X Amount of Kisses

This is a short story I wrote for Creative Writing. Enjoy!

X Amount of Kisses

One: I take it all in. I savor every delight as it melts on my tongue.

Two: I nibble at the edges, and I roll it around in my mouth.

I open my eyes to peek at my phone, to see if I had missed your call. As I peel back the foil of another Hershey chocolate, I hold it up to my mouth, take a deep breath and place it perfectly passed my lips. If it had only been an hour, or even a day, I wouldn’t be sitting here, but it’s been a week…a week since you’ve called.

Four…five…

I called after the third day to see if you were okay…you told me you still needed time to think; that you just needed space. I bitterly gave you your wanted space as I cried and pondered ‘How much space can one have until they’re gone completely?’ I succumbed to desperation rapidly as I watched the minute hand pass onto every new hour. All the while here I have lingered, at the side of my phone, patiently anticipating the moment where the name I long to read finally appears on my Caller ID.

Eight…nine…ten…

I’m not even sure what happened between you and me; it was literally when you pick the petals of flowers: he loves me…he loves me not. I went out of town for a week and when I come back you won’t even look at me. You barely even acknowledge that I’m there by your side, as if I am merely your shadow. After questioning you of whether I had done or said something wrong, you gazed ahead and aloofly replied with ‘No. I gotta go, bye.’ I don’t think it would bother me as much if you’d just talk to me; if you’d open up and let me in that I could only understand how you feel. Clearly, that is not the case: I’m left in the dark…so I’m plummeting into the creamy kisses you gave me.

Twenty-two…twenty-three…

I didn’t intend on indulging in them so quickly; I was planning on saving them for a long time…I had no idea I would need them so soon. You told me just before I left as you handed me the bag, ‘These are for when you miss me. When you need me, just know that I’m only a kiss away’. My tear ducts flood at merely the memory; I shove my hand into the bag and take a fist full of your love. I press the side button on my phone to illuminate the screen; a tear plops onto it as the time sneers back at me. I frantically unwrap a few kisses and stuff them into my quivering mouth; I suck them down to slivers, only to swallow the lake of chocolate and feel it flood down my throat. I pick up my phone, close my eyes and hold it as close as I possibly can to my heart; if I can’t hold you, this is the next best thing. I take another kiss to chew as I lay my head down on the arm of my couch. I squeeze my eyelids together, in attempts to hold back the tears, but the salt puddles still find a way out.

Thirty eight…thirty nine…

I feel the vibrations and my heart goes wild; it throbs so violently it’s as if it’s trying to pound its way through my rib cage. It’s almost to the point of prophetic pain, but I know hearing your voice would be worth the agony. I quickly swallow your kisses as I open my phone to find it’s a text message. I can accept that…I’ll take anything I can get from you. I open the message only to find a forward from my best friend; one about sending it to twenty people who you’re lucky to have in your life. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture; it’s just not from the one I was hoping for. I want to send it to you so badly, but I do not wish to provoke you further; all I want is to stop having to wait. I only want to hear from you.

Forty-six…forty-seven…

With text messages on my mind, I go to my messaging history and search for your name. It shouldn’t be too hard to find; we’d always stay up late in the night texting each other. I see the name I long for and my thumbs pounce for the ‘View’ button. As I read the heart-felt words you sent me once upon a time, my ambiguous feelings flutter down inside me as flakes of ash. They choke me just the same, one fleck at a time. Clearly, it is far too bittersweet for me, and yet it seems I cannot stop. I relish and abhor every word, and I feel my heart trying to discern whether to flutter or to crumble; it finally makes up its mind.

Fifty-three…Fifty four…

My tears sluggishly trickle their way across the bridge of my nose to soak the arm I’m resting on. I blink and wipe away the tears that blur my vision in order to look around, in attempts to distract myself, if only for a small while. I curl up my legs into a casual fetal position as I drag the kisses into my comfortable reach. As I bask in another one of your kisses, my large, teary eyes glance around until they rest upon a single vase. On top of my bookshelf, next to my key hook, there sits a clear, glass vase with a pear-shaped bottom and a long, skinny neck. Propped up inside are the red roses that you gave me on our anniversary; I dried them so they’d last forever. I crack a smile as I remember that night: a picnic in the park, a long walk along the bike trail and dancing underneath the stars as you sang in my ear. You pulled the dozen out of your large wicker basket and presented them to me so flawlessly. I don’t know how you do it, but every step, every breath and every word is perfect; you are perfect.

Sixty-one…sixty-two…sixty-three…

You have this way with words where every syllable refreshes me; it takes away the pain, and that is what I really need from you right now. All I want is to hear your voice. We have never gone this long without communication, let alone interaction. Whenever we had an argument, you were always the one to call the very day, before I went to bed, telling me you couldn’t go to sleep knowing that you’ve hurt me. Why aren’t you assuring me of it now? What has changed? What have I done?

Sixty-seven…sixty-eight…

That’s all I need, love: to hear the truth of how you feel. I really don’t think I’m demanding much of you at all…I sit up as I eye my phone sorely and squeeze the side button to light up the screen; all I see is the time and notice that my battery is running low. I begin to lose hope. I drop my phone at my feet and soulfully cradle my head in my hands. I drag my fingers down my cheeks, only to find all of my smeared mascara in the palm of hands. I rest my chin on the black mess of my right hand as I strum my left hand on my thigh, thinking ‘what am I going to do’.

Seventy-five…seventy-six…

I strip the last kiss, I hold it by its tip and kiss the cone tenderly, then slip it onto my tongue, to savor the sweetness slower than I ever had before. I poke the phone’s button with my big toe to see the time, close my eyes, reach for the bag which once contained your love, and crumple it in my hands. I lethargically arise from the cushions and laggardly make my way to the kitchen to dispose of my trash. As I drop the compacted plastic in the small bin, it hits me all at once.

I just wasted all of my kisses on you.