The Last Kiss

THE LAST KISS
By
Thaylon Taylor

         The sun had set in golden orange, reds, fading now into purples as the first stars revealed themselves. Today, he thought with a smile, was day number thirty thousand, he would be eighty-two in a few more days. He had always naturally thought of oddities, little things like that, throughout his life. He glanced and smiled toward the lovely silver haired woman sitting, rocking slightly, in the chair on the front porch next to him. She was still as lovely as the day he had first kissed her nearly seventy years before.
         He rose, gathered a shawl from the small living room, and gently covered the legs of his lovely bride and dearest friend in the world. He smiled looking deep into her brown eyes and told her once again that she made him wish for younger days. She playfully slapped his moving hand away from her thigh, telling him to hush and not to start something neither of them had the energy to finish. They both laughed as he told her once again that she still was the only girl that did ‘it’ for him as he seated himself in the rocker next to her. Reaching across he gathered her hand in his and fell into his own thoughts of days gone by.
         He found himself back as a twelve-year-old boy, standing at the foot of the school stairs on that elementary school graduation day evening. This now silver haired woman, once again there, standing at the top of the stairs in cap and gown, smiling beautifully at him, despite a mouth full of braces. Her eyes were dancing with emotion, and her long brown hair flowing, ever so slightly in the evening breeze.
         She had just become an actual teenager a few weeks beforehand. She had had no problem asserting her elderly status upon him, or anyone else for that matter. She possessed a fierce and sure spirit that had drawn him to her back as a child. He had grown to love and rely on it as a man over these many years. He had always loved her from the first moment he had seen her, but had been much to shy to say a word of his feelings toward her.
         That evening when to their young minds and hearts, they felt their known world was forever changed; she called out to him as he passed the steps. Commanded was more of an accurate description by true account of it. She has a tendency to do so without intention still to this day. She had demanded he ascend those stairs and kiss her.
         Shocked stone still, he had been mortified with embarrassment that such would be her request now, right in front of his parents and siblings. He had never kissed a girl before; he had no wish to kiss any other girl. Only her, that had been his hope, dream, and desire in that innocent time of life, He smiled to himself now as he thought of how little, if any, of the important things in life ever actually change over time. He still felt the longing to kiss this silver haired woman; it was a basic life’s need to him, he decided smiling.

