So you were like twenty years younger than me. And I didn’t know what to do after we kissed. The kiss was part of a game we played. But what happens after the game?
The rough surface of the concrete barrier scratches my elbows as I lean my weight forward. You’re on my left doing the same. Kenny and that other girl are on the other side of you. Fire crackers in the sky. Mismatched music. Loud bang, louder bang. Crowds everywhere. I see you linger a little bit on my periphery. Firecrackers in the sky. I saw you last time when I was helping Kenny move, and we barely spoke. This time, this moment… I turn slightly to the left as the next explosion in the sky turns your face green, and I say “how you feeling?” And you say “good!”.
…actually, wait! Let’s go back a little and course correct: in fact, by this time, the fire works are over, and people are starting to walk back home on the beach and around us too. We are one floor above the beach.
Then a flash of genius: I point to the empty beer can in your left hand and say, “do you think you could hit someone in the head with that?” And I point to the people walking below us. 20 bucks I say. $30, say you. We agree on $25. The genius in me then says “but wait, what do I get if you miss?”, the devil in you says “a kiss on the cheek.” And you obviously miss, because the people are far, and the beer can is empty. So I get that left-cheek kiss.
Then you try again and I get a right-cheek kiss. Obviously, by this time we’ve figured out the “game of the scene” as they say in improv comedy. So we try this a few more times. Now I’m getting kisses on the lips! And now we’ve run out of cans to throw, but no matter, cause the genius in me suggests a new challenge to get someone on the beach throw up a can to us. You’re calling people left and right, and asking them to help you win $25. Now some total strangers are part of our game, and on your team, too, and it’s wonderful! Of course, those cans are empty -hence hard to reach us- too, and now I’m racking up even more kisses! Then, your friend comes over to help us negotiate how LONG we’re gonna be kissing. Now we’re just being dirty.
When it’s all over, I want to hug you, but that’s not part of the game. I can see, you need a hug too, and so your friend comes over and wraps her arms around you. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s allowed anymore.
Then, on the way home, we have a few minutes between Kenny’s house and where I’m separating from you and your friend. I need to know what to do. But the genius in me is quiet. It’s probably not up to him anymore. Another part of me… that part isn’t online yet, it seems. Then there’s an awkward goodbye and a half-ask for contact info and a half-response, that gets nowhere. See you, when I see you.
“I really enjoyed kissing you.” That’s all that needed to be said. The genius in me did not, could not, see that. But I’m saying it here now.
And, let’s say, for the sake of this piece of paper -the one that I drew here to tell me what I should be writing about at this writing event,- that “you tasted like lemon tea”. I’d say you tasted better, though. Like, I’d say, that you tasted like the concentrated fruit of a fleeting moment of human connection.