Kiss and Tales A Romantic Collection Read online

  “Better make it to go,” he said.

  *****

  Trevor was at his post in the security station later that evening. He was leaning back in his swivel chair with his feet on the counter and his cap pulled over face, resting his eyes from the harsh florescent light that shone down from the ceiling. He was snoring quietly when he was suddenly startled awake by a tap on the perplex window that normally allowed him to see who enters the building. He sat up quickly, sliding his cap back onto his head. He expected to see Mike Astley, the tower’s caretaker, standing there with his usual disproving look but Instead Trevor was surprised to see a 'take out' coffee cup perched on the thin ledge just the other side of the window. It had the Clio's logo printed on the side. Trevor could hear rapid, receding footsteps heading towards the main doors, which slammed loudly and caused the Perspex window to vibrate as usual.

  "Oh crap!" Trevor said aloud, as the coffee cup fell off the ledge and out of view, followed by a loud wet splat.

  A little later, as Trevor was mopping up the spilt coffee that had cascaded across the whole width of the corridor, he head the main door open behind him. When he turned, he saw Jan sheepishly walking towards him.

  “Oh my, did I do that?” She asked with embarrassment. “I thought the ledge looked a bit narrow.”

  “Not to worry," Trevor said, nervously. “It won’t take long to clean up.”

  Jan offered to help and took the mop from Trevor’s trembling grasp, her fingertips softly brushed against the back of his hand as she did so. Trevor didn’t know what to do. Here she was at last and all he could do was mumble incoherently, his mind had gone completely blank.

  “Oh thanks," he sputtered and pointed to a damp spot near his security station. “Maybe you can start there while I change the water."

  “Oh Okay," Jan replied, while Trevor dashed off down the corridor to the Caretaker’s office, which had a utility room and a large sink. He unlocked the door and stumbled in, cursing himself for loosing his nerve.

  Pull yourself together, he thought. What's the matter with you? He splashed his face with cold water from the hand sink and refilled the bucket with hot soapy water before returning to Jan, who was making short work of the wet floor.

  "Let me replace that coffee for you," she said, while she finished up.

  "Oh, you don't have..." Trevor started politely but managed to stop himself before he completely sabotaged the opportunity. "Okay," he said quickly, "that would be nice. Shall we go to Clio's?"

  "No we can’t I'm afraid," Jan said regretfully, "we've just closed up. I think it's going to have to be the chicken shop."

  *****

  Trevor and Jan shivered as they stepped out into the cold October air. Winter was beginning to draw in so they quickly trotted round the block to the ‘Bucket O’ Chicken’, a ‘takeaway’ that also took up one of the tower’s ground floor commercial units. Jan led Trevor past the two tables that were always chained up outside and into the shop, just as the wind kicked up the ash from a large over flowing ashtray that sat on one of the tables, causing it to swirl around like a grey, grimy mist.

  *****

  “Let me get this," Jan said quickly, as they passed some greasy tables and approached a thin prissy looking man behind the counter.

  “Two coffees please Stan," Jan said warmly. “The man nodded back his greeting.”

  “No chicken this time Jan?” He said, his voice revealing no interest what so ever.

  “Not today thanks,” Jan replied cheerfully, but I’ll take a cloth for one of the tables if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself," Stan muttered, as he tossed over a filthy damp cloth.

  Jan had to wipe down one of the interior tables, which wobbled violently as she did so, before Trevor and Jan could sit down opposite each other with their polystyrene cups of coffee.

  “Not as nice as Clio’s I’m afraid,” Jan apologised, "but at least it’s warm in here."

  “I heard that Jan!” The mane called out from behind the counter, but his tone of voice seemed more bored then annoyed.

  “That’s alright Jan," Trevor replied, ignoring Stan’s comment. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while actually.”

  “Really,” Jan said, “what about?” The question threw Trevor, who had assumed Jan’s recent behaviour had suggested that she liked him too.

