to everyone, and I don’t want you to hang around the table.” She looks beautiful; there’s a unique way boys look at their mother that is just pure. I agree with a smile, and run to the laughing, cheering, and a very smoky game room filled with my mom’s closest friends. I give a kiss to each one of the beautiful ladies. Red lips mark my cheeks. There’s just no space left on my face when I greet my grandma. She calls me son, and she doesn’t wear red lipstick. Grandma is the most beautiful lady in the room; a disease took her melatonin away, so she is very white, hair is short and curly, she dresses in a floral dress, and her admirable elegance. From the movement of her body to the tone of her voice and laugh, it’s all very delicate, very slow but effective. She keeps a handkerchief (small, white, laced) with her all the time; cleaning the edge of her eyes, it looks like she is always crying. I believe it’s just the way she plays the game of being a woman. With one of her movements, she wets the handkerchief with a little bit of saliva, cleaning my face of the red lipstick marks. Then, she gives me a long kiss on the cheek. I check if my mom is around and run under the table. I like to hear those women talking and playing. I like to be around them; I laugh with them, I can spend my life just watching that upside down game. The woman with red marks on the tip of her finger and the tip of her cigarettes is my favorite. She is so loud and competitive. Her feet don’t stop moving from all the anxiousness and the caffeine. She loses the game, uttering a swearing which makes me laugh so hard my grandma notices my presence. I see my mom’s arms reaching my t-shirt collar. She pulls me from the room, and I’m still laughing. She looks at me with a smile on her face, takes me to the kitchen with her, and serves me the delicious food she prepared. I look at her.