Chapter 1

“Happy New Year! Who wants to have the first kiss of 2155?”

The screen mocked Welshur as he sat in his living room on the pink, floral couch which once belonged to his grandmother. While ebullience was personified through drunken kisses and dehydrated screams in the heart of Time Square, a welling darkness loomed in his heart.

“That’s right. Happy f*cking new year.”

“Wels,” Mari, his wife, interrupted, “you’re drunk. Let’s get you to bed.”

She reached out and held her sorrowed husband in her arms, humming him sweet tunes to ease his stirred mind. She took her soft hands and with them combed his thick, black hair away from his eyes, then removed the few drops of Brandy left in his grasp. Although she hated seeing him so disconnected, especially during these past few months, her love for him had not faded. He was her everything.

“No,” said Welshur, “I’m not ready to sleep just yet.” He fixated his rose gold eyes onto Mari. “It’s my birthday, you know?”

“Yes, I know Wels,” Mari replied tauntingly. “And you seem to have a reoccurring theme of spending your birthdays kissing glass bottles instead of your own wife.” A few giggles escaped through her pursed lips.

“Oh, is that so Mrs. Miste?” A sly smile ran across his face, absolving the pain that was there just seconds before. “It’s not my fault that the glass bottles kiss better than her.”

“I think Daxter would disagree with that, Mr. Miste. He is quite fond of my kisses. Every time I leave for work he will beg and beg for me to bend down for a kiss, and if he’s lucky, a belly rub. So, I tell you, Mr. Miste, I am not only an experienced kisser, but a damn good one as well.”

“Daxter!” Commanded Wels. “Come here puppy!”

In a few moments, a stout silver dog ran into the room and jumped onto Welshur’s lap. Daxter’s eyes sparked with an intense sapphire ferocity as he gazed into his owner’s eyes.

“Good puppy. Now give daddy a kiss.” Wels stuck his liquored face into Daxter’s snout, and indulgently the pup began to lick the young man’s lips. “See honey? Looks like Daxter hasn’t been as faithful as my own glass bottles.”

Responsively, Mari took the Brandy bottle and drained what little drops were left, finishing her dared kiss with a satisfied exhale. “Well, Mr. Miste,” she playfully spat back, “it appears Brandy is just as guilty.”

Laughter broke out from both lover’s mouths as Daxter barked excitedly at the change in mood. The laughter transitioned from a steady snicker to an uncontrollable, inaudible beast tickling and constricting within their stomachs. Mari threw herself onto her husband and together their laughter harmonized as the warmth between them married. Wels traced his fingers from Mari’s stomach upwards, feeding the laughter the higher he grazed. But when his hand stopped on her face, their laughter came to a sudden halt. They stopped, and together looked deep into the realms of each other eyes, gazing at something so foreign.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve laughed like that,” said Mari.

“Blame it on the new year, or my birthday. Up to you.”

She grabbed his hand and rested her head on his beating chest.

“Do you remember our first kiss?” She asked.

“Do I remember,” he laughed. “More like do I remember the black-eye you gave me afterwards.”

“You were asking for it. I mean, who kisses the girl on the first date? A rapist, or maybe even a serial killer—that’s who.”

“But pleasantly, I am neither a rapist nor a serial killer.”

“No, sadly not. That would have been much more exciting. Now all I have is some big, caring oaf who sometimes surprises me with banana bread in the morning.”

“Is that a hint?”

Mari shrugged, a burrowed her face deeper into Welshur.

“You know I love you, right?” he said.

“Yes, I know.”

Silence crept back into the room, only being interrupted by the two beating hearts of the couple. As time exhausted, Mari’s eyes closed until she rested peacefully on her husband’s chest. Wels continued to run his fingers through her burgundy hair and tracing the ridges and bumps on her back. He sat there for however long just listening; listening to her soft breath sing to him. In that moment he had never felt so at peace. All the turmoil and burrowed pain he had been masking from her only shot deeper within, and for now he only focused on his best friend in which he called wife. For the first time in years, tears of purity and joy rushed down his cheeks as he envisioned hope for her future and for her life—he knew what he needed to do to ensure that. His head bent down and began to lightly kiss her forehead. And with each kiss he took in the smell of jasmine, sending chills all throughout his body.

In reaction to the sudden change, Mari awoke and realized her husband’s tears. She fearfully asked,

“Honey. Are the demons back?”

He smiled. “No Mars. No demons. It’s just—I’m just—” But Wels never finished his sentence. Instead of stumbling on his words, he sat up and embraced his wife with a kiss full of passion and meaning. All he was thinking, every thought and emotion, was transcribed through that kiss. He lifted his hand to her face, and slowly descended to the buttons of her shirt—she grabbed his palm.

“Welshur. It’s been two years. I can’t—we can’t go through the same pain again. Are you sure you—”

But again, Wels placed another inscribed kiss on her lips, but only this time he didn’t stop speaking.

That night, as they reconnected in a way which once frightened them both, their naked spirits danced together under the stars. And through the pain expressed, the love shared, and the memories forgotten, a new beginning was born.

Comments