FIRST KISS
Prompt - First Kiss : Write about your first kiss
It had happened, hadn't it? Sheila'd barely had time to register the moment, it was more in recall that she was able to remember. Once she'd gone up the path, gone into the house, talked to her parents, made a fuss of the cat and then, finally, gone up to her room was she able to rerun the images of what had taken place. And there it was, right at the end. Or almost the end, for there were words came after, from him, from her, and she could turn away. Even then he was still there, at the gate, when she turned in the doorway. He waved and set off along the road.
She wouldn't say it was memorable, not in the way she'd always hoped it might be. But it was a milestone, wasn't it? Your first kiss? Especially at her age. Most especially at her age.
Sheltered. That had been her life. Since she'd been diagnosed with diabetes at three. Her mother had been wonderful. Maybe too wonderful? How could she know? But her big sister, more 'normal' than she, had been allowed to do much as she wanted. Sport. Going out. Boys. But there had always been some reason, however contrived, why she shouldn't follow those examples. And she'd gone along with it because she was 'different'. Or at least she'd always been told she was. And why wouldn't she believe her mother?
So she lived her life vicariously through her sister, listening to her stories, encounters, hopes, disappointments, always wondering if one day they would become hers too. But it seemed so far fetched. She would just have to be content with being herself. The sister had married, left home, there was nobody left to feed her dreams. She didn't go out so she had no real friends. She didn't go out so she didn't meet boys - the men at her work were all about her father's age, protective and patronising. She wondered if any of them had desires for her, but none showed any sign of doing so. And she wouldn't have known what to do if they had...
She was allowed ('allowed'? At 22?) to join the local drama group. It was considered safe enough. Not far to walk on dark nights, all on well lit paths. Not a place where people got 'out of hand' as her father described it. Civilised people. And, to her relief and disappointment, so they were. Mostly women, only one of whom regularly got drunk. Her name was Val, and Sheila worshipped her. And couldn't tell anyone. The few men were either a lot older, often married to other members of the group, or mere teenagers. There was only one anywhere near her age and one of Val's first juicy titbits was that he was gay. The group was fun, but showed no sign of ever being exciting.
Then he arrived. And was immediately distinct from the others. Tall, not bad looking, late twenties, from somewhere up north. Seemed confident and shy at the same time. Looked at her a lot, but said little. He'd acted before, and wasn't too bad. The shortage of competent men in their twenties pushed into the lead role in his first production with them. Sheila had a small part as a maid in the home of the woman the man was wooing (it was an old play). The love interest was eighteen, beautiful, nearly as tall as he, and clearly interested in him. She knew she had no chance of making him interested in her, not against that sort of opposition.
But she was wrong. He found the eighteen year old pleasant enough, and physically attractive, but cold, reticent and poor company. More alarmingly, her parents were also in the group and the mother, possessed of a savage tongue at times, watched her girl closely.
One night after rehearsal she managed to leave at the same time as him. (Or did he leave at the same time as her?)
"Got far to go?"
"No. Only five minutes."
"Which way?"
"Down there, round Garforth Crescent." Her heart seemed to be sounding loud in her throat.
"Mind if I come round with you? It's not really out my way."
"OK."
And so he did. Only five minutes, not much said.
He did again the next night. And the next. The chat got a bit more interesting. She learned where he lived, what he did at work. The chats got longer which meant standing for a few minutes by her gate. A few minutes more each time. She daren't ask him in, the interrogations had already begun.
And then it happened.
"I'm going to see a band in Dornley on Friday night, fancy coming along?" He sounded nervous. She just about managed to hesitate before saying yes. He smiled. Closed in to give her a hug. She hugged back, trying to be firm enough to seem interested, not so firm she'd seem too interested. Old lessons. She looked up. He was a long way above her. Smiled, leaned down, kissed her. On the lips. Brief, but real, and undeniable. Not memorable, not really. It just sort of happened. Then he was pulling away, telling her what time he'd pick her up, saying good night. And she must have agreed and said goodnight. She walked up the path. Looked back. He smiled, gave a little wave, and walked away.
She had turned 24 a couple of weeks ago, celebrating with nobody but her parents. But now it had happened. There wasn't much to it, was there? It would get better, wouldn't it? She must call her sister tomorrow.
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