         The elderly couple rose as one, no word spoken, too many days together had started to end this way for words to be wasted. He made his way to the old wood stove and began making a fire. She walked slowly into the kitchen filled the kettle for her evening tea, placing it gently on the stove. Returning she looked at this old man, stooped and gray. His body a shell of the strong man he had once been. She smiled as she came up behind him and with a lover’s touch placed her hands on his shoulders. As the kindling caught, she leaned down and kissed the centered baldness on his head that had once held enough hair for two men. Though he was no longer that tall, strong, lean man, she still saw him as such. He would always be her hero in this world and perhaps the next.
         She turned on the television and asked if his Yankees were playing ball tonight. He mumbled something about them being in a slump and it was a good day for them to be not playing. She never did understand the fascination with the game he held but she adored the excitement it brought him.
         She drifted back to her childhood and remembered this man as a child. He had grown up as a poor child, feisty and strong willed, always too small for his age. He had tried so many times to make a place on the local and school sports teams. He had always tried as hard as he could, but had always been cut or if not that, barely made the third string and never played in a real game. All because his body had taken so long to develop and grow in adolescence.
         She wondered if that had somehow given him his devotion to this silly game, and driven him to do the hard physical labor that had been his life’s work. He had become an accomplished stonemason, a master craftsman in the trade, more an artist she thought now.
         She thought back on the many times he had shared and shown her the beautiful things he had built. He was well known and respected for his work in the area. Often people would approach her and tell of the projects he performed for them, as well as their appreciation for his work and generous nature. He was not much of a businessman by any account. He had told her repeatedly he would do the work for free, if he could afford it.
         She always counter-mended this statement with the fact that at the prices he charged he might as well have been. She had stepped in, gently and wisely, later in his life to help guide his finances. She had lovingly helped him see he needed to be fair to himself, as well as his customers. It was not about the money for her. She felt strongly she needed protect a man many said was too good for his own good.
         His love and passion for the work had just naturally blinded him to it’s true worth. He attained his reward and satisfaction by the joy his creation had given to his clients in seeing the finished product for the first time. Yes, he was truly an artist, she admitted. She never had difficulty understanding he was a rough man with a poet's heart. Something she loved and recognized and had never changed in him since childhood.
         She felt the familiar pride well in her chest as she thought of the love and passion this man had given all things in his life, especially her. Yes, he was a man’s man. She smiled to herself, as she once again mentally staked her borders, proclaiming to herself that he was indeed her man, and God help anyone who thought differently. This fleeting thought still made her feel like a young schoolgirl, as she rested her head on his shoulder, as they sat on the couch waiting on the kettle to boil.
As the old man, unconsciously, softly ran his weathered hands over her shoulder and arm, he thought of the long and strange road their lives had taken together and apart. How it all changed by a single event and a few small-unnoticed decisions, which had separated them for almost thirty years.
         He still harbored the regret of failing to overcome his shyness and telling her how much he adored that young girl who had demanded a kiss on the steps all those years ago. So many years lost in between it now seemed to him.
         All throughout their early school years, they had been friends, good friends, almost best friends. Even in high school, they remained close. Remaining so through an age where branching out socially and establishing other friends and relationships was the required social standard of being accepted or not. Adolescences was an age where talent and intelligence had very little to do with being accepted and respected. He mused upon the thought again that in life very little changes with age after all.
         Whether on a job site or a boardroom, advancement did not often go to the most talented or skilled, but to the most successful socially. He supposed that was natural in life too as it was more important to him to be a good man and get along with others, than to step on others to asserting himself and parading his abilities. He felt that was beneath his character and hoped it was actually true about him. He knew he had never had a problem asserting his thoughts and opinions after he reached manhood.
         He thought back of a time when he had been too introverted and again felt the cost of not speaking from his heart. He remembered the pain and loneliness the subsequent years contained, where thoughts of, what if’s in life, had crossed his mind. He thought of this wonderful woman resting now on his chest watching the television. How she had become lost to him for all those many years. He held his regrets to himself yet he still carried a twinge of guilt for all she had to endure in her life’s path without him.
         He remembered making a decision and a promise, very soon after their paths had parted. He had decided he would never again be afraid to speak of his thoughts and feelings to anyone.
         He never has since. The wisdom, grace, and skill required in expressing himself properly eluded him for many years. How to expound upon his thoughts, opinions, and feelings correctly toward others, in kindness and understanding, was a slow process. He always wrestled with the passion that resided in him. His passion, and intensity, more often than not, worked against what he actually wished to accomplish with people. Many a broken nose or heart occurred before fully understanding this lesson.

         As the old woman waddled her way to fix her tea, the man, restless in his thoughts, arose. After absently poking at the fire, he stood before the front window staring up the dirt road that ran back to town. His eyes not focusing on the dusty road or the small stonewall bordering their property. He saw only that rainy high school graduation night so long ago.
         The two graduates had remained friends throughout those years, despite having found different circles of regular friends. Voting her in as the prettiest girl in school by their peers came as no surprise to him. He believed she was the prettiest girl in the entire world, and the smartest. She could have any boy she chose and done anything she decided on in the future.
         This knowledge only lent itself to his feelings of inadequacy and continued reserve. How could he ever approach someone as wonderful as her? He was a poor kid, living in an abusive household, with a father whose violence only escalated after the death of his dear mother. He could never dare to say a word to her of how he felt toward her.
         That night he and his friends had celebrated visiting one home to another and one party after another. He had drunk his fill of beer as they all had. He had somehow caught up with this silver haired beauty at the last party. Still shy but both fairly well intoxicated, he had offered to walk her home. A place not terribly, far from where he stood now.
         Somewhat stumbling along that empty road he had held her close to him as they walked. The night had been overcast and chilly that spring, and the warmth they shared as they walked came not only from their bodies, but from deep within the both of them.
         They laughed in the memories they had lived together and they grew silent with the unknowns of their futures. He had yet to reveal that he was leaving for the armed services in the morning.
         He knew he would have tried to working his way through college if  things had been different with her back then, but he had never given her the slightest hint of his true feelings for her. He had been much too afraid to risk so deep a feeling. His feelings of inadequacy had been rooted in the abuses and neglect he had come to accept over those young years as validation to his worth. He simply felt that he did not deserve being loved, and rather than risk trying, he held his tongue. Besides everyone said she was seeing someone now.
         He knew he could not stay their in that town with his father. He had few choices and no real opportunity, so he had enlisted, and inducted the day after graduation.
The old man with his brows furrowed looked over at the woman slipping her tea on their old sofa. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes as he thought of that night so long ago. He smiled though them and softly asked his same question of her, for what now seemed the millionth time.

