Rodin meets Jean Baudrillard

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I

' The average woman uses up approximately her height in lipstick every five years. '

The small bell above the door chimed to mark Valentine's arrival. Walking into the chemist his nose is tickled by a wall of perfume. All scents mixed together, distinct on the air. The entrance to the shop is flanked by rows of pink, white and blue boxes on the shelves and before each row, a small atomiser to test each against the back of one's hand. Valentine ignores all this and wanders over to the make-up stand, where the crown of his head is reflected by the mirror behind. He moves an inch to the right and there, in front of him, is what he came in for. Lipsticks lined up with their caps pointing out to show their shades.

Valentine peers around at the other customers. An old woman talking to the proprietor, who himself turns to spy at Valentine standing there suspiciously. Valentine turns to look at an 18-year-old girl looking at an assortment of coloured hair scrunches. The owner goes back to explaining something to the old woman, some instructions for the cream she's been prescribed.

For weeks Valentine had been trying to get the confidence for this quest. The grail; a tube of lipstick. The veil of the lips, something uniquely linked to love. For many months before he'd been obsessed by Rodin's sculpture 'The Kiss', a replica had appeared in his home along with the arrival of his mother's new lover, Andreas. For Valentine the statue was mesmerising; this union of two lovers, but made from one solid material. No fear of separation. It was an ideal; the representation of love in both action and physicality.

A particular shade of red stands out for Valentine, he can't tell why, but he fingers the tube. Sliding it out of the frame it is held in. Like a tiny bottle of wine; a wire rack of lipsticks. With the owner still busy with the old woman and the 18-year-old distracted by boxes of tampons, Valentine walks slowly toward the door. Through the corridor of scent. Flowers and leather, new books and chocolate, until the door opens. Another chime and the only scent is the summer air. His heart beating fast in his chest.

II

' The word "honeymoon" first appeared in the 16th century. The honey is a reference to the sweetness of a new marriage and the moon is not a reference to the lunar-based month, but rather a bitter acknowledgement that this sweetness, like a full moon, would quickly fade. '

Back at home Valentine's Mother is having her face sucked off by Andreas. The house had turned into a horror show, since his Father had left. A precession of strange men and each arriving with the promise of love. Each falling short of love after a few weeks. Andreas, like the other's, had at first made an effort with Valentine. Valentine 'the baggage', 'the package deal', the thing they could 'put up with' to be with his Mother. A few days of promising a 'kick about', a couple of gifts, before he was left alone. He'd been given a game for his Xbox, to keep him out of the way. With the arrival of Andreas his Mother had another 'honeymoon' period. The house went back to a world of doors, each containing a vision of his Mother being manhandled. Or bent in some odd direction. Lips like tentacle suckers, leaving red marks on her neck. She didn't bother wearing scarves, when she came to collect him from school. It was to show the other Mother's how much her new man liked her. Small sucker-marks of honour.

Running up the stairs, two at a time, he bursts into his room. The only safe one left in his home. His sanctuary. He moves to his desk and opens the drawer. Placing the lipstick inside, he closes the drawer and smiles to himself. At 10-years-old, Valentine's focus should be on computer games and marbles; but his mind had been altered by that image. By the beauty of Rodin's vision. His mind has turned over on itself, matured to the idea of love. As a concept; as beauty reaching further than an act of passion. His Mother's love seemed ugly to him, but Rodin's love was something spiritual. Something angelic and pure. Or not pure, but honest. Two people united by their need for one another. His mother, instead, is living a lie in honour of the pretension of love.

III

' It was believed that birds chose their mates on February 14th and because doves mate for life, they have become a symbol of fidelity. '

The next day Valentine meets up with his friend Gus in the local park. Lying on the grass looking up it is Gus who speaks first.

• Val, do you think that birds fall in love?

• Maybe.

• I think they might, you see them sometimes. Two of them on a branch together.

• How do you know they are a girl and a boy bird? Could be two boy birds!

• Don't be gross!

• I wasn't.

• Well, I think they do. My dad told me that Albatross fall in love. They are the birds from The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, they fall in love and stay together forever.

• They are better at finding love than my Mum then, she can't find love with anyone.

• Is the new man stupid too?

• Yeah, he gave me a game, but it was just to get rid of me.

• Lame.

• Yeah.

The two boys turn over to rest their elbows in the long grass. They notice two girls walking over to them. Gus turns to Valentine to speak.

• Look out, it's Margo and Felicity

• They go to another school, how do you know them?

• My Mum knows their mum, so we have to go around and 'play'.

The girls walk over and stand at Valentine and Gus's feet before kicking Gus lightly.

• Ow! What you do that for!?!

