I Didn't Mean to Kiss Her

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Convincing my mom to cancel her New Years Eve Party proved futile.

I couldn’t tell her the real reason I didn’t want her to have the party, and all the fake ones I made up were not rational. I thought if I sulked enough maybe she’d at least grant me a pass from showing my face at the thing.

“You’re my daughter,” she said that morning. “Everyone is expecting to see you.”

I pushed my bowl of cereal away from me and crossed my arms. “This isn’t fair, mom. You’re not making Michael or James go to this thing.”

“Michael has a fiancé he’s spending New Years Eve with,” she responded with a roll of her eyes my way.

“Why can’t I go out with James?” I whined.

“Because James is twenty-one, and last time I checked you were still sixteen.” She sighed. “Veda, what has gotten into you? You always loved this party.”

“It’s boring mom,” I said. “None of my friends are going to be there. I’m just going to be stuck in a corner the whole night.”

She looked at me, confused. “A bunch of girls from your class will be there, Veda. The McKinley family. The Jamesy’s.” Her tone changed slightly. “The West’s.”

“Again,” I said flatly. “None of my friends will be there.”

My mother shook her head several times. “I thought you and Clara were friends?”

I balked. “She hates my guts.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic Veda. She doesn’t.”

I looked at her like she was crazy. “Hates my guts is actually quite the understatement.” Clara West didn’t just hate me. She despised my very existence. I was sure that if she believed she could get away with it and still maintain her perfect image she’d have me killed.

It all began in second grade, which seemed absurd because second grade was so long ago. But that was when it started and it hadn’t stopped since.

She wore her strawberry blonde hair in ringlets that rested on delicate shoulders and even at that young of an age, Clara West commanded the room and had everyone’s attention. Particularly mine.

It was her birthday, and she came into school wearing a brand new plaid dress from the Burberry Fall line. I made her a glitter-glue birthday card during arts and crafts, was hand delivering it to her desk when I was tripped by a boy named Ross who no longer lived in our town. I slathered the front of her dress with my more-glue-than-glitter card.

Thus how I became Clara West’s number one enemy.

Up until that moment, I hadn’t even been on Clara West’s radar. Nothing I did garnered me the attention I had desperately wanted from her as a kid. She had chosen her best friends and I hadn’t made the cut.

But after showering her in glitter-glue, I became a battleship she was ready to sink. Even if it was her anger and hatred that she shot at me during every class, I was finally someone to her.

“Veda,” my mother said finally. “We’re not having this debate anymore. Your presence is required this evening. Now head upstairs, the caterers will be here soon and I don’t want you in the way.”

Groaning, I responded with a tone of defeat, “This bites.”

“Yes, yes, the world is a cruel and unfortunate place for you,” mom responded with a bit of laughter.

“You’re just plain mean.” I sulked off figuring the only other person I could plead my case to was my father.

He was in his office, and on his phone when I walked in. I curled up in one of the leather armchairs on the other side of his desk waiting for him to finish. When he hung up, he smiled at me and said, “What’s up?”

“You love me right dad?” I started, figuring I had to play my cards just right.

“Yes,” he responded hesitantly.

“And you want me to be happy, right?”

Again, a very hesitant, drawn out, “Yes.”

“Would you do anything for my happiness?”

He looked at me quizzically. “What’s this about, Veda?”

“I really, really can’t go to mom’s party tonight.”

He said, “You don’t have to go anywhere. It’s right here in the house.”

I groaned. “You know what I mean, dad.”

He shook his head. “This is your mother’s call, not mine. You know that.”

“Dadddddd,” I groaned. “This is a matter of a life and death.”

My mother’s voice rang from the doorway, “What’s a matter of life and death?”

Dad said, “Veda doesn’t want to be at the party tonight” the same time I said, “Nothing.”

“Veda!” my mom barked. “Enough is enough. You’re going to the party and that’s final.”

