The Kiss

Janice slumbered away in a very non-traditional sense. She didn't sleep. Not at all, but she did tend to miss out on life, on happiness, on her heart's desire. She lived each day as it came, making plans for tomorrow as each of us does. Calendars and appointments were kept. Mundane tasks were scheduled and followed through on. And Janice lived, always wondering deep in the back of her mind if something was missing from her life. Sometimes this feeling nagged at her, and others, it was barely a whisper.

She was in her mid-thirties on that December day when the whisper finally grew to a scream. She tried desperately to shut the scream off, but to her dismay, nothing she could do would muffle it or tone it down it all. Finally, she tuned in to what the scream was saying, and she realized how alone she was.

Alone. Now there was a concept Janice really was not ready to face. She lived a full life. She had an active love life and dated regularly even though there was not a specific man who stood out as the "one." She had a fulfilling occupation which kept her busy and allowed her to travel often. Her travels let her see the world, and usually, it was on someone else's budget. She was financially sound, and she wanted for nothing. She owned a lovely condo which was furnished and decorated specifically to her tastes. Everything in her life was perfect. Except that she had just realized she was totally, completely....alone.

Having acknowledged the screams, Janice thought they would abate. They didn't. Instead, they began to scream another message. And, again, Janice tried everything to tune them out. In her efforts to do so, she stumbled into a local neighborhood bar. She slid onto a stool at the bar hoping that she would be ignored and ordered a vodka martini. She shifted and glanced about the bar, studying the patrons as they milled about playing pool and darts. She turned as her drink was placed in front of her, and looked up at the bartender for the first time.

He was tall with dark hair and bright, blue-grey eyes. He wasn't overly handsome, but he wasn't ugly either. He was simple and plain. He smiled then, transforming his face, brightening his eyes, and Janice hesitantly smiled back. "Thank you."

She sipped the martini and returned her attention back to the bar, but found herself glancing back to the bartender working quietly up and down the length of the bar. Soon, she found her glass empty. Before she could order another, she looked up to find a replacement on the bar. She looked up at him, and he winked in response to her mouthed thanks. Suddenly she felt flushed, but she blamed it on the alcohol she had just consumed.

Two hours and three more drinks later, Janice was more than tipsy. The bartender slid her credit card across the bar along with her receipt and informed her he had already called a cab for her. "Bar policy," he stated. She blushed profusely and waited patiently for the cab to arrive. Once it did, she walked out and vowed to not return again.

The following week, she returned, and settled back at the bar. A martini appeared before her before she was able to order. She looked up and the bartender smiled at her. "Welcome back!" He shuffled on to the next customer, and instead of focusing on the other patrons, she watched him work. It was a relatively quiet evening, and he would pause frequently to smile at her. Finally, a major lull hit, and he returned to stand in front of her.

"You're not drinking tonight?" he asked as he glanced at her half empty glass. Janice glanced down and noted she'd only been idly sipping her drink in comparison to last week. "Was it not mixed right?" he asked.

"No, it was fine." Janice responded quickly. She realized she'd returned not to drink, but because she was attracted to the bartender. She blushed and lowered her eyes. "I just guess it's not what I really wanted tonight is all."

"Oh. Okay. So, you're new in here. What's your name?" He asked.

She lifted her eyes to meet his and smiled softly in response, "Janice. And yours?"

"Mark and he held out his hand for a friendly shake. As she placed her small hand in his, she felt dwarfed and small. There was almost an electric jolt that traveled through them both, and they reacted simultaneously, yanking their hands back quickly.

They studied each other, separated by the bar. Janice's eyes clouded in confusion as she tried to place the sudden eerie feeling she knew Mark from somewhere else. Mark shuffled from one foot to the other as he allowed his gaze to travel the length of the bar hoping for another patron to help. As his gaze came to rest back on Janice, he gulped against the lump in his throat. It couldn't be, it just couldn't. At that moment, a man stepped up to the bar and motioned to him, and he thankfully stepped away to assist him. Janice watched him, confused and bewildered by the feeling of de ja vu she just had.

Several weeks before Mark had had a car accident. A very serious car accident, to be exact. He had narrowly escaped with minor injuries, but he had been forced to spend two days in the hospital as a result for observation. He had been knocked unconscious during the accident. While he'd been unconscious, he had had a very strange dream about a brown haired, blue eyed woman. It was all he could remember about her, except her touch. He remembered her touch. She had held him, touched him while he had been unconscious. And she had kissed him. It was the kiss that had awakened him from his sleep. It was soft, sensual. It had seared his soul. He would never forget her. She was his angel. He had tried to explain this to someone, but they had laughed at him and said it was just his imagination. Yet tonight, when Janice had reached out and touched him to shake hands, it was her. Her touch. He would know it anywhere.