  “Oh, err,” he spluttered again. “I just, well you know. I wanted to say hi?”

  “Why’s that then?” Jan replied, straight faced. Trevor looked horrified and sat silently for a few seconds.

  “Trevor?” Jan asked. “Are you okay, you’ve gone all quiet.”

  “No no, I’m okay, it’s just that …” Trevor fell silent again, causing Jan to suddenly laugh. Trevor felt relaxed by her warm affectionate laughter and joined her.

  “Oh Trevor relax,” she said. “You look dead funny, like you’re constipated or something.”

  “Sorry Jan," Trevor apologised, taking his breath. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to talk to you for days but something always seems to get in the way. Now that I have your full attention, I don’t know what to say anymore.” Jan stopped laughing and stared deeply into Trevor’s eyes.

  “Now listen,” she said suddenly. “I know you’re shy and I don’t mind that, in fact I kind of like it, but I’m an old fashioned kind of girl and it’s got to be you who says it.”

  “Says What?” Trevor said, stunned again.

  “Trevor!”

  “Oh that. Okay! Would you like to go out with me for a cup of coffee or something some day?” Jan suddenly relaxed, smiling.

  “I would love to Trevor,” she replied. “When did you have in mind?”

  “Well I’m working tonight and again to…” He caught Jan’s look from across the table. “Or maybe, what about right now?” Jan squealed in delight and leant across the table, grabbing Trevor by the lapels of his jacket and dragging him towards her until he was close enough for her to squarely kiss him on the lips.

  “Wow!" Trevor said, as they both slumped back down on their seats, opposite each other and across the table. Jan stood up and walked around to his chair.

  “Right,” she said, straightening down his lapels. “You’d best get back to work. I’ll pop in to see you after work tonight, then we can meet here this Sunday and you can take me to the pictures.”

  “Okay," Trevor said, stunned but happy, and then watched as she walked briskly out of the shop doors.

  Chris Raven © 2014

  Love at First Sight

  One glance,

  The smallest look in your direction,

  And I knew you were the one.

  The way my heart stopped when my eyes met yours,

  How I speechlessly gazed at you,

  When I couldn't even blink an eye,

  In fear of you disappearing,

  In that one second,

  Becoming a figment of my imagination.

  The sparks between us flew instantly,

  And I knew it all pointed to love.

  I was a victim of Cupid and his toxic arrows.

  You were the one,

  My angel sent from above,

  My prince coming to save me on his steed,

  My soul mate who would stand by me every day,

  My other half who would love everything that I am,

  The keeper of my chipped heart,

  Who would make it whole once again.

  Your eyes,

  Filled with every shade of green,

  Like a beautiful, peaceful forest,

  And flecks of gold,

  Oh- so- gorgeous,

  They mesmerized me.

  Your hair,

  The color of the darkest night sky,

  Mysteriously covering your face,

  As if attempting to hide in the shadows,

  Tempting me to uncover what secrets were hidden deep inside.

  That smile...

  It was like nothing I had ever seen before.<
br />
  So perfect, so right,

  I could stare at it for hours.

  It was like a million rays of light,

  Sparkling, dazzling me,

  Making me feel faint with joy.

  It was the way your eyes sparkled in the light,

  How your smile sent me floating on the clouds,

  The mysterious, yet kind mien you held,

  That made me fall head over heels for you.

  From that one look,

  I could just tell you were the one I'd been looking for.

  And how you looked back at me,

  With those soft, beautiful eyes,

  I knew you felt the same.

  Who said there was no such thing as love at first sight?

  Madhu Kalyan Mattaparthi ©2014

  You Contradict Yourself

  By Gunjan Vyas

  Summertime. Sun shining high in the sky, birds chirping their happiness, lovers sitting in parks as they chatted about their future and kids staying out all day enjoying their summer holidays. It seemed like a season of love and happiness for everyone except Maya, who just wanted everyone to shut the hell up.

