Kiss and Tales A Romantic Collection Read online

  “Don’t you think this is so strange?” he said, interrupting my thoughts.

  I turned to him and found him looking up at the sky.

  “If you’re calling me strange, then you may have to create your own funeral,” I said.

  “No, no. I mean, we are just strangers to each other yet we act like we’ve known each other for years,” he explained.

  “I don’t know what you mean. I just wanted you to see what’s around you but you were busy listening to your stupid music player,” I said, fixing my hair. We were silent for a while but he broke it with a question.

  “How can you say I won’t hurt you? What makes you trust me?” he asked.

  I smiled at him, he didn’t know that from years of staying alone I had developed an impeccable sense of judgement. I could tell a person’s character by just a few minutes of observation.

  “You seemed like a calm person to me. I thought you were like me, going out for a walk just to get away from the monotonous routine, until I knew you were a total pervert!”

  “How can you even say that? I served as your pillow and you didn’t even thank me,” he said with mock sadness.

  “Thank you. Happy now?”

  “You sound like you don’t mean it.”

  “You’re really trying to get on my nerves, aren’t you?”

  “Not really.”

  I chuckled lightly thinking how we were arguing like childhood friends but we hadn’t even introduced ourselves.

  “I just remembered, we haven’t introduced ourselves to each other.”

  “I’ll be first. I’m Anima, “I said, sticking out my hand towards him.

  “Nice to meet you, I am Gaurav,” he said, before taking my hand in his and shaking it lightly. We exchanged warm smiles.

  “So, should we call each other by our names now?” I said, trying to start a conversation.

  “Of course not,” he disagreed.

  “Why not?” I asked. What was wrong with this guy?

  “I like not knowing you,” he said, with a stern expression.

  “Are you trying to have me beat you up?”

  “I’m just messing with you,” he chuckled and gave me a smug grin.

  I punched him again on the head because I was so annoyed.

  “I think you already did,” I giggled looking at his hurt face.

  “Fine, I’ll stop already,” he said, as he rubbed the sore spot.

  Everything was silent again but not awkward, I felt very comfortable in his presence and I believe he did too.

  All of a sudden, he asked a really weird question.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” I smiled because I knew a perfect answer to it.

  “Of course I do, it makes me feel like I have found somebody I really love,” I answered.

  He looked at me seriously and then he stood and pulled me up from the bench.

  “Why are you making me stand up?” I grumbled.

  “Stop whining and follow me,” he said.

  I followed him to a bridge over the river. Why did he ask me if I believed in love at first sight? And why did he ask me to follow him to a bridge near the park? What was going on?

  He stopped and looked at his reflection in the water.

  I too looked at his reflection, how cute he looked when he was serious.

  I was surprised when I felt like I saw him for the first time. Feels like……love at first sight. I froze. He looked at me so sadly.

  “Aren’t you afraid to love someone you just saw?” He suddenly asked and I was unable to answer.

  “You know what? The funny thing about love at first sight is, you won’t know if the person you see loves you back,” he said with a sad look.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. What happened to this proud, grinning guy all of a sudden?

  “I’ll answer your question with another question, why can’t you stop asking so many questions?” He said in an irritated voice.

  “B...B...Because, I want to know what you’re thinking,” I answered, what was with this sudden change in personality?

  He ignored me and continued to look at his reflection.

  I felt bad for not being able to do anything, he looked forlorn and in need of love so I did what came to my mind first; I hugged him.

  “Don’t be so lonely, just tell me what’s wrong,” I whispered.

  He turned around and looked at me. Slowly, he bent down and his face was so close to mine, I could feel his hot breaths on my skin.

  Everything was happening in slow motion. Every movement he made was clearer than the daylight.

  “W...Why did you do that?” I stuttered rubbing the moist imprint of his lips.

  “You didn’t like it?” he said.

  “O...Of course not!” I denied and gave him a dangerous look but he only laughed.

  “Well, you wanted me to cheer up, didn’t you? So I kissed you,” he explained in the same matter-of-fact manner.

  “How can kissing me cheer you up?” I yelled, angrily. On the inside however, I wanted to kiss him back.

  “My mom kissed me on the cheek when I was still a boy to cheer me up but, in your case, I knew you wouldn’t kiss me so I kissed you,” he explained.

  “You could’ve told me!” I huffed angrily and turned away from him.

  “Why should I, would you do it?” he asked.

  “Of course I would!”

  “You…What?” he asked in a surprised voice and I blushed so hard I could feel my cheeks heating up.

  “I...I would not!” I corrected myself.

  “Then, I rest my case,” he said.

  I looked around nervously and fumbled with the hem of my top for a few minutes.

  “Why were you so sad anyway?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  “It’s because I know you wouldn’t love a guy like me,” he said, looking at the sky. I froze again; I didn’t know what to say.

  “Weren’t you wondering why a guy stayed with you, even though you had punched him hard enough to make him terribly angry? And why I asked you about believing in love at first sight?” He continued.

  “The moment I saw you, the very second I took my hood off, I saw you and I fell for you.”

