Assignment: Looking through the Microscope- the first real kiss
I was sitting on the edge of Ellen’s bed with my heart beating, fast. Her bedspread was white, she had some pink things in her room but not as many as most girls I was friends with in seventh grade. It had more white, stronger looking stuff with heavier wood. I do not recall what was heavy or what it looked like, I just remember heavy wood and white. Nothing frilly or dainty for Ellen. She was a strong girl both physically, I am sure she could beat me up, and mentally; no one would mess with her, especially after she pinched Steven in the noise when he tried to grab her ass waiting for the bus one day. Her slanted brown eyes at times made her look at least part Asian but she was not; Ellen was a Jewish girl but not like the other Jewish girls in town. She did not wear make up, go shopping, whine or ever say with that New York accent in suburban Jersey, “Oh my God, you wouldn’t believe what…”. No, Ellen was a beautiful girl with a thin body and still part of the itty-bitty-titty-committee but tough as nails. I never could figure out why we were together about to make out. I was not her type. She usually picked the studs in training, not the weirdoes like me. But Ellen was a revolutionary before she even knew what that meant. She could have been a famous feminist if she had enough respect for most women, but without ever saying it, Ellen frowned upon girls who get all dressed and changed the way they looked just so boys would like them. You cold smell her disdain for their low opinion of themselves and their actions. Especially the little Jewish American Princess types. But here we were in her bedroom on Saturday late afternoon while her mother was not home. I do not know if she had a father, she said when we ere walking up to her huge white house with three humongous white pillars in front with her friend Lisa, “My mother is not home and the housekeeper doesn’t care what I do or who I bring home.” We entered her house, and her and Lisa started walking towards her bedroom as if I knew where it was. I tagged along not to seem immature or inexperienced in making out with girls like I did the first time we tried behind the middle staircase with Bryan and Monica after third period last Tuesday. I got scared and only gave he a peck on the cheek and then a kiss on the lips. I did not know she wanted to really make out, make out.
She opened the door to her room firmly with Lisa still in between us. When Ellen saw me standing in the door not knowing what to do with shoulders hunched up and licking my lips, she took charge. She looks at Lisa, “He licks his lips” they both laughed. I turned red and almost cried. “Lisa, go play with my brother”, in retrospect, I wish she had used a different phrase. She pointed for Lisa to leave the room and go to his room across the hall to the right. Lisa obeyed; every body obeys Ellen. “Squirrel, sit on the bed” she pointed to the bed near the middle but with room for her to sit closest to her pillows and teddy bear, brown and used. I wished she had called me by my name instead if my nickname but was glad she knew what to do. She closed her bedroom door; we were now alone. She put on her Sylvania stereo and “Billy Don’t Be a Hero” by Bo Donaldson and The Heywoods was playing. She leaned over enough to get close but to still make me do some of the work. She took her right hand into mine and lifted it and placed it slowly but assuredly on her shoulder and then let go to put hers on mine. I trembled and knew that she knew I was trembling. She laughed a little but held it back. She showed some compassion and I think she was actually touched by my innocence and adoration of her. I looked for as long as I could at her light brown eyes that seemed to have green and hazel and maybe even blue in them. Maybe I was just dreaming when I looked at her before our lips touched. Maybe I just was so present and excited I did not even know what color her eyes are but I know they were light brown. Her cheeks were soft, like, real soft. Her lips were thin, soft and wide. I kissed her! Or maybe she kissed me. We kissed.
We took a breath. She was smiling. I think I forgot to smile I was so elated. My heart was racing. My penis was tingling like it would when I woke in the night during a dream and it was slightly hard and ready to do that strange thing it does without me knowing when or why it does it. We kissed again and again. Finally, we held the kiss and I was making out with a girl, and not just any girl. I was making out with Ellen, the one girl that no boy could control or tame. The wild one who held the whole deck of cards. We giggled together. It was the first time we connected and did a
together. Until then, it had been her and me doing something but that moment, we did a
together. It was better than the movies or the stories my older brother used to tell. They never talked about the
together moment. I wondered how I had lived till then without a moment like that. We were holding each other tightly now and I could feel her thin body next to mine. Her shoulders were pressed against mine and her small but wonderful breasts massaged my chest like nothing had before. This was my moment, our moment really.
The door opened right then and her little brother walked in with his pants unbuttoned, blue jeans. He looked about eight or nine years old. Head down, shoulders sticking straight up and hands holding up his jeans. His face had three long tears streaming down his soft little cheeks. He whispered in Ellen’s ears but I could hear it, “Ellen, she touched my pee-pee and it hurts”. Our moment was done, never to return.
I have assumed since, he may not have ever had such a moment of innocence that we shared that Saturday afternoon in autumn of 1973.
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