Annoyed, I jumped out of the armchair and shoved past my mother. I heard her call, “You are an extremely disrespectful child! I raised you better than that, Veda.”
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It became apparently clear by noon that there was no way I’d get out of this New Years party. Not unless I spontaneously combusted or had a sudden and unexpected onset of some illness like the measles or mumps, but since I’d had all my vaccinations I doubted that.

My mom came to my room later that afternoon, already dressed in a silky red dress, her dark hair wrapped in an intricate low chignon. I had already showered and had just finished drying my hair when she joined me, gesturing for me to sit down as she picked up my curling wand I had turned on to heat up.

“Veda, what’s going on?” she asked quietly. “Why are you so adamant about not going to the party?” She parted my hair, clipped some of it up and started curling.

I sighed. I wanted to tell my mom everything; it was making me sick keeping all the secrets inside me. But would she still love me if she knew I wasn’t the daughter she’d expected me to be? “It’s nothing,” I said quietly.

“I don’t believe that for a second, Veda,” my mom responded. I didn’t say anything and we both were quiet as she curled my hair. When she finished, I handed her some hairspray, and covered my face as she sprayed. “You know,” she said softly looking at me in the mirror. “You can always talk to me. You’re my daughter. And I love you. Always.”

“I know mom,” I said but with a feeling in my gut that I didn’t really know it. “It’s nothing. Really.”

She hesitated, looked like she was going to say more but decided not to, leaving quietly. I finished getting ready in a daze, and by six the first guests were arriving. My father stopped by my room as I slipped my feet into my heels. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

“Thanks dad.” I smiled.

He held his arm out to me, so I stepped forward and linked mine with his. “Before you know it the night will be over and so will this year.”

I only wished that was enough.
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For the first hour, things were going smoothly. I was helping myself to all types of different hors d’oeurve, circulating the room as I chatted with family and friends. Maybe the West’s wouldn’t attend the party this year.

Or maybe they would.

They showed up just as the second hour kicked into full swing, Mr. and Mrs. West entering first, greeting my parents with hugs before Clara surfaced behind them. I should’ve ducked then, should’ve made a mad dash for my bedroom or something, but I didn’t.

Clara stood in the doorway, looking perfect, as usual in a black and nude lace dress that hugged her figure. She didn’t notice me, not at first, but then her eyes found mine and latched I like she was a hypnotic snake. She squinted slightly, like she wasn’t sure it was me she was staring and then I saw it.

I knew the I’m-on-a-warpath look well, and knew I had to get out of there before she got to me. “Excuse me,” I blurted to the Bernstein’s before I feed into the kitchen, knocking into a caterer. “Sorry!” I cried, rushing out the other doorway into the foyer.

I didn’t know where to go that I’d be able to hide from her, so I slid into the bathroom locking the door and pressing my back against it as I caught my breath. This was good. This was safe. I could hide out in the bathroom till midnight. That was only four hours away.

No, this was actually stupid.

Someone tapped softly. It could be Mrs. Marino and she was old; her bladder could be on the precipice of bursting. I didn’t need that on my conscious. As I opened the door, I was shoved back into the bathroom, blindsided as I was pushed into the wall, and lost my footing, grabbing the towel rack for the support.

I got a glimpse of golden hair before I figured out that it wasn’t Mrs. Marino at the door, or any other old woman who couldn’t hold their bladder. Nope, yeah it was Clara. Her soft knock had been wildly deceitful. Clara West had me locked in the bathroom.

She stood in front of the door, arms crossed as she stared at me with one eyebrow raised. Clara was short, maybe five-two at best but in heels she pushed five-five. With her attitude, though, she could be seven feet, no problem.

My mouth was suddenly dry and I wanted to dunk my head in the toilet and drown. “Please don’t kill me,” I said pathetically holding my hands up for protection.

“Oh shut up,” Clara responded rolling her eyes. Clara was very straight forward. “Why did you kiss me?” She also didn’t mince words.

“Uhm,” I said stupidly, eyes too wide that it wasn’t actually harder to see.

Why had I kissed Clara? I didn’t know. It was the last day before break and the whole school was in the gymnasium listening to Christmas music and drinking hot chocolate.