  And to think that I actually thought that I was being crazy in liking a guy I just met, while he was the one having a hard time.

  “Can’t you give me a chance to tell you that I...” I said, before I was rudely interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.

  “Excuse me,” he said, taking a distance away from me. He answered the phone and I overheard him saying that he was on his way back home. He approached me.

  “I’m sorry for bothering you with my stupid feelings of love, he said. “I got to go home, my mom needs me.” He gave me a hug and then he ran the other way.

  I can’t believe I wasn’t able to say that I loved him back. I couldn’t even ask for his contact number or address when he started to run away from me; I just stood where I was.

  After that I went to the park every day, hoping I would see him again and try to know the reason behind his sadness. Why did he think I couldn’t love him? Why did he consider himself not worthy of being loved? What did his mother need him for that he couldn’t wait for even a few minutes?

  I could never get to know the answers because for all these years I haven’t seen him once and from this experience I realized that love isn’t fair to anyone.

  Madhu Kalyan Mattaparthi ©2014

  A Valentine from Marcella

  She was from Evanston and grew up Lutheran.

  I lived on the South Side of Chicago and had been an acolyte.

  She dug big burgers and french fries, and I liked to watch her indulge.

  The colors of our skin were in contrast but meshed perfectly on summer, spring,winter, and fall days and nights.

  Her family liked that I wrote poetry and loved to dance.

  My family knew there was someone but wasn't sure whom.

  Ironic that duality
was.

  She questioned me about this with dark eyes softly ripping truth from me, and unfortunately, I had no lies to give.

  I never want to see you again were the last words that voice my ears tuned to more than my favorite radio station said.

  Drove my 1977 Ford Granada to Rainbow Beach and sobbed.

  No one could see or hear me, save for me, so I stopped.

  I did this to me.

  Only time I have been a coward.

  Loved that woman with all my heart and whatever else I had.

  I knew better but didn't do so, but I'm black, and she wasn't; this was late 80's Chicago you must understand.

  Telling you this because I received her Valentine's Day card from her like I have for the last decade with her lipstick planted as signature and Hanae Mori perfume coating it.

  Happy Valentine's Day Marcella...

  Greatest Poet Alive © 2014

  Sunnyside

  By Peter John

  Sunnyside Rest Home was considered to be outdated compared with the new modern institution that had recently sprung up a few miles away. It was nothing more than two semi-detached houses knocked through into one large building. Originally housing eight residents, it had seen several extensions over the years that had doubled its capacity but even the most modern section was almost 20 years old. Ernie didn’t care. Sunnyside had been his home for the past ten years and he had grown rather fond of its eccentricities. He liked the way that most of the home hadn’t been decorated since the late 1970’s. He adored the old Formica furnishings and the way decades of polishing had caused the plastic to peel at the edges. He enjoyed walking around the eclectic garden and looking at the different plots cultivated by past and present residents. It was the clashing sea of colour that never failed to brighten his mood. Ernie loved living at Sunnyside, mostly for the way the home could make him feel thirty years younger now and again. There was nowhere else he would rather live out his final years than in that old, tumbledown rest-home but no matter how often Ernie expressed his wishes, his son seemed unable to grasp them.

  “Just look at the picture Dad,” Ernie’s son said, as he waved a glossy pamphlet in front of his face. “It’s brand-new, clean and easily accessible; it’s a big improvement from this dump.”

  Ernie looked at his son as he sat opposite him in the day room. Dressed in a smart suit and shiny shoes, he looked every bit the successful business man that he was and Ernie couldn’t help feeling proud of him. He had worked hard to achieve what he wanted from life but he wouldn’t accept that Ernie didn’t desire the same things.

  “It looks okay, son, but I’m happy here,” Ernie said, as he squinted at the pamphlet; it showed the image of a bright new building with plain square concrete walls.

  “You are only saying that because you’re set in your ways, Dad. Once you have settled into this place, life will be so much easier for you. Everything is set out for your convenience. You won’t have to struggle anymore, they even have nurses on call 24 hours a day so that you don’t have to do anything for yourself if you don’t want to. It’s all laid out for you, Dad, and I won’t have to keep worrying about you being stuck in this dump all day long.”

  “It all sound too clinical to me, it doesn’t sound like my cup of tea at all.”

  “At least think about it Dad, I really think it would be a good move for you.”

  *****

  After his son had left, Ernie flicked through the glossy pamphlet. It was filled with phrases like ‘compact and cosy, open plan apartments’ and ‘easily accessible for people with restricted mobility’. It sounded like more like a hospital than a home to Ernie and the whole building reminded him of a television series about a prison, which he used to watch regularly a couple of decades ago. Ernie didn’t want pastel-coloured walls and double glazing staring at him twenty-four seven, making him feel weighed down by every year of his age. He liked his old room on the first floor next to Mrs Butterham and her tendency to hum all the old tunes in her sleep. He liked living at Sunnyside and, besides, he couldn’t face moving further away from Mary.

