Chocolate Emergency

Aℓιcє'ѕ Tєαяѕ

                Alice's Tears

There was a wild frenzy of last minute preparation inside the humble apartment 303. A woman was rushing between the two lighted stoves, cooking potato gravy for her brother and soup for her husband. There was a sizzle as she tossed garlic and cloves into the hot saucepan.

"Akihiro," The woman spoke over the smoke, coughing and spluttering as the garlic began burning. "Will go check on Devlin and see if he's done packing?"

            A jet black haired man with rectangle framed glasses peaked from underneath the plastic wrapped sofa. "I can't, I'm kind of occupied,"

            "You just have to cover the furniture. Don't wrap it. Sheesh, he's going to Nepal for three month's not a decade,"

            "What if there is termite attack?" The glasses were beginning to fall off Akihiro's nose while a droplet of sweat trickled down his forehead. "Sarah, you don't understand the seriousness of this"

            Sarah gave him an incredulous look, not before turning her back towards him. She began chopping the cilantro. "You're such a perfectionist," She spoke under her breath. "Didn't you already spray every inch of wood in here with termicides?"

            "Well," His whispered in her ear. Sarah felt pressure against her back as Akihiro wound his arms around her waist. "Isn't that the reason you married me?"

            "True," She smiled to herself, twisting her body so she could face him. "But you seriously need to take a shower, you reek of termicide."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm sure you don't mind though,"

"I don't." She pushed his chest lightly. "I'll go check on Devlin. Keep an eye on the food,"

            "Of-course," He smiled.

△▼△▼△

                Devlin lay on his back, blinking, watching, and breathing in the cold air swimming from the outside. His American touristers were zipped and ready to go. But he wasn't ready to go, not yet. Something felt wrong.

He couldn't believe his mother, his life's strength, his anchor would do this to him. He lifted himself off the bed, like a wounded tiger, he groaned- as if there were knives and swords digging inside him.

His ebony fingers ran over the letter his mother had left him. The paper was slightly yellow and age-worn. Its corners were rough like the letter had survived many battles.

This was the last war the letter had to fight, the very last.

My Dear Devlin,

                I'm sorry, baby, I know by now you've been through hell and back. I'm sorry that I'm doing this to you but I have my reasons.

He began crying again, stars landed on the paper, smearing the ink, making a river of blue flow down the page.

If the doctors have given you this letter then it only means one thing, I've gotten worse and my Alzheimer's had progressed into its final days. I don't want to live a life as ghost, darling, I want to die in your memory as the mother who used laugh with you, not the one who doesn't remember her own son, her own family. I want to die with the little dignity I have left.

Why Nepal? You've must be asking yourself. Why does my mother want to die in Nepal? There are so many things I haven't told, there so many tales about my youth I want to tell you but I've run out of time like all of us do.