Just a Kiss

“Thank you, Ouen.” But back then, I wasn’t quite sure. Back then I didn’t realize what I was really thanking him for.

***

Ouen was clearly a man of mysteries. To be honest, his theories and explanations sounded like a load of gibberish to me. That is of course, assuming I was his only victim. What he said was more pointless and meaningless than the nonsense words generated by those spam filters you get on the internet. Pfft… Ouen was the creator of spam, not the abolisher. He entered my life, like a stone plunging into a calming pool and disrupting the ambience, creating ripples. Rings that continue to expand, shaking, and corrupting everything surrounding them... Until the rings in the water get so big, they are beyond the pool; only fragments of them can be seen, only fractions understood.

***
Breathing out a perfect tunnel of air, I sighed. The cold metal of the retired lamp-post tingled with a sensation of ice on my back. Not exactly what I’d call an ideal resting spot- but I knew what was coming next. This waiting, getting a shock, listening to jabbering, and then eventually arriving at school was now part of my daily routine –(I much preferred the original, wake up, go to school version.) However, my philosophy was: I’d rather be ready, and waiting for whatever surprises are out there, than let them succeed at being a disturbing interruption; everyday.
“And you know what,” startling me (despite my preparations) Ouen’s voice seemed to appear beside me before he did. He continued talking to me in this way, as though we’d been chatting all morning and I knew exactly what he was on about. I only wish I did. Wish I’d known sooner.

“You, yes you.” He looked at me with a sideways diagonal glance, “You don’t even have your own emotions.” I continued striding onwards, my vision fixed on the hazy, trailing clouds. He continued, “You’re just channeling through everybody else’s emotions, like some human calculator keeping everyone in balance.” Ouen now began fumbling in his blue-zebra-striped jeans pocket that bulged with peculiar items. “See, without you the world would be a disaster, emotions a disease. People wouldn’t be able to manage what feelings they absorbed, and which they emitted.” Ouen was pressing buttons on the thing from his pocket, looking as if he was trying to find something on it.
I couldn’t help but be curious. Is that what he wanted? As I leaned over to take a glance, he snatched it away out of my sight. But carried on using it, now down by his side – eyes fixed on its crystal blue tinted screen.
“What-” I took a breath, I was still alive, still on earth. “What- the hell is that?” Ouen was smiling to himself, as if he’d finally got a result from his gadget. Then looked at me for a second.

“You don’t even care!” He blurted out. I could almost depict sadness, or pity reflected in his blue eyes. Taking a breath, he lowered his eyebrow in a concerned manner towards the kerb.
“Like the pavement cares, Ouen!” I joked, flicking one of my plaits carelessly over my shoulder.
“It cares more than you do!” He protested, a film of anger shivering on the surface of his voice. Placing the whitey-silver gadget back in its mini junkyard, Ouen’s pocket gave a clink of satisfaction.
“Perhaps the rumour is true then, transceiver souls are neutral. Perhaps you really are emotionless. So much–” He flashed me that familiar, sharp look that was eventually beginning to cut into me.
“So much that you don’t even care…” Clink of the Celtic stars on Ouen’s chain. Chink of my opal encrusted ring on the school gate.
“You don’t even care - that you’re about to die!” Click of the button that made me realise Ouen was being serious. I really was, about to die.

Usually this would be the moment of relief, the turning point where I break away from Ouen, and we go our separate ways. But on that day, taking the next step was impossible. My black shoes felt as if they were swollen with tears, and my mind swimming with possibilities weighed me down even more. What if, I thought, what if Ouen was really telling the truth, and I’m just being ignorant? Perhaps I should feel especially lucky to get to know this information...? On thinking this, I felt a slight bit of pain for Ouen; for the way I’d treated him. But only a little bit.

Then Ouen grabbed me. I knew it was Ouen: his stiff torso, and skinny arms that seemed to embrace me in a more precise way; determined. No hair sweeping over my neck, and no exquisite smells of laboratory chemicals mixed with pineapple juice and the faint aroma of violet creams. I did feel a crystal clear droplet on my shoulder though. It trickled into the crevice under my neck where it nestled, rocked to sleep by my shaking head of disbelief.

Amongst his silent tears, his calming voice spoke out,
“I’m sorry. It sounds pathetic, but that’s English for you. That’s your world.” He held me a little closer, until I could feel all the trinkets and chains from his jeans digging into my lower spine. Your world… My world? I span around to face him, and now my eyes were beginning to waver with tears as I spoke,
“I know, and I hate it. How everyone’s so secretive and selfish, all just striving onwards only to benefit themselves. We think we have friends, but really, we’re just using people to make our own lives better.” I sniffed; this was so embarrassing- and totally not me. I never let my true feelings and thoughts tumble out, and especially not like this, in public – at school! I guess I was changing. Mundane, and shrill the bell rung out. It didn’t stop me.

“That’s what I like about you, Ouen.” I liked him? The idea seemed revolutionary to me, but the words continued to flow from my mouth,

“You’re different. You care, about others. And when you try, you try for them, not yourself. All this time you’ve been trying to help me, and I’ve just been boring and selfish. I’m the one who should be saying the pathetic ‘sorry’.” I finally felt I could take the steps away from him. But it wasn’t Ouen anymore, it wasn’t me. In that one moment- our bond, our friendship- had become a completely different character. I had a passion for life, a driving force. I’d been wrong all along. Kizuko hadn’t given me a chance to speak, to announce my opinion. He’d been just another person trying to take advantage of me, and Ouen was the different one, the one who gave me a chance to finally sit in the driver’s seat of my own car.

***

Over the next few days, I began to realise that I wasn’t only being more open with Ouen; but with everyone. It was as if the gates were being let down, bit by bit, and more and more of my emotions were beginning to spill out of me. The river of my feelings becoming thicker and thicker, tugging with it a powerful current. But it wasn’t just me. Tension was rising everywhere. Was it contagious? The atmosphere was increasingly becoming more crowded with anger, passion and happiness; every room was shaking with a louder chatting force than before. What on earth was going on? This was what I wondered, until I realised what was going on, wasn’t on earth.

***