Clara was in Mr. Clarke’s classroom, sorting through the boxes of clothes our school had been collecting for months that would go to homeless youth in the surrounding neighborhoods. Clara was the President of the Mission Club so it wasn’t surprising that she would be here, working while everyone else was relaxing before break.

“I bought you a hot chocolate,” I said holding out the foam cup.

She was glaring at me as she took it. “Don’t think sucking up is going to gain my support for student body secretary.”

Clara was currently VP and would undoubtedly be President next year. Whoever she backed for the current elections would have a guarantee in, but that wasn’t why I was there.

Truth be told, I had no idea why I was there. “Do you want some help?” I had asked expecting her to decline.

Surprisingly, she said, “Sure.”

It was the first time in a long time that Clara West was actually civil with me and maybe the reason I had kissed her.

“Well?” Clara snapped when a long pause ensued and I still hadn’t answered her question.

“I don’t know.”

That eyebrow, the one trimmed and manicured to a perfect arch, rose to meet the other one. “You don’t know?”

I gave a shake of my head. “Nope.”

“Do you like girls?” she asked like that was an even valid question. I blushed.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Nope.”

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

Quietly, embarrassed, I said, “You.”

Her eyebrows came down, furrowing above her eyes. “Well, why did you kiss me?” I didn’t say anything. We seemed to be circling back here. She looked at me critically. “Who told you?”

“Told me what?” I asked, confused.

“Seriously, how many people know?”

“Know what?”

“That I like girls!”

“You like girls?”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Why is that so surprising? God, it is so close-minded to assume that a person’s default orientation is straight until proven otherwise.”

“I just – I didn’t,” I stammered. “You’ve never dated any girls at school before so.”

She rolled her eyes. “Have you seen me date guys at our school?” Now that she pointed it out, I hadn’t. I just assumed Clara had been above the boys at our school, though. That Clara thought she was entirely too perfect to stoop as a low as a high school boy.

I stumbled on my response, unsure of what to say. She turned her head slightly and said, “Well, wait, if you didn’t know I liked girls why did you kiss me?”

I felt my face heat up again. “Uhm.”

She took a step forward, lips puckering thoughtfully. The bathroom was suddenly overwhelmingly small. “Do you,” she paused slightly, “do you have a crush on me?”

I laughed anxiously, just one hollow bark. She took another step forward. I rubbed my hands together. “You do,” she said slowly, her lips pulling back into a grin. I mumbled something that might not have been coherent. She turned her head and said, “Hm?” So I was pretty sure it definitely wasn’t coherent.

“I uh – and, uh, I’m sorry?”

She peered at me curiously. “You’re sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I don’t know why I did it. So I’m saying sorry, for crossing your boundaries or whatever.”

She took another step towards me, and the little space between us shrunk even more. Clara had to look up to meet my gaze but it didn’t make her seem any less powerful in this situation. “Do you think maybe you did it because you wanted to?”

I muttered, “Maybe.”

“And do you think maybe you want to now?”

I pressed my back against the wall. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“If I kiss you right now are you going to freak out and bolt from the room?” Clara really didn’t mince words. I tried to shake my head one way, but it was a stiff movement. Clara quirked her brows and I noticed her lip twitch as she took the last few steps between us.

Her body pressed closely to mine and I was nervous but I knew I wanted her to kiss me. She reached out, touched my forearms slowly, not moving her eyes from mine. She leaned towards me and I blurted, “Wait. What if I do have a crush on you?”

She shrugged softly. “So what if you do?”

“I don’t want to give you any more of a reason to hate me.”

Clara was laughing as soon as the words left my mouth. “You think, you think I hate you?” I nodded slowly. “I had a thing for you, Veda.”

My mouth was dry again. Someone knocked on the bathroom door, and Clara glanced over her shoulder, calling, “Just a minute” and then her gaze returned to mine, questioningly.

“Had?” I asked and she laughed again, pushing the sound into my mouth as she kissed me.

I wasn’t sure what it meant, what it said about me, but I kissed Clara West anyway.