Part of him wanted to kiss her, know her in so many more ways. And the other part of him wanted to shrink back in fear. At the moment, the coward in him was winning. She was sitting at the bar with an empty glass, and he was doing a wonderful job of ignoring that fact, just so that he could avoid possibly touching her. He knew she had felt something too. That jolt of recognition was too strong not to have been noticed. He just wondered if she knew where it emanated from as well.

Janice sat, glass empty, unmoving...stunned. His touch reverberated up and down her arm. Her skin felt burned, but it was unmarked. Her mind traveled, worked, and raced in its effort to sort out where the feeling of recognition came from. It was futile. She could not recall. But she knew him, and she knew that she knew him intimately. She turned her head and watched him struggling with the glasses down the bar.

Their touch had affected him as well. It was obvious. He was having difficulty concentrating. She studied his movements, hoping that something would set off a memory, remind her of where and how she knew him. How could she forget something like this? She struggled and fought against that thought. Intimacy was not something she doled out carelessly, and she remembered her dates...ALL of them. She sighed heavily. Still she sat, glass empty. He never returned to her seat to refill it.

The minutes ticked into hours, and last call rang out. Janice still sat, waiting and watching as he continued to struggle through his shift. Mark was overly aware of her presence and avoided her curious glances and blantant stares as much as possible. Finally, it was closing time. The bar emptied and he exhaled and turned thinking she would be gone. Janice sat there. Waiting.

Mark stood, his heart thundering in his chest, feet frozen to the floor, looking at Janice. She sat in the same place he had left her. Her empty glass still graced the bar from hours ago, and he suddenly felt guilty for neglecting her as a patron of the bar. It was enough to nudge him forward. "You're still here?"

"Yes," Janice half sighed. She watched as he moved towards her and gathered her glass. She reached out and settled her fingers lightly over his hand, and the both froze as the bolt of recognition raced over their senses yet again. "Do you feel that?" she whispered hoarsely.

Mark replied softly, knees almost weak, "Yes."

"What is it?" she asked incredulously.

Mark shook his head. She didn't know the source. Maybe it was a dream. "I don't know," he lied and kept his eyes riveted on their touching hands.

Janice looked up at his face and read the confusion there on his features. She acknowledged that he knew more than he was admitting. She slid her hands up over his wrist, his arm, past his shoulder, to finally rest along his cheek. When her fingers stopped, he raised his eyes to hers, and when their gazes met, she gasped softly. What she saw there was pain and sorrow mingled with such hope. It took her breath away.

Her hand remained frozen, resting softly against his jaw. Mark stayed where he was, his jaw in her small soft hand. His mind drifted back in time to the moment when he first learned of her touch. It was the softness, the tenderness that had comforted him, held him in this world. He snapped his mind back and focused his eyes on her confused face. "Janice?"

She startled then and drew her fingers along his face. Her fingertips lipped over his lips, and again she felt the jolt of electricity travel through her body. She froze with his lips against her fingers, and she slid her tongue over her dry lips. He took a slow step back in an definate effort to break the contact. Memories of the night she kissed him haunted him like an echo in a dark empty hallway. He reached and poured Janice a glass of water. "It'll take me about forty-five minutes to close down. Then I can walk you home."

All Janice could manage was a confused nod in response. She accepted the glass of water and took a long, slow sip. Mark busied himself in getting things shut down for the night. Finally, as he had promised, forty-five minutes later he had finished cleaning up and shutting down the bar. He gathered his jacket and shut out the lights, and came around the bar. He helped Janice put on her jacket.

Slowly, they walked out of the door, and stepped outside. Janice waited while he locked the door and then he turned. They walked slowly in the direction of Janice's condo several blocks away, and they began to talk. Mark reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. They talked amiably about each others lives, and they enjoyed each other's company. Finally, they reached Janice's front door.

Janice’s hand was still twined lightly in his as he drew her slowly into a soft embrace. He rested his head lightly on top of hers and breathed in her scent. He let his eyes close as he was taken back to the last time she had held him, and he wondered at how she could possibly have forgotten it. Maybe he had just dreamed it all.

She nestled into his arms and slide hers around his waist. She was comfortable here. It was familiar and warm. Being here was familiar, like sliding into an old pair of faded jeans. She liked it here, but she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling she had been here before. That bothered her a lot, and it forced her to hold back. Suddenly, his voice broke through her thoughts as he began to pull away.

“I hope you come back to the bar soon.” He turned and walked away. She watched him disappear back the way they had came. When he was out of site, she turned and let herself into her condo and readied herself for bed. Suddenly, she was exhausted. She climbed into her large empty bed and laid her head on her pillow and pulled the thick downy comforter up over her body. Her last waking thoughts as she drifted off into a deep sleep were of Mark walking off into the night.

