I hope that you will all forgive me for posting a day late, but yesterday I was having too much fun for Mother’s Day. I hope everyone else had fun with their moms too!
Please enjoy the next installment of “Something You Can’t Forget.”
With Screams and Axes,
SOMETHING YOU CAN’T FORGET
That next morning, Melissa filled a metal colander full of fresh strawberries and watched the golden light from the morning sun play in the stream of cool water she held them under. She washed the berries under the water gently, smelling the sweetness that she could almost taste. She let the fruit dry on the rack and went over to the chocolate dipper to turn the temperature knob up and melt the chocolate. She set the tray with the fruit on the counter of the dipper, snapped a pair of rubber gloves over her hands and grabbed a small wooden skewer. She pierced the head of a strawberry and dipped it in the chocolate pool, letting the warm aroma waft across her lips as she twirled the strawberry in smooth dark chocolate. She thought about what she would eat today and what she shouldn’t.
After the strawberries were dipped and their chocolate shells hardened, she set them in the glass display case and unlocked the double glass doors of the chocolate shop. She stood in the doorway for a moment listening to the soft sounds of the shopping mall in the morning. The elevator-music played to no one expect for a couple mall-walkers meandering the hallways, and the odd employee hurrying to their shop to punch in on time. Melissa was the manager of the chocolate shop. She had been promoted to the position six months ago when the original manager had quit with little notice. Melissa liked the job. Unlike many stores in the mall, hers was relatively quiet and slow except for Valentine’s Day and Christmas. Melissa had worked in the mall for a couple of years. The men who worked in the mall all seemed to know her before she knew them. She knew she was supposed to mind this, and sometimes she did, but most of the time she told herself that she didn’t.
This morning, Melissa sat behind the counter thinking about chocolates and how many calories were in a single truffle. Too many, she knew as she bit into one, breaking the delicate shell between her teeth. She instantly regretted the action, and considered spitting it out for a moment. But she didn’t. She felt the quick joy of the creamy sweetness on her tongue before it was gone and an anxious pit formed in her stomach. “It’s too late,” she thought. “I’ve already ruined the day.” She bit into another truffle and felt something frantic wretch itself free inside her mind. After her third truffle, she felt as though she might cry, and to remedy the situation she pushed the lunch she had packed for herself off the counter and into the trash can. She did the math in her head. If she could just stop, if she could keep herself from admitting she was hungry, then the day wouldn’t be completely lost. Melissa hated feeling hungry. Hunger was hollowness and pain, and she felt herself unable to endure it, unable to control it. But she always felt hungry, and the struggle not to eat, the debate in her mind over what to eat, and the snap when her spirit would rebel and go on a binge to satisfy itself made it even worse. She looked at the clock that read 10:30 a.m. and she knew the battle was over already. She hadn’t even made it to noon.