The Kiss
Have you ever kissed someone in the rain?
I saw the text.
And saw it disappear within 2 seconds.
Pretty damn quick.
But long enough to ignite an almighty fire in my raging loins, nonetheless.
Act I: 6pm, Saturday 24th
“Raining there too?”, I asked Qomilla as I sent her a video of my lawn drunk-dancing in the rains. I’d shot it last year. Hot girl to text or not, I’d always loved rain.
“Yep”, she texted back and sent me one too, probably reciprocating the ethic.
Hers included a shot from her balcony — puddles down in the street and a stuck traffic. Could have been last year too, who knew, but the chronological accuracy of the case was the last thing that hit my mind. What hit it instead — was legs.
Legs — long, slender, with sleeping shorts. Legs, as she maneuvered her camera in her hands, leaving the room through her French window.
And that put the gasoline on fire.
I talked the small talk a bit more and told her I was coming to see her.
“What do I wear?”, she asked.
“Anything”, I told her.
“Okay, I ain’t bothering with a dress then.”
“Sweet. Your dress would thank you for it.”
The streets were wet. Overcast skies and clouds — grey and menacing — held the world hostage.
It could all come down any moment, I thought. I’d be soaking wet, waiting for a girl who may never arrive, in the middle of nowhere, with frantic calls from my family.
Fuck it, I put the bike into gear.
I sat on the roundel outside the Metro, waiting, trying to look cool. I’d already paid my customary visit to the washroom and checked on my hair. The moist air had screwed it up a little. My handkerchief helped it dry.
I had a PoloX T-shirt with black jeans on trek shoes. I’d seen envious eyes on me in the mirror. Always a good omen, that. Groovy.
She’d been 20 minutes late. I didn’t mind. I loved the rain almost as much as females. I liked the promise both of them possessed, even if they didn’t show up.
But this girl seemed nice. Texting me images of street food to keep me occupied, kinda apologetic for being late.
Another wave of crowd came out the gates. We had agreed to meet on gate 4.
My phone buzzed, “How would I find you when I see you?”.
I scouted a little and found a girl’s searching eyes on her phone amidst the crowd. Then, she looked up and around. Had to be her.
“Just turn around”, I texted back.
She did a 180; now facing the road.
“Do it again.”
She turned again, searching in all directions now.
“Keep doing it”, I said and sent her a laughing emoji. Then, I got up towards her.
She recognized me when I was about a couple of paces from her.
“Who does this sort of a thing?”
She wore glasses, a dark blue flannel shirt and long flared pajamas. She wasn’t kidding about not bothering with a dress.
“Hello, Qomilla”, I smiled and offered my hand to her.
We shook hands.
Act II: 10 pm, Saturday 24th
It was 9 when she had finally arrived and we had to get back by 11. Dropping a girl off immediately after shaking her hand seemed the most crazy and rational idea at the same time. But we hopped on.
We kept coming across trenches of dark water on the roads and angry black clouds in the skies. We talked about stupid things like careers. It wasn’t even 20 minutes into the ride when the heavens opened up again and sheets of rains attacked us from all sides. I saw a shade and parked.
Classic.
We sat on a bench. Frantic vehicles passed us from right to left. Subconsciously, I kept getting a connubial vibe from all of this. A kind of de ja bae. As if I had done exactly all of this a long time ago.
I took out my kerchief and thought about offering it to her. I looked at her. She had taken off her glasses. Semi-curly strands of brunette locks hid half her face from me. Her face took me to a strange world of Gothic mansions.
“Have you ever kissed someone in the rain?”, I said after a long time.
“Sorry?”, she feigned ignorance after a few moments.
Another eloquent silence followed. I could feel her nerves beside me.
She saw me staring at her and very slowly I withdrew my gaze.
“You were saying that time…”, she asked after what seemed an eternity.
