Dear Little Jo,
Look. If you’re going to give a play-by-play of the whole thing in the park you can’t just stop at the exact moment where I come off looking like an asshole. Worse than an asshole—a psycho actually. My mouth saying one thing and my hands doing the exact opposite.
I mean I’m not saying you’re wrong about that particular moment. I was in some kind of fog. Panicking, if you want me to be completely honest. That expression on my face, that lockdown look you hate so much? If you ever see it again don’t take it so personally, Jo. It’s just panic.
I guess I’d better finish the scene for you. So you’re humiliated, as you said. Tears are starting up in your eyes. I’m hanging on to you so you can’t wriggle away. And you are wriggling, by the way, and you’re doing it right in my lap and it’s not exactly making my head any clearer.
Wait, is what I say to you. It sounds more like a growl than a word. Wait. Will you please give me one second to think?
You sort of freeze. You sit there staring at the ground past my elbow, pawing at your cheeks to wipe away the tears. It’s not perfect. I am aware it’s not perfect and that I’m being a total asshole to hold you there after flat-out rejecting you. But I also know that if I let go of you right at that moment it will be too late. You’ll never get near me again.
If I let it happen, I don’t know what’ll happen, I say.
Your eyes move to mine and then away. Right, you say. I could lose control and overpower you. You’re trying for a joke but it sounds more like misery.
No, I say. I mean me.
Your eyes meet mine, and it’s surprise in them now. You almost smile.
It makes me so jealous, Jo, that you’re not as terrified of this as I am. That you’re settled with it somehow. Not necessarily comfortable but settled. How about if I just kiss you, is what you’d suggested. Just like that.
I shake my fingers loose from your belt loops. Focus on trying not to react to the jostling this causes. The truth is I’m breathing pretty hard by now. My quads have started trembling. I flatten my thighs to the ground, trying to hide the trembling from you.
We could set a timer, you say.
What? I ask.
A timer. For, say, thirty seconds. Or twenty. Just for a limit, you know. For safety.
You give my shoulder a little pat. You say, Either way I’m getting off your lap, okay?
I am pretty sure you’re only kidding about the timer. I mean it’s an insane idea. But at least you’re not bolting away from me across the park or anything, so I just sit there while you arrange yourself on the grass beside me. On your knees facing me.
You’re not kidding though. We’ll have to find the right ring tone, you say. Crickets, or a dog bark, or something like that. Lyle’s phone has a banjo riff, but if you really, really hate this kiss, Kurl, it would operate like some kind of aversion therapy and you’ll end up hating bluegrass too. And I won’t be responsible for a tragedy like that.
You nudge my bicep. C’mon, give me your phone.
I don’t have a phone, I say.
You frown. You look around in the grass like you might find someone’s discarded phone conveniently lying nearby. Well, then, you say, maybe we can use a safe word. Have you heard of safe words? We could agree on a certain word, so that if either of us says it the other person knows everything has to stop.
By this point I’m barely listening. I can barely even hear you, the way my heartbeat is banging in my ears. I feel like every muscle in my body is flooded with waiting. Like I’m drowning in waiting.
How about mandolin, you say. Or last time round, like you say in a bluegrass jam. Or is that too complica—
You look at my face and cut yourself off mid-word. Then you lean in and lay your hand against my cheek and kiss me.
Well, you were there too, Jo. You know how it went. You came in lightly at first, like you were afraid I might bite you. Basically just brushing your lips over mine. You broke contact but stayed right there, so that the not-touching was part of the kiss too. Your eyes were open. You let out a soft shallow breath.
That’s what did it I think. The feel of your breath plus all that caution. When your lips touched mine again I opened my mouth and kissed you back for real. Until your eyes closed and you swayed and I steadied your shoulders with my hands.
Oh my goodness, you said, but still not pulling away. Just saying it into my mouth. Your breath not soft anymore but ragged. You’re good at this, Kurl.
I recognized that voice of yours. That turned-on, pitched-up voice from that time in my car. You said in your letter that your turned-on voice was whiny, but there was another word I liked better. Undone. That undone voice of yours.
By the way. No, I will not use the word stirring. I don’t care who used it in the nineteenth century or how baby monkeys in experiments behave. I mean it doesn’t even make sense. We’re just going to have to think of other ways to describe it.
I wasn’t completely crazy to worry what would happen though, was I? I mean it was a kiss but already it was more than that. My fingers in your hair but already sliding under your shirt, across your back. My tongue already in your mouth. Pressing deeper. My arms already around you tipping you off balance and turning you over onto the grass.
A word kept flashing in my head. One word, over and over, like a flashing neon sign. Lucky. I don’t know how to describe it, Jo. Lucky lucky lucky. My whole body wanted to crawl inside your whole body, just to share all this luckiness with you.
At that exact moment a dog barked right next to our heads. We sat up so fast that your forehead smashed into my mouth.
It was a black lab puppy, barking like a maniac. Charging at us and leaping back, trying to get us to play.
Walter! Walter, come! this woman yelled, and ran up and grabbed the dog. She hooked the leash onto his collar. Sorry, she said. I’m so sorry about that.
They were gone before we could say anything.
Are you okay? you asked.
I checked my lip where your head had hit. No blood, I said.
No, I mean in general, you said.
I’m good, I said. I feel kind of amazing actually.
You laughed. Did you hear that? you said. Can you believe it? That dog’s name was Walt!
Sincerely,
AK