         “Have I ever told you I love you?” he said with a boyish grim on an old man’s face.

         “Oh Sweetheart, I don’t know. You just might have let that one slip out once or twice. But tell me again anyway!” She said with a playful and loving look meant only for him.

         “I love you with all that I am, all that I shall ever be, and with all that is in me,          My Love. Forever.” He professed, staring into her eyes.

         He slowly turned back to the window as her eyes stayed on him with a quizzical look.

         “Are you okay, Sweetheart? What’s the matter Hon?” she asked sincerely.

         “I’m fine.” he replied, “Just thinking about some things is all. Not to worry, Dear”

         She knew him and knew that at times he just needed left to his thoughts alone. She knew of the pain and sorrows this man had suffered in his lifetime. Some still endured in his heart. She had tried over the years to comfort and help him bear this private unspoken burden. She knew how to reach him, as no other person ever could or would, but there was a deep river in him, one which she could never pass across.
         The stories of his life without her caused her heart to ache. Hearing of the tragedies, sorrows, and disappointments life had inflicted upon him which he had to bear alone since they had first parted always unsettled her. Not being able to take the sorrow, or shield this wonderful man from them, hurt her deep in her heart. These were not hers to take she knew, but her love for him would allow her to feel nothing less than the will to do so for him. Such was the love they shared.

         Overcast and damp, the two graduates walked leaning on each other for a combination of guidance and support. Laughing in mild slurs and hearts full of the many things that life only affords to the young and young at heart, they suddenly found the skies opening up above them. They ran up the road to an old ram shackled shed just off the muddy track. The space available in that broken down door-less shack offered no more entrance than to barely escape the pelting rain.
         Close and wet, he had brushed her hair out of her eyes, as he felt his heart swell with what had laid there for all these many years. She must have recognized the look in his eyes and the love that lay in them. She slowly put her arms around him and pressed herself into him. He melted against her soft body and held her against him. She pulled her head back and then leaned in and kissed him, not as the child that had kissed him years before, but as a woman kisses her man. That was the first time she had ever placed her cheek upon his chest, just as she had done this evening.
         He had held on to those memories all the days of his now long life. Many a time, the memory of them had helped keep him going when life beset him and threatened to swallow him from every side. To this day, he never felt as safe and at peace in the world as he did with her cheek upon his chest.
         The old man smiled in remembrance of those kisses and the holding of one another. They were to him one of his greatest treasures in life, but she was his greatest treasure.
         He remembered her now, the cold and wet clothes causing her head to spin. Her emotions amplified from the alcohol. Starting to cry, she revealed to him how lonely and afraid she was. Baffled by the news that she had no boyfriend or had even had a date to accompany her to prom, he held her in silence and listened to her. He remembered her frustration and hurt, as she spoke through her tears, feeling so alone and unloved, feeling so much attune to what he himself had felt back then.
         His heart broke in the hearing of it, and yet he could not utter a single word that lived in his heart for her. He would be angry and ashamed of himself for that for a long time to come.
         They had held each other close through the entire storm, how long he did not know, minutes or hours he could not honestly say. He did know that he was still proud and thankful to have been the one with her that night. He had been noble and selfless toward her, returning her to her home untouched, despite his desires for her and her induced willingness for him.
         He believed she deserved the best of him and that night he had given the best of his heart even though his words had failed him. There would be many a cold and lonely night to come, where he questioned himself that night. Yet he has never once regretted his decision to act honorably toward her. His love for her would never allow less than that.