"Chocolate" -- July 24

Word count: 600

Chocolate

“Are these all the kinds of chocolate you have?”

The employee looked up at Matt with a quizzical expression. “No, this is it.”

“All right. Thanks.”

As the employee walked away, Matt leaned over and studied the shelf of chocolates. He blinked sleep out of his eyes. It was 1 a.m., and the fluorescent lights of the corner store glared off the snow piled against the windows.

Milk chocolate.

Dark chocolate.

Semisweet chocolate.

Melting snow dripped off his scarf into a puddle on the floor as he tried to remember what kind Brittney liked. Matt had painful memories of his last midnight run—and the hour of sobbing when he returned with the wrong kind.

“I’m sorry,” Brittney had said, burying her face in his shirt. “It’s not your fault.”

Matt pushed aside a handful of packages of milk chocolate. He struggled to remember. Did she like dark chocolate or semisweet—or was it white chocolate? Brittney had not answered his text.

Not white chocolate. Matt picked up two packages, one of dark and one of semisweet. He checked out and tucked the bags in his pocket, wrapping his scarf more tightly around his neck.

Outside, snowflakes flickered through Matt’s headlights, floating on the breeze. He drove home as quickly as he dared, sliding on the slick streets.

The porch light shone through an increasingly thick slurry of snowflakes. Matt jumped out of the car and hunched his shoulders around his ears as he jogged toward the door.

Neither he nor Brittney had gotten a good night’s sleep in almost a week. He hoped the chocolate would buy him a few more hours of precious sleep—and hopefully Brittney, too.

Wrapped in half a dozen blankets, Brittney waited for him on the couch. Matt turned on a lamp as he walked in. She struggled upright, looking at him with red, puffy eyes.

“Did you get it?”

Matt had learned never to ask Brittney if she’d been crying. Instead, he shed his coat, brushing stray snowflakes from his shoulders and pants, and sat beside her on the couch. He handed her the two packages.

“I couldn’t remember which one you liked,” he said, rubbing her swollen stomach. A tiny foot kicked beneath his hand.

“Thanks, Matt.” Brittney held the packages to the light. She handed the dark chocolate back to him with a short laugh. “These are nasty.”

He tossed the package to the other side of the couch, allowing himself to let out a sigh of relief. No tears. “Do you want something to drink?”

Brittney mumbled “no” through a mouthful of semisweet chocolate. She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m like this.”

Matt held her close. She was warm and his eyes began to close. A quiet rustle across the room crossed his mind, but didn’t register.

“Matt, stop crinkling the package.”

“I’m not—”

“Stop, please.”

Matt opened his eyes. On the other side of the couch, a long-legged spaniel made eye contact with him and wagged his tail slowly. The second package of chocolates lay open between his front paws.

“Henry!” Matt pushed Brittney’s head aside and lunged for the dog, digging soft, goopy chocolate out of its mouth with his fingers. “Bad dog!”

“Henry?” Brittney sat bolt upright, a smear of chocolate on her mouth. “Did he swallow it?”

“Bad dog!”

“He’s going to die!” Brittney burst into tears.

His own tears prickled at the back of Matt’s throat as he scooped the dog up and headed to the sink to wash out his mouth. It was going to be another long night.