  Her summers were never happy because she had to spend them with her father, who had divorced her mother when she was just four. Every year during her summer holidays, Maya had to stay in the countryside with her, obnoxiously, cheerful father. She could see obvious reasons as to why her mother must have divorced this man: he was just too cheerful.

  He used to sing happy country songs while cooking, ‘affectionately’ call her Mally Tally (did that even make sense?), had nicknames for almost everyone he knew (including his ex-wife who he ‘affectionately’ called Llama), and the list could go on and on and on. Maya’s grievances did not end here, she also had to sleep on a bright pink, fluffy, bouncy bed which was fit for a seven year old, had to meet her weird aunts every Friday and sing stupid country songs with them, go on a morning job with her father every day (which as time passed, didn’t seem too bad), had to clean the house with her father every Sunday and… her train of thought stopped as her eyes landed on the one person she had not expected to see here at this point of time. (Long sentence)Her eyes widened in recognition and her mouth gaped in shock, what the hell was she doing here?

  “Mom?!” She called out exasperatedly, as she ran towards her.

  “Maya! Thank god you are here, I was so confused! This place has changed a lot since I last came here,” she said, as if lost in an old memory.

  “What are you doing here?” Maya asked impatiently. She wasn’t supposed to be seen in this colourful hell. She should have been doing something sensible at her job and not be a part of this circus.

  “I have some holidays to spare so I came here to see how my daughter is doing,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Maya, how are you doing this summer?”

  Maya looked to her side and spoke with the same monotonous tone that had now become a part of her personality.

  “The same.”

  Her mother sighed audibly, clearly disappointed with her response.

  “And to think he will grow up after all these years.” Maya’s mother shook her head in mock despair before smiling and looking at her.

  “Now, where is your father’s house?”

  Maya could already feel that her days from now were not going to be anything but unusual.

  *****

  The road was long and brimming with life, many were on an evening walk just like her but no one was alone (she could only spot people in pairs and groups) but today, unlike every day, she was not alone either. Even though she was the guide, it was her mother who walked ahead, taking proud steps and keeping an eye on her just so she didn’t take any wrong turn. (Confused. Who is taking proud steps and who is keeping an eye?)

  She was so different from her goofy father, so proud, confident, sensible, and beautiful. Maya admired her.

  “I see the church still looks the same.”

  Maya gazed at her mother’s back, waiting for her to turn and explain why she had said it and what it meant but she just kept walking. Maya wondered if she was talking to herself and then inwardly shook her head.

  That would be so unlike her. Her mother, unlike most of the others of her gender, wasn’t dreamy, stupid and superficial. She was a practical, no-nonsense woman who knew the way things worked. She didn’t want a man to support her, she didn’t need to rant about her problems to her relatives and acquaintances (she didn’t have any stupid friends). She didn’t bitch about her co-workers with other co-workers, nor was she ever involved in any kind of scandals. She was perfection.

  Maya could see why her goofy father wasn’t the right life partner for such an amazing individual.

  As they approached their destination, her mother’s steps were more definite as if her memory was guiding her. Even though she was wearing a five inch heel, Maya had to almost run to keep up with her and, yet again, she was awed by her grace.

  *****

  The destination was here, inviting them in to join what Maya thought was going to be hell. She didn’t want to go in; she was so scared! How would her father react when he saw the least likely person he had ever expected at his doorstep?

  She remembered seeing him in a bad mood just once. When she was really young, some man had tried to sexually abuse her in a mall’s parking lot where she was waiting for her father. Her father was angry, really angry, and then there was blood, the body of an unconscious man, sounds of sirens and her silent father coldly wiping the scum’s blood from his knuckles.

  She had forgotten what the stranger was doing or going to do to her but the sight of her silent father punching the man right in the face was something that had been burned into her brain. It cancelled out the entire incident of near-sexual abuse, with that strangely shocking image of her father protecting his daughter like a fierce wild animal but with the control of a grown, intelligent man.

