Kisses

Emily showed me her phone, her text from Evan. "I can't wait to see you, I miss kissing you," his text said.

I pictured them, together, on the couch, in a bed, arms around one another, deep, caring, passionate kisses. Kisses as a prelude to more, but kisses that were something in and of themselves. "You didn't respond," I said, seeing what time he sent it.

"He knew I was in meetings."

"You couldn't respond?"

"I suppose...but...but I wanted to show you, first."

"I assume you kiss," I said.

She frowned. "I know, but you used to have a thing...about kissing. It was cute, some things so naughty but okay, others so innocent but forbidden." 

She was right, I did. It wasn't a red line, it wasn't a ground rule, but I knew it was something, something different than sex, especially before, with other men. It wasn't actually forbidden but perhaps discouraged. I felt a pang, of course, I always did. "He...he's your boyfriend," I said, "I just assume you kiss."

"Yes," she admitted, "but..."

"He means it...with feelings," I said, knowing what she meant. It wasn't just a kiss of sexual passion, but something deeper.

"There's intimacy," she said, "not just sex, but intimacy."

"Feelings."

"I suppose," she said.

"Haven't there always been? Feelings?"

She shrugged. "I suppose," she said. 

"I mean, would he be your boyfriend if there weren't feelings? Isn't that part of it?"

"It's not love," she said, "not this."

"Em, I know. I've always assumed."

"I...I like kissing him, too."

"How does he make you feel?"

"Safe. Secure." She laughed. "Happy."

"Are you leaving me?" I said, saying the words before thinking, instantly wishing I could take them back, afraid, suddenly afraid. Did I catch something in her voice? Was there something to worry about?

"Sara," she said, not confirming my fear but not denying it either.

"Emily..."

"Is that how you feel?"

"I...I sometimes worry," I said. Was this a time to be worried?

"Sara..."

"Are you? Leaving? Do you want to be with him?"

"Sara!"

"Emily, please."

"You're my family," she said. "Both of you. My god, now I'm not leaving you, you shouldn't even ask that. No, I'm sorry, I take that back, it's natural, sorry, I should acknowledge your feelings. But no, of course I'm not leaving you. I do have feelings, I do care about him. I do like kissing him. I do like being with him. But, to reassure you, I long ago picked you."

"You like kissing him because you care about him."

"I do. Like kissing him. He's my boyfriend. I like when he kisses me. Being with him. Care about him. Not as much as you, though."

I looked at her, comforted, reassured. "You should tell him, he's probably wondering.:

She opened her phone and I watched her type. "Sorry, meetings and family. I can't wait to see you either and I miss you kissing me." She looked at me; I nodded; she hit send.