Swooning for Kisses

A short story by LJ Kundananji

Swooning for kisses,
Barely within your reach,
You can actually smell their wetness;
But they flee your trembling lips
Leaving a dripping mouth
And a breaking heart
That never becomes broken.

She said it as a matter of fact: “No. You are my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he replied. But he was not so certain. He was not certain about anything anymore. He thought he was in love with her. But now, he had only an unsettling feeling in the pit of his heart. That did not feel like love at all. It felt like—misery. It was.

“David, I am your best friend. I cannot become more than this.”

They were standing in the middle of the small room, wrapped in each other arms. Flanked on either side by neatly made beds, he had the urge to fling her on one of the beds. But he channeled that urge somewhere else: he held her tighter. His chin on her nape, he took in her perfume and shuddered. He massaged her back with his palms.

God, he loved this girl.

‘If you’re not the one then why does my soul feel glad today? If you are not the one then why does my hand fit yours this way?’ Daniel Beddingfield sang, his clear, poignant voice emanating from the speakers of the radio that stood on a table at the other extremity of the room. David could not contain himself anymore. His heart throbbing harder, he recalled his cousin’s advice earlier that day.

Trust me, it’s gonna work. I’ll be very disappointed if you don’t do it.

The words echoed in his mind, driving him, lashing at him like a whip. He slowly loosed himself, moving his hands slowly up her back and towards her neck. Within fractions of a second, he acted.

His lips grappled at hers. His eyes closed, he was beside himself. It was almost as if he was out of his body, standing from a distance and watching this scene. He couldn’t believe it was happening to him, and he found it even more unbelievable when she began to respond, allowing him to slowly start working his tongue into her mouth.

This is too good to be true. He thought. He was right. She suddenly turned her head aside. His wet, eager lips landed on the soft of her cheek. He winced.

“I am sorry.” She breathed. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But… no… you are not going to hurt me.” He whimpered. He tried again but she was totally unreceptive. He felt stupid.

I shouldn’t have tried this. He thought. It was a daft idea.

If there was something that felt totally amiss, David learnt in that moment, it was an incomplete kiss. It left you hungering, thirsting. It aroused a fire, a conflagration that licked at your soul, threatening to consume you.

She allowed him to hold her for a little while longer. The warmth of her body seemed to mock his soul.

“What if by not doing this… you are actually hurting me?”

She was silent. Silence felt to be the appropriate answer. A pained smile spread across her lips; and a suppressed chuckle made her gulp.

“I love you.” He breathed earnestly, his mouth buried in her bosom. He couldn’t bear to stare her in the face and see those voluminous eyes, those big, beautiful eyes that seemed to bore deep into his soul, because he found it difficult to believe that such eyes could not love him back.

“I am sorry.” She finally breathed. “I am sorry I can’t love you back. I know how it is like to love someone who does not love you back.”

“Hmm.” He sniggered. “It seems to be the norm for me these days. Leaves you wondering if something is dramatically wrong with you.”

“You are a wonderful, man, Dave.” She sounded earnest. “Nothing is wrong with you. You are a good guy. A good person.”

The words fell on incredulous ears. “Then why? Is it because I am a small man? Is it because I have no money, and live in this God-forsaken little room?”

“No!” There was the glister of tears in the corner of her eyes.

“Tell me,” he was beginning to feel angry. Not with her. With himself, for not being that man she could fall in love with. “I know you like big, you wretched little woman. Why do you small women like big? Is it my fault that I am small? What should I do, big up myself?”

“No, Dave. That’s not true. You are perfect the way you are. I just love you as a friend. And you are my best friend. I do not want to lose you.”

David sniggered as his nose savored the smell of her perfume. It was funny, but girls always seemed to be the ones who decided what kind of relationship they would have with a guy. You meet this girl, you start hanging out, and before you could figure out what is really going on, she says “You are my best friend.” It happened all the time and it startled him. And if she ever said “You are my boyfriend” it always turned out to be a joke, and only because she wanted to prevent another guy from being her boyfriend.

It seemed his friends were right. If you do not make it clear from the beginning that you are romantically interested in a girl, she would categorize you as ‘just a friend’. And you would be doomed forever.

Girls are selfish, he thought. Beastly little things.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she repeated.

He loosed himself from the hug. He stared into her face with slight derision. “It’s too late. You can’t stop what I feel for you. I love you, and I will always love you. I don’t even understand it; but I just do.”

Silence.

