Stolen Kiss

 
Leslie was a gift from heaven. I will admit that there were years of believing the experience was God giving me socks or pajamas, or maybe a better image would be a flaming bag of something smelly on my front porch. Let’s linger on images a little longer, maybe God was trying to score a goal (Soccer) by executing a powerful kick to my Balzac (Never read any of his stuff, but he has a funny name, Balzac). What is strange is that after years of distance there does seem to be a goal. Lovely Leslie was a beautiful soul. K, I am at the Keyboard starting to cry (Big Baby), but it feels good and I am accepting welcomed emotions (and lots of self-help books). I loved her. I was nineteen and an assistant manager at the Astoria Burger King. She was a new employee, I remember the first time she came into the store. She had a smile that was perfect emotional sunshine, a laugh that told you everything was going to be alright, and blonde hair of gold (Did I mention that I was trying to use my X-ray vision to see if she had any moles on her body). She just did not seem to belong at the Burger King (“What is so special about Whoppers anyway?” asked the man with the Whopper Jr.), why wasn’t this lovely young woman off at college or married off? Information that I acquired as I got to know her was that she had an incredible sense of humor, she believed in God (I, at the time was questioning), she had been to modeling school, she loved her parents, she was 22, and she did have a boyfriend. I liked her, she liked me, but I was not going to intrude on her relationship. I wanted to be honorable. I looked forward to going to work hoping that she would be there. One day she mentioned that her boyfriend was selling his motorcycle, that peaked my interest and the interest grew the more she described the bike (I said my interest you perverts). Rebellious exciting snapshot images flooded my mind, Knight on my trusty stead, Lone Roger on Silver, and chick magnetism. One problem, I had driven dirt bikes when no one cared if I wrecked it but I had never been on the road with a bike and was not confident of my skills. Then she said “I have a bike, I will teach you” my heart bounced off the floor and I was mentally searching for my checkbook and a pen (and reality). Soon after that we went up to the boyfriends and I met him (Unfortunately a nice guy, I was looking for reasons not to like him. He looked like a college quarterback so I’m sure the light bulb didn’t go to the top of the elevator shaft (See, I had to insult him backhandedly). The motorcycle was the most attractive machine I had ever seen before or since. A powerful and sexy Asian female black ninja. Other than my excitement over the bike I was getting a strange vibe from the two of them. I didn’t feel anger between them, just that my intuition was telling me that they were no longer sharing their lives and the distance was obvious (No comment). Could not pinpoint at the time. I agreed to buy the bike. Leslie and I then left in my car, I was going to take her home to her parents house at Cullaby Lake. I may have asked such questions as “why did you stop going to school, you were living with your boyfriend but now you are living with your parents, what happened, and why are you working at Burger King (you don‘t like the food, do you?)?” I do remember silences, but I do not remember answers, I realized that I was prying but I was also curious. We fell back into pleasant comfortable wacky silly conversation and before we knew it we were at her house. I met her parents and she showed me her bike and suggested that the boyfriend ride mine over to her place and the lessons could take place out of the garage. Silent “Yes!” and a fantasy high five to myself. We enjoyed each others company for a while longer and then she said that she was getting tired, so I left until next time. I know that I hugged her because it lingered and I really wanted to kiss her, but thought that I shouldn’t. “I’ll see you at work Leslie.”

A few days later we had our first lesson. It was a gorgeous and glorious spring afternoon. We pulled the bikes out of the garage and she wanted me to wrap my arms around her from behind on her bike and she would drive us around the neighborhood a few times. It was awesome to feel her giggle with joy as we sped up, slowed down, and made corners. The neighborhood had occasional gravel dead ends to nowhere. It seemed like we laughed together for love hours (Corny). Love hours usually take place in actual minutes or seconds (You are such a girl, Roger. Shut up parenthesis guy). We found ourselves back in her driveway, and now it was my time to ride on my own. We started slow, me leading as she followed a couple bus lengths behind. We were having the greatest time! We were dancing with motorcycles. I was starting to get really good and my confidence grew. I started to go faster on the straight aways. I started to turn around in the entrance of one of the dead ends. Gravel was sliding, the bike laid down on the pavement, I somehow was standing on top of it like a surf board until it started to slow and then I jumped off and eased into a slow stop myself. I knew it was not going to be a pretty sight. I lifted the bike and saw the protruding turn signal was now crushed and dangling to the side of the fuel tank and the whole side of the bike had been scratched up. Leslie pulled up terrified, in a scared panic. “ARE YOU OK!?” “ARE YOU OK!?” She was able to use her kickstand and did so quickly. She hugged me, she was trembling. “Are you ok?” My response was a sly “Yeah…Thank you”. I could not thank her enough for that hug, I will always remember it. We walked the bikes back to the garage and then went inside the house. She plopped onto the couch exhausted and asked me to sit on the opposite love seat. Leslie said in a monotone voice “I want to tell you something, I have Cancer, and it is terminal.” Time stopped, I shut down. The bridge of my nose started to tingle in a bad way and I know that I dripped a couple of tears on her parents carpet. “There is nothing that they can do?” “They have tried everything”

“Now comes a hard part for me Roger, I was selfish I wanted our laughs to continue longer than I should have let them.” “Please respect my wishes and make this easier for me, don’t say anything, just walk away before I hurt you more.”

“Pick up the motorcycle whenever you are ready, my dad will open the garage door for you.”

“Don’t try to see me because I won’t be here and BK already knows that I won’t be coming back to work.”

“I am so tired Roger, please help me by leaving, I want to rest.” (F-Word!)

I respected her wishes. After 22 years, these memories have surfaced and I can now see what a gift she gave me when she had little time left to give. I wish I could have held her hand to the end.