A re-post disclaimer: To follow is a re-post. Note that, thanks to your wise advice, I have given up the re-date thing. It's no good. You are right. I am doing a re-post, though, because this piece was accepted for publication. I only had about 2 followers when I initially posted it, and I was one of them. My sister was the other. I'm still paying her off for that one too. Any way, I hope you enjoy The Kiss. Sometimes, they do save a gal's life.
Waiting for that phone call, I go ballistic. We hadn’t seen each other in 4-1/2 days. That’s it. We’re doomed. He must be dead, I think, as I put down my phone. Why else would I be getting that damn outgoing message for the sixth time this past hour? He didn’t have time to talk yesterday. He’s not available for dinner tomorrow. If he’s still alive, he’s going to dump me. I’m on fire as I scramble through the kitchen cabinets, shoving aside a zillion Rubber made containers of all dimensions, tossing over my shoulder a dozen or so lids that appear to match none of them, creating an interesting menagerie on my white tile floor. Damnit! There’s got to be one freaking piece of chocolate somewhere in my apartment. The walls come crashing in on me. My heart is racing. Tears stream down my cheeks and drop onto the tiles with a thunder. I just can’t find that See’s candies box I got last summer.
But in one shining moment, it all lifts. A euphemistic calm pervades every cell of my being. A white rectangular box. Could that be an “S” I see on the lid? And an “e,” a double “e” in fact? I clench this once unattainable yet so desperately craved and, moreover, mandatory possession. I pull it onto the open, greedy palms of my anxious hands. I inhale the sweet, luscious, orgasmic morsels that I am beyond ready to ravage. With anticipation and purpose, I open the box. With fury and shock verging on psychosis, I stare at the cluster of empty brown perforated wrappers put back neatly into their rightful places. How could this be? How could my life have possibly spiraled downward to such a helplessly dismal place?!
While I stare at the empty wrappers with not a fragment of chocolate on them, a layer of doom envelopes my already plagued existence. The phone rings. It’s him. As I continue staring into the cabinet, I remember that I should probably be relieved the guy isn’t dead. “Hello” I say, as I reach for a Hershey’s kiss in silver wrapping that had hidden itself behind the See’s candies box for an amount of time that had absolutely no relevance. I don’t even remember having taken the wrapper off, as my tongue welcomes the taste of precious, succulent chocolate. “I’m doing great,” I proclaim, wiping a drop of saliva off my chin. “How are you?”