It was dusk and she had just finished her evening run. She was standing, as she
always stood at the river’s edge just at the bridge of 42nd and Collier. It was one
of the busiest intersections in the city. Mother Nature was really putting on a
show tonite. Darkness was creeping in, but the sunset was lingering with hues of
reds, yellows, oranges and pinks still painting the sky over the river and the
skyline.

This was her daily routine. Her run along the river’s edge and then to
stand here and relax, regroup. Behind her the city bustled. Traffic flowed,
stopped, honked, moved busily along the streets and the intersection was always
buzzing with movement. Yet, she could turn her back, face the river, and be lost
in a tranquil place. The soft current of the water’s movement always brought her
a peaceful, simple feeling. It was fall now and the colors of the trees around her
painted the world, making it surreal. It was her daily escape from reality.

The sudden screech of tires and the crush of metal drew her attention. Another
accident. There was always an accident at this corner. But something drew her
to the scene this time. She ran to the corner to join the bystanders to look at the
carnage, but found she couldn’t just idly look on this time. There, laying half in,
half out of a while Honda Accord was a man. He was a large man and his face
was bloody.

She approached him as he was conscious and no one seemed to be helping him.
He was obviously in much pain, and she called out for someone to do the
obvious, call 911. She spoke to him and calmed the panic written in his blue-grey
eyes. She reached for him and slid her arms around his shoulders, holding him
up, supporting his upper body from the awkward angle he was at. He was heavy
and his frame was solid.

Her fingers stroked along his forehead, and she spoke softly to him. She tried to
soothe him, calm him as she feared for his injuries. His eyes closed and she
thought the worst yet she held on to this man. He was still warm. Her fingers
still caressed his head, his shoulders as if her touch could heal his injuries. And
when it seemed the ambulance would never arrive, her eyes filled with frustrated
tears and she lowered her head.

She pressed her warm mouth to his and kissed him slowly. It wasn’t a passionate
kiss, but one of hope. Warmth spread from her lips to his. And his eyes sprung
open, settling on hers. Suddenly there was a flurry of movement behind her as
the emergency service people arrived and pried him from her arms.


Janice sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for her own breath. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. Wasn’t it?


Two days later, still troubled by the dream, Janice returned to the bar. She slid back onto the stool that she had occupied a few evenings before. Mark watched her arrive from the other end of the bar. He finished serving the patrons there, and then made his way to her. “Your martini or do you need something else tonight, Janice?” he asked.

She brought her eyes to his and asked for a diet soda. He nodded and poured her request. “Are you closing again tonight?” she asked.

“No. I’m off at eleven,” Mark replied. “Want to grab a coffee after?”

Janice glanced at the clock on the wall. It was ten o’clock now. “Yes, please,” she said. Mark reached out then and touched her hand. There was no shock racing between them now. He smiled gently, squeezed her hand, and turned back to finish his shift. She watched him work as she sipped her drink. Finally, shift over; it was time to head off for the promised coffee date.

They ordered and settled into a quiet intimate table off in a corner of the shop. He reached across the table and gathered his hand in hers and looked at her. They spoke at once, “This is weird.” They both laughed nervously.

Janice went first and told him about her dream. Explained in vivid detail what she had dreamed, from the type of car to the injuries he had suffered. She reached out to trace where there should have been a scar along the side of his face, but noted there was none. She sighed softly in frustration. She told him that she didn’t run either. “But I knew the instant you touched me that I knew you.”

Mark went next, explaining he had been in an accident a few weeks before. He had been knocked unconscious, but had experienced no other major injuries. While he was unconscious, he had dreamed of her. He had dreamed she had held him, touched him, and when she had kissed him, he had awakened. “It was if you were my guardian angel. I tried to tell my brother about you, but he told me I was crazy. And then you just showed up at the bar.”

They sat quietly together, not knowing what to say next. Their hands were still clasped together when, finally, Janice spoke. “Have you noticed that we don’t feel that weird shocking feeling when we touch anymore?”

Mark thought a few moments. “You’re right.”

“I wonder what that means,” Janice said. She looked up at Mark then, and she suddenly felt like she did the moment she did right before she kissed him in her dream. Her heart was lodged in her throat, her head was spinning. She felt panic.

Mark dropped her hand and brought his fingers to her face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Janice leaned, stretching over the table and pressed her lips to his. He inhaled slowly and slid his hand from her cheek to curl around to the back of her head, drawing her closer. Their tongues twisted and twined and danced. They twirled and waltzed and then finally parted, leaving them both breathless. Their eyes met and they studied each other for a few moments and then they both smiled a long slow smile.

“Maybe we’re both each other’s angels,” Mark said. “Maybe we’re not meant to understand this. Maybe it’s just fate."