  *****

  With his thick sheepskin coat wrapped around him and his stout, wooden walking stick in his hand, Ernie stepped out into the rain. He lifted up the collar of his coat to protect his neck against the chilly breeze that swept across him. He could still feel the cold regardless of his thick clothing but nothing so simple as the weather would prevent him from performing his daily routine. Ernie had walked the one hundred yards to see Mary every day for the past ten years. Each day the walk seemed to take longer and felt more arduous; it didn’t seem so long ago when he could almost skip up the hill. Nowadays he needed to lean onto his stick with every step and take regular breaks but nothing would deter him from visiting Mary. As he leaned back against the wall by the big iron gates to catch his breath, Ernie thought about how his life had changed in the past ten years and how Sunnyside had put the life back into him. The small close-knit community that the rest-home signified had pulled him out of the pit of despair. They had given him back his life and the thought of leaving them made him anxious. Standing up straight, Ernie walked through the iron gates and carefully stepped across the grass until he reached Mary. Just like any other day, he stood over her and spoke to her about everything that was happening in his life.

  The rain eased off and the sun began to peek between the clouds as he told Mary about their son. After a while his mind began to drift off into the past and he spoke of their time together. He remembered and retold the story of their first meeting as if it had happened only yesterday. Ernie could really cut a rug back then and he spent every Saturday night down at the Playhouse Ballroom dancing away until his legs felt like jelly. He would dance with just about anyone who was willing, that was until Mary had caught his eye. Sandwiched between her two friends, she glided into the room as if walking on air. Ernie stopped in his tracks mid-turn and the woman he was dancing with had stumbled to the point of almost falling onto the parquet floor. Ernie had hardly noticed, mesmerised by the woman walking towards him. Her hair was the colour of freshly-cut straw which glinted as if caught in moonlight. Her eyes were of the deepest blue and seemed to look directly into Ernie’s soul. At that very moment he knew that his life was about to change.

  Dragging himself back into the present, he stared down at Mary’s grave. A tear threatened to form but he took a deep breath and blinked his eyes dry.

  “I love you and I miss you girl.” His voice crackled and then fell silent. He had said all he needed to.

  Ernie would usually spend the noon hour by her side and the time was fast approaching one o’clock.

  He stepped away from Mary’s grave and began the slow walk back to Sunnyside Rest Home, only glancing back once. He felt weighed down by an empty heart and saddened mind. Every day since Mary had passed away Ernie would feel guilty for being able to live on without her. At first he had expected to follow her to the grave but his stubborn old body still lingered on, even though sometimes the walk home would seem to take forever. His feet felt heavy and his muscles weak, even the downhill gradient seemed to do little to aid his progress. It was only when Sunnyside came into view that his mood brightened. The sight of the old weathered roof with its several missing tiles always filled him with warmth. The pitted and cracked eggshell that covered the outside walls and the slightly wonky guttering made him aware of his heart pumping in his chest as if it had previously been static. The damaged, concrete garden path with grass sprouting from every crack beckoned him closer. His home wasn’t perfect but it was still his home. He could see Mrs Butterham waiting for him by the front door. It was as if she could sense him as he dragged his feet and scraped his walking stick along the gravel road. He pushed open the loud creaky garden gate and walked down the long, welcoming path to the house. Mrs Butterham welcomed him home with that bright smile of hers; she never failed to gladden his heart with a few kind words and warm embrace.

  *****

  Sunn
yside Rest Home was where Ernie felt he belonged. He didn’t need a new modern building with highly-trained nursing staff and its own bowling green. He didn’t need to be waited on hand and foot by complete strangers. He didn’t want to spend the twilight years of his life cooped up in the characterless atmosphere of clean white walls and bath chairs. Ernie was happy where he was. Sunnyside was his home and, even though the wallpaper was peeling and the carpets had been worn down to the hessian in places, it was the perfect place for him to live. Sunnyside Rest Home was only a short walk from Mary and Ernie Butterham knew that he would always have the love and understanding of his second wife waiting for him to return.

  Peter John © 2014

  Your Smile

  When you smile...

  And laugh...

  And look at me...

  It’s one of the best feelings...

  That is the moment...

  When I don't remember...

  But is the same moment I'll have forever...

  I just stay there in...

  My mind for a while...

  Laughing as well...

  like a child.

  I feel like the world...

  Is perfect again...

  Almost heaven.

  I don't have to think

  About making mistakes...

  Or worry about...

  What will happen next?

  There is nothing now to fix...

  Everything is accomplished...

  In that single moment.

  I will help you...

  Understand you...

  And try to...

  make you smile.

  I don't want you to feel what I feel...

  I don't want you to be sad one bit...

  No one should suffer the pain I am suffering

  Not even for a little while.

  All you gotta do is smile...

  Madhu Kalyan Mattaparthi ©2014

  One Day in the Rain

  By Priya Bhardwaj

  It was a Saturday afternoon and the sky was a mass of very thick and dark clouds that usually bring rain and sometimes thunder- a little too romantic for her to be working when all she could think about was enjoying the day with someone special, that was yet to be found she thought, sighing heavily. Lost in her thoughts, Ria, unaware of everything around her, kept staring outside the window. Suddenly when the corner of her eye caught someone walking towards her office desk, she turned around to find her boss.