“Sorry?”, my turn to feign ignorance. I knew exactly what time. But all of a sudden, I was thinking about a long long time ago.
We were inside a small cafe. I ordered coffee. When I turned back from the counter, I saw her taking pictures of the cafe wall filled with some kind of graffiti they call modern art. None of my business. I offered a smile. She smiled back.
I sat down with the coffee, checked my phone, and saw 15 missed calls from all directions. Mostly home, couple from friends I hadn’t seen in a long time, and three from Libby. Mom had freaked out again, apparently.
I calculated the fastest route to maximum impact and decided to call Libby.
“Where the fuck are you?”, an angry growl from the other side.
“Listen, I got stuck in the rain.”
“I bet you did. When are you planning to get unstuck?”
“Not soon. Did Mom call my friends?”
“Yes. And your ‘friends’ called me, I don't know why.”
“Sweet. Just tell them to tell my Mom I’m okay, won’t you, sweetheart?”
“Won’t you sweetheart”, she mimed. “Assho —”
“Thanks”, I cut her off.
We were on the bike again.
“How long will it take you to get back?”, she screamed against the breeze. “I guess it was an awful idea to meet today.”
“Don’t bother. 40 minutes give or take. Just hope we get you home first. Hungry?”
“I am okay.”
We finally reached her home half an hour shy of 12. She stayed as a paying guest down a reticent street from the main road. I dropped her off on the cut.
“Well…”, she got off.
“Well…”, I agreed. “That was not quite the adventure one could have hoped for, was it?”
She smiled.
I gave her a customary nod and she started to turn to her house. I watched her silhouette slowly disappear into the obscurity of the night.
And I thought of Camilla.
She was only a few paces from her home when she heard my call. Surprise on her face.
“You forgot this”, I said and gestured with an open hand. She looked at the hand with searching quizzical eyes. Too self-conscious to believe there was nothing there.
I kept her gaze with my hand for a little while. And then, slowly, I unlocked a brown curl from across her face…
Underneath the starry night and clouds heavy with anticipation, I kissed her lips; her hands motionless beside her as I devoured the misty fragrance and the moist contortions of her mouth. I found her tongue with mine and delicately locked her upper lip, holding her small face with my hands all the while.
Act III: 3pm, Saturday 24th
A faithless promise of rain beckoned me to my balcony. I called it a day for work and decided to read Camilla. Gothic mansions, bloodthirsty vampires, passionate lesbians in embrace… one wet dream from cover to cover.
But halfway through the story, I had a hunch.
A subconscious itch I knew I had to scratch…
I had met Qomila at a party.
A week later, I sat in another party, semi-drunk, looking at a girl that reminded me of some rich man’s daughter — clad completely in white, tanned complexion, ignored by her male friend or whoever the faggot was that sat beside her too afraid to look her in the eye.
God offers men with strange scenarios and even stranger women, I thought. Half a minute later, the girl in white stood up and left the bar. A couple-three beta wolves followed her only to stop and tie their shoelaces in case she turned around, I was cocksure. I would have made a move but there was something else on my mind.
Someone else.
I opened up my messenger.
“Howz your weekend going?”, I texted and shared a half-empty beer jug in front of me, immediately regretting afterwards — like I do with half my actions. Too many halves on my mind. If only I could fall in love with half the intensity.
Looking out the incessant splattering through window, I played all of this in my mind again. Market research. You gotta catch them ‘where they are at’.
I opened my messenger and typed Q.
This time, I sent her a video of my lawn. The bushes dancing wildly in the rain.
Little more back and forth and I was contemplating meeting her. 6 pm already, truck load of traffic on the roads, she lived on the other side of the moon, and I didn’t quite want to leave Camilla. The archetypal Camilla.
I was thinking all this when it happened:
I saw the text come in.
And saw it disappear within 2 seconds.
Pretty quick.
But not before it ignited an almighty fire in my raging loins —
“Have you ever kissed someone in the rain?”
