Saturday's Storyteller: "The taste of bitter chocolate always..."

by Belinda Roddie

The taste of bitter chocolate always lingered in Dorothy's mouth, no matter what she ate or drank. It never went away. And the truth was, she hadn't touched chocolate in over twenty-three years. The twenty-fourth year was looming closer. And yet the flavor of dark cacao remained on her tongue.

She brewed herself a cup of tasteless broth that she supposed was meant to be tea and sat down across from the ashy hearth. On the mantel was a picture of her son, in full Marine uniform. Lester had loved chocolate. It had practically been his three meals a day when he was a child. Once, when Dorothy had sifted through her heavy collection of photo albums, she had found a black and white shot of Lester at the tender age of six, the corners of his lips browned by a milkshake at The Fat Walrus, the local diner. She distinctly remembered one of his favorite pastimes before deciding to shape up for the military: Sitting on the couch watching TV, pouring tube after tube of M&M minis into his mouth.

Now, Dorothy couldn't stand eating chocolate. And yet, there she was, tasting Hershey's and Nestle's and the local "organic" stuff from the farmer's market that she used to buy. Twenty-three years after receiving Lester's uniform, all folded up, and the splinters never seemed to want to leave her palate.

She was about to head to her room when she heard a knock on the door. It was Lucy, her decrepit neighbor who made Dorothy look like Marilyn Monroe. She had simply wanted to stop by to offer an invitation to the next card game at her house, next Saturday. Dorothy tentatively agreed. Perhaps a night away from her small house would do wonders for her mood. Besides, she always enjoyed a good, hearty game of poker.

She did not expect Lucy's husband, Alan, to have a vicious sweet tooth. And when he came to the door gnawing on a chili chocolate bar the night of the game, Dorothy was ready to smash his head into the hinge and crack his skull. All the smells came back to her now - the odors of sugar and milk and cream and spice. Hot chocolates on Sunday mornings after church and candy bars bought at the general store after school. That constant stained smile from Lester, long before something redder stained the front of his shirt.

"Want some?" Alan asked between mouthfuls of bitter chocolate.

This week's prompt was provided by Kyle Oathout.