  A part of her wondered if this was how he would react when he saw his Llama after eleven years: a cold, controlled anger taking place in his person and the cheerful man falling into oblivion.

  The thought disturbed her more than it should have.

  She looked at her mother, trying to find a single line of worry or apprehension on her face but she was calmer than ever as she raised her hand to ring the doorbell of the house. Maya held her breath in excitement and fear, the uncertainty of what was about to happen was driving her crazy.

  “What’s wrong, Maya? You seem too quiet.”

  “You know I like to stay quiet, mom.”

  The door opened and there he was: Her father, her mother’s ex-husband.

  *****

  Maya’s breath was caught in her throat and her eyes were wide with curiosity. She couldn’t imagine what would happen in the next few seconds. Her father was standing right in front of her mother and they would start interacting in a moment or two. Her heart sped up when she saw her mother part her lips a little. Her eyes quickly darted towards her father’s face which was expressionless and relaxed.

  “How are you?” Came her mother’s voice. It was calm and neutral but held a sinister vibe about it, like the sea before a storm. (Nothing wrong with this line, I just really liked it )

  She didn’t turn to look at her face though. She had heard that voice enough times to know what expression went with it. Her eyes were fixed on her father who still did not show any change in his expression. In fact, it did look a bit grim, with his lips drawn in a line and eyes without their usual sparkle.

  A minute passed and no one uttered a word. The tension between them could be cut by a knife and Maya wanted it to disappear. She opened her mouth to say something when her mother again spoke.

  “How are you, Jeffrey?”

  Her voice was still calm and ominous, without a trace of anger or irritation if she was feeling any. Maya wondered how her mother was so awesome.

  Her eyes moved to her father’s face and it still didn’t betray any emotion. What was wrong with h
im? Couldn’t he just behave normally and let things be?

  This time she didn’t wait for anyone and spoke.

  “Dad! Mom is asking how you are.”

  He didn’t respond to her. He was there, all stern-faced and lost, and she wanted to scream.

  “Dad!” she said loudly and, this time, his eyes moved towards her, then towards his ex-wife and stayed there as if analysing her.

  “Llama...” He whispered but it was loud enough for the two ladies to hear. His ex-wife’s face contorted in an irritated expression.

  “I am Liama. After all these years, you still have to pronounce it wrong.”

  “Llama. Llama. Llama!” He shouted cheerily, as his face beamed a large smile. “You’re here, my love!”

  Maya’s thoughts were a confused array of words and phrases.

  Love? His love? What? Why? He still loves her?

  She noticed how he never mentioned her mother during holidays and had always concluded that it was his dislike towards their failed relationship that never allowed him to be obnoxiously cheerful about it, like he was about everything else (which was a good thing in itself). Did he actually love her?

  “You are still the same. Why don’t you understand this is the exact reason why I left you?” Liama asked, annoyed at her husband’s never improving mental condition. (POV Change?)

  “Come on, Maya. Let’s go in. He will lock the door when he comes in.”

  She brushed past him with a natural arrogance and went inside. Maya followed her and called out in a hesitated voice.

  “Mom...”

  “Yeah?” Liama replied absently, as she looked around the place.

  “Nothing,” she said and stood next to her.

  “This place has changed a bit. We didn’t have those blue curtains before.” Liama pointed towards the kitchen window and Maya shrugged.

  “Aunt Jean gifted them the day before yesterday because it is so hot. She thinks blue will keep the kitchen cool and anyone working in there would feel cool and happy.”

  “She has always had a weird train of thought.”

  Maya heard the sound of the door being shut and saw her dad standing inside the living room with them. He was unnaturally quiet for a moment before he started sniffling.

  “Llama and Mally… My most favourite ladies are here with me in my house together after eleven years. I can’t believe it. I think I will cry.”