Forgotten First Kiss

She took it, but this time, she was the one to hold on a little longer. Our hands remained suspended over the table until the flame of the candle grew too hot on our wrists.

“Thanks, Jeremy.” As if she were the one benefiting from the bargain. “You’re really something special. I don’t know how I’d manage this weird period of my life without you.”

What about the rest of your life? Consider managing the rest of it with me, eh? “What ingredients did you have your mom purchase?”

We talked cooking, recipes, methods, and skills for a while.

“Seriously? I never knew there was a no metal spoons in the Teflon pan rule. Or such a thing as a silicone muffin pan. So that’s how people get them out of the pans intact.” She shook her head. “What is this dark magic?”

We finished dinner, and she loaded Aunt June’s dishwasher while I scooped ice cream into cones.

“Let’s go for a walk.” She pulled my cone-free hand toward the front door.

A walk sounded fine to me, considering Aunt June had the TV volume set to deafening, and the night was still warm.

Our steps crunched along the gravel drive, but we soon came to the well-worn sidewalk. The tree-lined street featured a few older houses and some large, empty lots filled with yellowing late-summer grasses. The moon gave us most of our light, but we passed beneath streetlights now and then.

As we walked, Danica told me about the welcome back party at the gym, how weird she felt there not recognizing any of the kids. She also made the occasional comment about the town. “It’s strange to walk down this street, and to know that somewhere in my brain is locked the history of the people who live here or there, and yet be unable to access it from the recesses of my mind. Instead, I’m stuck inventing histories for everyone.”

“Such as?” I pointed to a two-story brick home with Victorian accents. “What about this house? Who lives here?”

She paused our walk, and I waited beside her. After a thoughtful moment, she said, “That used to have a large family in it, but a cranky old man with too many cats bought it a few years ago. He tells the trick-or-treaters to stay off his lawn.”

She pivoted and pointed next to a ranch-style house with hot pink siding. “And that’s where the school librarian lives. She has a puppy for whom she calls a sitter anytime she has to be in school. Her dream is to buy an RV and drive up the coastal highway next summer.”

We resumed our walk.

“That’s a good dream.” My upper arm tingled as her shoulder bumped against mine. Then, she was leaning on me, and then, she’d slipped her arm through my elbow, linking us together. Maybe it was merely for steadiness on the uneven concrete of the aging sidewalk. I wasn’t complaining. “What other histories have you invented? Anything about people in your life?”

“Just about you.”

I caught myself from gasping. “Is that so?” I managed to say with a careless air. “Lay it on me.”

“Oh, I don’t think I should.”

Neither did I, but suddenly, I was half feline—ready to be killed by my curiosity. “Fine. If you’re too shy about it.”

She gripped my arm tighter. “It’s not that. It’s …”

“No, it’s fine.” I waved it away, despite dying inside to know. “But if it would make you feel better, you can tell me a tiny aspect of it.”

Danica kept walking, and she didn’t say anything until we’d passed three houses. Then, she said softly, “You and I dated. In high school. We were each other’s ideal match, but one of us got scared. Or there was a misunderstanding. We broke up, and you left Wilder River. I’ve never gotten over you, and that’s why I never found anyone to marry. Your heart never let me go, and that’s why you’re here now.”

Lava surged through my veins. My heart thundered like the bass drum in a Fourth of July marching band. “That’s what you think?”

“No. It’s what I invented. One of the scenarios.”

“There are other scenarios?”

“Yeah, but they involve covert ops, submarines, alien life forms, or way too much bubblegum.”

“I can see why you’d land on that first one to share with me.”

“How close am I?” She stopped walking and turned to face me.

We stood beneath a streetlight, with the night insects swirling above us and a nighthawk swooping to get its evening feast.

“Some things aren’t too far off.” Like the part where she’d never left my heart. “Others, not even close.”