A Thousand Boy Kisses(68)

I wasn’t sure how someone so perfect even existed.

Moving around to the hood of the car, I pulled my smokes out of the back pocket of my jeans and struck the lighter. I inhaled a much-needed drag. I closed my eyes as the hit of nicotine calmed me down.

I opened my eyes and stared at the sunset. The sun was fading on the horizon, flashes of orange and pink in its wake. The beach was almost empty but for the old couple I had seen before.

Only this time when I watched them, still so in love after all these years, I didn’t let myself feel grief. As I glanced back at Poppy sleeping in the car, I felt a … happiness. Me. I felt happy. I let myself feel happy even through all this hurt. Because … here I am … so completely in love with you…

She loved me.

Poppymin. My girl. She loved me.

“That’s enough,” I said to the wind. “That’s enough for right now.”

Throwing the smoke’s butt to the ground, I quietly slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine sprang to life and I drove away from the beach, sure we’d be here again.

And if we didn’t, like Poppy said, we’d had this moment. We had this memory. She had her kiss.

And I had her love.



*



When I pulled into her driveway, dusk had fallen, the stars beginning to wake. Poppy had slept all the way home, her light, rhythmic breathing a comforting sound as I drove us down the dark roads toward home.

Putting the car in park, I got out and walked around to her side. I opened the door as quietly as I could, undoing the seatbelt and scooping Poppy into my arms.

She felt as if she weighed nothing as she instinctively curled into my chest, her warm breath drifting over my neck. I walked to her door. As I reached the top step, the front door opened. Mr. Litchfield was standing in the hallway.

I continued forward and he moved out of my way, allowing me to carry Poppy to her bedroom. I saw Poppy’s mama and sisters sitting in the living room, watching TV.

Her mama got to her feet. “Is she okay?” she whispered.

I nodded. “She’s just tired.”

Mrs. Litchfield leaned forward and kissed Poppy’s forehead. “Sleep tight, baby,” she whispered. My chest tightened at the sight, then she nodded for me to take Poppy to her room.

I walked her down the hallway and through to her bedroom. As gently as I could, I placed her on her bed, smiling when Poppy’s arm naturally searched for me on the side of the bed in which I slept.

When Poppy’s breathing had evened out once again, I sat down on the side of her bed and ran my hand down her face. Leaning forward, I kissed her soft cheek and whispered, “I love you, Poppymin. Forever always.”

Rising from the bed, I froze when I caught sight of Mr. Litchfield in the doorway, watching … listening.

My jaw clenched as he stared me down. Inhaling a calming breath through my nose, I walked silently past him, down the hallway and back out to the car to get my camera.

I returned to the house to leave the car keys on the table in the hallway. As I entered, Mr. Litchfield walked from the living room. I stopped, rocking awkwardly until he reached out his hand for the keys.

I dropped them in his hand and went to turn to walk away. Before I could, he asked, “Did y’all have a good time?”

My shoulders tensed. Forcing myself to respond, I met his eyes and nodded. Throwing a wave to Mrs. Litchfield, Ida and Savannah, I walked out the door and down the steps. As I reached the bottom step, I heard, “She loves you too, you know.”

Mr. Litchfield’s voice brought my feet to a stop, and without looking back, I replied, “I know.”

I crossed the grass to my house. I went straight to my room and tossed the camera onto the bed. I intended to wait out the next few hours before I went to Poppy. But the more I stared at the camera bag, the more I wanted to see how the photos had turned out.

The pictures of Poppy dancing in the sea.

Without giving myself the chance to walk away, I grabbed the camera and sneaked down to the darkroom in the basement. As I reached the door and turned the knob, I flicked on the light. I sighed, a strange feeling settling within me.

Because Poppy had been right. My pappa had prepared this room for me. My equipment was exactly where it would have been two years ago. The lines and pegs were ready and waiting.

The process of developing the pictures felt as if I’d never been away. I enjoyed the familiarity of each step. Nothing was forgotten, like I had been born with the ability to do this.

Like I had been given this gift. Poppy recognized that I had needed this in my life, when I was too blinded by the past to see it.

The smell of the chemicals hit my nose. An hour passed, and I eventually stood back, the pictures on their pegs forming into shapes, second by second revealing the moment caught on film.

The red light didn’t stop me from seeing the wonders that I’d captured. As I walked along the lines of hanging images, of life in its glory, I couldn’t stave off the excitement burning in my chest. I couldn’t stop the smile—for this work—playing on my lips.

Then I stopped.

I stopped at a picture that held me captive. Poppy, holding on to the hem of her dress, dancing in the shallow water. Poppy, with a carefree smile and windblown hair, laughing wholeheartedly. Her eyes bright and her skin flushed as she looked over her shoulder, right at me. The sun lighting her face in an angle so pure and beautiful it was as if it was a spotlight on her happiness, attracted by her magnetic joy.