True Love's First Kiss - Genre Creative Challenge, December

Davie was five and Meg was three. Her legs still unsteady, the tiny girl wobbled her way across the grass towards her friend.

"Look Davie."

"Look where."

"Look. My Mommy's kissing Daddy."

Davie deliberately looked the other way, and saw Meg's pursed lips reaching towards his face.

"Yuk silly," he said, and ran to join Meg's brother on the slide.

.......

Davie was nine and Meg was seven. Meg's brother was ten.

"Happy Birthday!" the children all sang round the restaurant table. Bright lights of electric machines flashed their magic, and clangs and beeps and bells lured the party-goers from food to the penny-pinchers ranged round the walls.

"Please can I? Please, just one go?" After all. It was his birthday.

"Okay Michael. Just one."

Then, of course, Davie and Terry and Nick all had to have coins to spend on computer games too. And Meg, lonely girl, little sister, unwelcome guest, held out her hand.

"Please Mommy."

"Just one go Meg."

She gave her quarter to Davie and held up her face, gazing hopefully, adoringly. He didn't even say thanks.

.......

Davie was twelve and Meg was ten.

"I wish I was in Junior High."

"You!" laughed Michael. "You wouldn't last five minutes."

"How d'you mean?"

Michael pointed to his little sister's homework, laid out next to his on the dining-room table. "You call that work?" he asked. "Just try doing the sort of work we do."

Then Davie looked up from the heavy text book he was reading at Michael's side. He almost smiled. Only almost. And Meg almost felt happy.

.......

Davie was sixteen and Meg was fourteen. She heard the boys talking in her brother's bedroom. There was a dance coming up at school, and neither of them knew how to invite a girl.

"Oy, sis. Can you help?"

"Sure," said Meg. She sprawled herself seductively on the floor between the TV game controllers. Davie's handsome face was turned away.

"So, what do you want?" Meg asked.

"Dave wants."

"I want to know how to invite Becky Reynolds to the dance," Davie said slowly.

"And I'm inviting her sister."

Meg held back the sudden stab of pain, buried it deep under enjoyment at having her opinions considered worthwhile. She would give good advice, mature advice, and prove herself worthy of attention. So she told the boys how to compliment a girl. "Tell her she looks nice, smells nice, say something good about her hair." Girls like to be listened to, "So laugh when they laugh, not just when you think it's funny." And they like to be valued, so, "Talk to them. Listen. Find out what matters to them."

"Boys," laughed Michael.

"Hopeless," said Meg and flounced out of the room-she had a well-practiced flounce with swirl of skirt and graceful sway of hip. But a quick glance over her shoulder showed Davie gazing pensively out of the window. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left.

.......

Davie was eighteen and Meg sixteen. She watched his graduation from her seat at her parents' side. She clapped louder for him than for Michael. She stood by as his family took photographs, Becky Reynolds leaning possessively on his arm, and she tried not to mind.

.......

Davie was nineteen and Meg seventeen. She wouldn't go with Michael to see him off. Becky would be there. Becky would hug him. Becky would cry over him.

Why did the stupid boy want to join the army anyway?

.......

Davie was home and Meg was away. When Michael told her Davie's squad had been blown up she asked for an address. She wrote letters filled with nothingness, bland tales of friends and life to someone whose friendships and life were broken. And though she heard nothing in reply she kept writing, monthly, weekly-daily by the time her exams came round.

"Dear Davie,

It's crazy isn't it? I'm so scared of the exams, so sure I'll do something wrong. Maybe I'll start coughing and my eyes will water and I won't be able to read what the questions say. I mean, how can I be scared, after what you went through over there. You must think I'm such a dope.

Then I wonder how you knew what everything meant, or if you knew, or if your eyes watered. And I want to ask you everything, want to see you, really I do.

I don't know why I keep writing Davie, except at least the letters don't get sent back undelivered. Please write sometime. Please tell me at least you read them once in a while.

Wishing you well, whatever that means. And if you care, please wish me luck.

Yours,

Meg"

Michael phoned her to tell her "Good luck from old Dave," and she cried, dripping fat blobs of tears on the page while she filled in black circles on white with a number two pencil.

.......

"Dear Davie,

I'm coming home tomorrow. I'll come and see you in hospital. Please say you'll let me in.

Yours,

Meg"

She asked her brother if Becky was still around and he said "No."

.......

Dave was blind and Meg could see. Dave's hands were broken and Meg's were sure. Dave was in pain and Meg, his best friend's sister, was in love.

She kissed the only part of his face that was not blistered and torn. Blind eyes filled her deep inside, fixed and focused on the sound of her voice. Words whispered from a wounded throat declared undying love. And a bandaged arm caressed her body as she leaned against Dave's side.

"For always Davie."

"For always." The syllables grated, rough and true. "Always loved you."

Love's long-awaited bliss.

© Sheila Deeth, December 2008