My Heart

After All These Years It's All The Same

Santa Monica, California
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
(2:45 am)
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When Stevie had flown to Chicago for Christmas in 1970 to see her family, her mother had happily grilled her for details about her new relationship. She had confessed to Barbara in the kitchen on Christmas Eve that she'd broken up with Dave Young after five years of dating and had begun a relationship with Lindsey Buckingham, and, as she'd knelt before the open over door and used reindeer oven gloves to remove a cherry pie from the oven to cool, Barbara had asked her which of them was the better kisser. Stevie had turned as red as the cherry pie filling as she'd looked sheepishly down at the brick orange tiled kitchen floor and admitted that the Best Kisser award, indeed, went to Lindsey.

"Honestly, Mom, the first time he kissed me I felt like I was drunk," she confessed, and far-away grin on her face, her eyes glazed over. "I actually felt unsteady on my feet for a minute! Then he kissed me again but I didn't have to stand up for much longer." She couldn't help her little giggle as it landed in her own hand over her mouth.

"Ah, yes...the dizzy, not-quite-on-earth feeling," Barbara said with a reminiscent smile on her face as she removed her reindeer oven gloves. "I definitely remember THAT feeling! Oh, Teedee...that's the good stuff!"

Stevie began to pick at the bowl of shredded mozzarella cheese that Barbara had grated for the lasagna. Stuffing shreds of cheese into her mouth with giddy, nervous energy, she said, "It really is. He was so sweet about it, Mom, and he looked like he was trying not to be nervous...It was so cute! HE is so cute! And he even held my face in his hands at one point...tucked my hair behind my ear...It was like I was being kissed in the middle of a big, fluffy cloud...and he called me angel and I think that's the nickname he's going to use now...I mean, aside from the fact that he likes calling me Stephanie and every time he says it I feel like in the middle of that big, fluffy cloud again."

"That's love, kiddo," Barbara said. "Enjoy it!" She reached across the counter to pull her daughter into a hug, and when they let go, she added with a teasing smile, "But just because you're in love doesn't mean you get to keep eating all my cheese! That's for the lasagna!" They both laughed, and when Barbara turned back to her pie, Stevie took one last handful of mozzarella cheese in secret.

Forty years later, in a dimly-lit room on a big red velvet sofa beside a roaring fire, Stevie felt herself getting drunk on kisses from the same man she'd told Barbara about in the kitchen on Christmas Eve. The first kiss had been small, gentle, just a slow brush of their lips together. The second one had been even just a stolen peck, even quicker than the first one.

Then their eyes had met. Lindsey had been holding her hand in his before they kissed, and when he opened his eyes and saw her looking back at him with a combined sense of hope and wonder at what had just happened between them, he had lifted his hand from hers and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips linger along the side of her face and down the side of her neck to her collarbone before letting go. The overwhelming sensation of warmth that had spread through her body and into her soul at his sweet gesture was what had propelled her closer towards him until her mouth was on his again, and this time, the kiss was longer, deeper, and she was once again in the middle of a big, fluffy cloud as wrapped his arms around her.

Now she was on his lap, her knees bent on either side of him and her hands on his shoulders for balance as they kissed ravenously, lips and tongues and even teeth involved, Lindsey's hands gripping almost too tightly at her hair to hold her steadily against him, hearts pounding and breathing heaving so close together they neither of them were sure whose was whose, nor did they stop to care. Stevie had thought for a split second as she'd climbed up onto his lap a few minutes ago that this was just how their night in San Jose had been - the surprisingly good time alone for the evening with memories and laughter and pleasant conversation that fell just short of being like old times, until suddenly it was just like old times and they were pawing at each other like lion cubs and tossing aside articles of clothing as they reacquainted each other with the electric yet familiar feeling of being wrapped around each other and completely connected.