• You are meant to introduce us to him!

Margo said this with a finger pointed right at Valentine. She turns to Felicity and smiles evilly, before turning back to address Gus again.

• I think your friend is cute.

• Shut up Margo! Don't be stupid!

• I know you are Gus, but what am I?

Both boys get up and face off to their opponents. Without another word Margo lunges forward and kisses Valentine on the lips, before turning to Felicity and laughing. Both girls are off like scared rabbits. Their white skirts flicking like tails, as their shoes kick them up.

• That was dumb.

• Gus, that was hell!

IV

' The longest kiss listed in the Guinness Book of World Records lasted an incredible 417 hours. '

After the unwanted kiss of a week ago, Valentine's confusion had deepened. Even his idol worship of the statue delivered no lasting salvation. He was distraught, unsure of his own dream. If a kiss was as simple as Margo's easy plunge of lips, perhaps he was wrong to think of it so idealistically. What was meant to be an experience to alter his heart, had turned out to be hollow. A pointless action that meant nothing. He stole away to his room and burst into tears.

Some moments later his Mother appeared in the doorway. Seeing her son in such a state she ventured forward to ask him want the problem was. In between trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Valentine told his Mother about the kiss.

• Oh Valentine, honey. A kiss is only special when it is with someone wonderful. When you feel like the kiss will take your soul out of your body. When you feel it might start your heart. How you can't quite breathe without a kiss from the person you have set your heart on.

Valentine stopped crying. A kiss was a prescription, like the old lady and the cream. It was given with the intention of healing. Sure, you could kiss someone just normally, but it didn't hold the same power.

Valentine's dream was restored. He packed his bag to meet Gus at the leisure center. Wandering downstairs he turned to look through to the living room. Saw his Mother in the arms of Andreas. Saw her hug him closer and then grace his lips with hers. Valentine smiled to himself.

V

' Romeo: “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.” '

Gus and Valentine undressed quickly and threw their clothes into their lockers. They each pulled a large red elastic band around their wrist; the marker that signaled how long they could stay in the pool.

The pool itself was a large 'L' shape and the boys ran in together, the shallow end first not reaching their knees and then cooling their thighs and then entering their swimming shorts. They fell backwards to let the water claim them entirely. Looking like two born-again Christians being baptised they rose to the surface wiping the wet hair away from their eyes and pinching their noses. Then opening their eyes they laughed that the sodden sight of each other.

Valentine swam a little, not venturing into the deeper length of the pool, where the adult swimmers were doing their training. He dove under water and as he turned looking at the ocean world around him, he saw a pair of legs and a pink swimming costume. Coming up to the surface he raised his eyes out of the water like a crocodile. There before him was April Drillard. The most beautiful girl in his class.

Feeling his knees going weak was fine while he was wading. Before the end of term she'd come over to ask him for a ruler and he'd fallen over, but here he was in no fear of falling. No further than in love, anyway.

Gus was over by the diving board, waiting his turn to do a belly-flop. So Valentine fixed his gaze on April and trod water slowly to get a better look at her. His little heart fluttered and he swallowed a mixture of saliva and pool-water. He almost didn't care Gus had admitted to peeing in the pool every time they came.

He imagined swimming up to her and being inches from her face. Seeing her beautiful pink lips up-close. Her brown eyes sparkling with kindness. He'd kiss her, draw close enough to share the same air. Then, like a fool, he'd dip his head below the water to hear his own heart beating. Like he'd done so much at home in the bathtub. His heart would be pounding so loud that everyone in the pool would be able to hear it. Then April would know that he loved her. His heart would speak for him.

Valentine trod water, not noticing where he was drifting. When April turned and shouted at him, he wasn't clear what she was saying, his head still in the mist of his own imagination. Gus flew in like an unskilled bird. His knee connected with the back of Valentine's head as he dove, unable to alter the path he was taking through the air. The lifeguard wasn't paying attention, his own mind in the mist of his own fantasy, involving April's older sister.

Gus tried to pull Valentine upwards, but couldn't raise his head out of the water. A moment or two later the Lifeguard has burst the surface tension of the pool to do his best to save him.

After being asked to back up, the people re-crowded around the limp body of Valentine Vettraiano. The Lifeguard brought his lips down over Valentine's own blue lips and pumped his chest rhythmically.

As his soul fluttered out of his body, Valentine couldn't help thinking that with April kissing him, his soul might have had a chance. Without being able to breathe, a kiss from April might have made his heart flutter alive and his lungs fill with air again. The perfume of her shampooed hair, his entrance back to life. Just like his Mother had said. 'How you can't quite breathe without a kiss from the person you have set your heart on.'

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