FIRST KISS

I was contented in my solitude and independence then. The sea was very dear to my unsociable heart. The stranger found me idling on the shore breathing in the delicious sea wind. He told me his name was Pepe and he wanted to be a friend. He wore the oddest clothes and spoke in a very weird manner. This peculiar young man was unlike any boys I met. He had a passion for literature. He would spend his day with me strolling along the shore, as I listen to him narrate tales of adventures from heroes he considered friends. Often during afternoons, we sit on the rocky ledges weaving stories of our own. I believed Pepe when he said he liked my company.

“I‘d love to make you have a pleasanter time because of me… to have some little joy or happy thought that would never have existed if I hadn’t been born.”

“I believe you’re fulfilling that every day”  said Pepe admiringly.

I grew fond of him as time went by however, his stories grew somber too. One afternoon as we were sitting on the shore, he rose up regrettably and said he would have to leave by the morning and he was uncertain of his return. I felt my heart waxing soft within me. A flood of real remorse rolled like sea waves over my warm little heart and engulfed it. I tried to look into him but saw nothing. Everything was pitch-black. In my mind he must be very tall and distinguished looking, with melancholic inscrutable eyes, and a melting sympathetic voice. I retreated to my position, defeated. We sat idly on the shore for minutes. I never felt so severely alone before. He held my hands tightly, he probably read my thoughts.  There are things in this world I do not care to understand. I could not take it any longer and passion spat out of my lips.

“I love you”

There was an ache in my voice. His lips found its way unto me. It was subtle, almost fragile. I never felt him so breakable. No matter, I was drinking the loveliness in. Our lips parted gently.

My thoughts felt as if they had been all stirred up until they were thick and muddy. I searched for his face, my fingers lightly tracing the shape of his lips.

“Can you stay with me for a while, at least?”

He smiled under my fingertips.

“For you, I will.”

He whispered so his voice wouldn’t have the chance to break. If I thought he was bluffing, he might think I’ll be disappointed; but I knew him well. He let out a heave of sigh as he leaned down and pressed his delicate lips on my forehead. It stayed there for a moment. I could feel him breathe. He slowly withdrew and moved closer to me.

That was the last afternoon I spent with Pepe. I never heard of him since then.

I never lost hope of meeting him again. I still believed that one day, I’ll be able to see and recognize him. I did not leave the house near the sea. On afternoons, I would sit on the shore and reminisce with the tides.

A lot of things happened during 15 years of waiting. I fell in love again and married. I had two daughters, daughters I never saw. My husband is a good man and I love him but I would never forget the kind young man who had been the first to give me love and sympathy my starved heart had craved.

I still believed he would return, even if it’s just to catch up with things and to hear him tell stories of new adventures and hopefully his own.

Several years passed and time slowly stole my youth. Soon, I accepted the truth that able to meet him again was impossible. I fancied every memory we had, each delicious moment. I took the chance to share it with my husband. He sympathized with me, how lucky I must be. He took the effort to search for Pepe, to make correspondence with him. It took him months to gather information about Pepe. Fortunately, providence was on our favor.

My husband went home carrying with him two large books. I asked him what it was and said it was by Pepe. Even though I cannot see him, I knew he looked affronted.

“Tell me Anton, what has happened to him?”

My voice was shaking.

That day I learned that he had died and become one of the heroes from his books. I cried on the shore that day. There are so many unpleasant things in this world already that there is no use in adding to it anymore. My husband read to me the books by Pepe. Every word, every tenses and every characters were an echo of him.

Although he had gone forever, I remembered what he had said to me once.

“We live as long as we are remembered.”

He lives as long as I remember.