He paced to the window and stared outside. He suddenly made up his decision. He was not going to say anything anymore. It would only hurt him. Perhaps love wasn’t meant for him. All the girls told him the same thing: “You are my best friend. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He was now resolute. He was not going to have anything to do with girls from now on. They only hurt his feelings. So he was going to cage his feelings. Perhaps that was his problem. Perhaps if he could only hide his true feelings, he would be getting the love he deserved. The problem was that he loved too easily, and he loved too intensely.

He recollected his cousin’s words: if you show that you are madly in love with a girl, they will lose interest in you. But if you are cold and aloof, you will attract their attention.

“I have to leave.”

“You know the way out.” He did not look at her, his eyes focused on a distant tree whose distinct shape made him nostalgic.

He hear d the door open, and then shut, and when he looked, she was gone. He suddenly felt empty. He always felt that way when she left.

He felt the tears welling behind his eyelids; but he was not going to let them. This wasn’t over. Not yet.

He loved taking walks around campus in the early evening. Campus always seemed to be a hive of activity whatever time of the day. There were monks and bungwes drinking their senses away at the Student Centre; young, energetic men and women playing basketball at the court; rowdy young men trying to big up their prowess at football by playing the infamous monk-soccer; serious students scurrying to and from the classes or lawns with books or leg-less plastic chairs, commonly referred to as lawn chairs; and, oh yes, the mojos and their girlfriends, walking arm in arm or standing in dark corners cuddling and kissing.

Hands in his pockets and eyes to the ground, he walked with a stoop. He did not want to stare at the couples. He wanted to prove to himself that he did not care. But he did.

What do these guys have that I don’t? He silently wondered. What enamors these girls of them?

Deep down his heart, he knew the answer: they were not too nice.

He chuckled to himself. It was said that girls liked bad guys. The evidence seemed to support this. Most of these guys were jackasses, ruffians, barely handsome and plain idiots. Yet, they had girls by their side.

The picture of Anna flashed in his mind. She was a pretty, principled girl. She had turned him down—as usual. Now she was going out with Edmond. He hated Edmond. He was a bad boy. He did not have much if any evidence about this, but he just knew, intuitively. Edmond was obnoxious, as dark as night, opinionated and head strong. But Edmond had the girl. And Edmond was a bad boy.

“Let us wait for a while and see how this works out, first.” A female voice said. The couple was standing behind the tree at the corner. He was approaching from the other side.

He stopped. He knew that voice.

“Marian. I love you. It’s just so easy to love you.” The guy said.

David shivered. He knew Marian. Too well. She was his best friend. He manoeuvered himself into a position where he could not be seen, behind the fence made from long, wooden planks, but within earshot. His heart was in his mouth.

“I think you are great too.”

Typical. He thought. The word love is scarcely on Marian’s lips.

He stared between the spaces in the fence and took a closer look at the guy. It wasn’t Edmond. But it was someone much much worse. He never knew the guy, but he had a gut feeling the guy was worse than Edmond. He was as dark as night. And he was big and muscular.

He cringed, and a horrified expression came to his face. The guy wrapped his arms around Marian and embraced her tightly. He lifted her off her feet and she hung to him passionately.

That’s my girl! Stay away from my woman, jackass! His mind was screaming, his body tense.

Marian giggled. “Oh, Daniel!”

Daniel. That name sounded familiar. But then again, it was a familiar name, wasn’t it?

Daniel planted his large mouth on hers. What followed next was a long, passionate kiss. He nearly fainted.

But then his mind played tricks on him. He was Daniel, and Marian was Naomi. Naomi was the first girl he ever truly loved, and the only girl who had allowed him to kiss her. And he still loved her. But she was gone. Forever.

He stumbled to his feet and fled.

A little while later, he was lying on his bed panting, his mind a whirl of confusion.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

“Come in!” he said in annoyance. I just want to be alone in my misery.

The door opened. It was Marian. She was looking wild, her eyes as wide as golf balls. David was stupefied.

“What the heck do you want here?” He found it in his good sense to say. He sat up on his bed, eyeing her derisively.

“David,” she moved forward tentatively. “It’s not want you think. Daniel—”

“Let me guess: he’s just a friend?”

She shook her head. “I love him.”

He suddenly fell back on his bed and laughed. He laughed so hard tears poured out of his eyes.

Marian was angered. “This is not funny.”

David shot to his feet. His laughter was gone. There was fire in his eyes. “No funny, eh?”

“No.” She turned her face away from his. He was sputtering.

“But it is funny when you can’t love me? It is funny when I can only be your best friend? It is funny when I can’t be your man? How is that funny? Talk to me, damn it!”

“No,” she held his hand. “It is not funny. But Daniel is a jackass. I can afford to lose him.”

David stared at her in shock. Why had he not seen it all along? In girl-world good guys never existed. If they did, it was always too good to be true. They were not for real. He was not for real.

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