rum whispers

"MILK,EGGS AND FLOUR AND DON'T FORGET THE CHOCOLATE!!!"

Mom's handwriting is surely a masterpiece,especially on this off white small piece of paper on which she wrote the ingredients for her new cake recipe.I've been walking in circles for the past 20 minutes,searching for MY favourite chocolate,because the secret for a brilliant dessert isn't love or passion,but just a great,and when I say GREAT,GREAT chocolate.

When I finally got to the baking aisle,a bunch of ladies in their mid thirties were searching for the exact same chocolate brand,which unfortunately,the shop ran out of.

"Do you mind giving me your bar of chocolate? I guess I need it more than you do anyway."

"Oh really?You think that the holidays' joy will warm my heart and persuade me to give away a fine chocolate,which I also happen to need!?"

Even though it seemed funny to eavesdrop on their little argument over a chocolate bar,yes people,a chocolate bar,I came up with an idea that not even them could: go to the "off-limits zone" and find a chocolate bar for myself,by myself. Easier said than done as nowadays,every shop,even the small 24\7 ones have an uncountable number of employees,and some of them happen to check for "intruders". The off-limits zone isn't as promising as it sounds.Especially if you're in a hurry because nothing is where it's supposed to be; milk between toys and books stuck near some old nail polish,which not only ruins your appetite,but it makes you question yourself if you can trust or use anything from here. Anddd the icing on the cake,the light was on the edge of dying,which sounds rather poetic than as terrifying as it was.

The presence of the dark didn't help much with the shopping but I still found my untouched bar of dark chocolate,in a packaging and all,so I thought that if I went straight to the cashier,my journey here would remain a secret which I only shared with you. But as always,there has to be some sort of an obstacle you have to overcome until you can rest,like a deep voice telling you to "stop where you are and drop the chocolate bar".

I let loose of the chocolate and turn around slowly,facing a tall,not skinny but fit figure with broad shoulders and of course,wearing the store's regular uniform,a dark red blouse with black cargo pants. Our eyes met for a second there,each one of us breaking the eye contact before it would get more awkward.

"You can't read signs,can you?"he asks me with an expressionless face and a judging gaze studying me for a second.

As a response,a giggle came out unexpected,which quite annoyed him even more,so without any other words, he came closer to my shopping cart and started rummaging between MY stuff.

"Oh,you must be a great baker from what I see" he whispers while still judging mom's handwriting

"Yeah,well we can call it that,and that's what I was doing here.I'm not an illiterate,I just chose to ignore the sign so I could find the chocolate.But if you mind and your only goal is to disturb a great baker from their chores,then go on!" I tried to talk my way out of any punishment there would be.My brain finally started working rationally and found a way to distract the employee while I silently back away from there.I knew what was supposed to be his weakness,he looked like a passionate reader so I tried to use his "Achille's heel"

"What's your favourite book?" I ask calmly,waiting for his respone

"Excuse me?You wouldn't think that I didn't catch the sudden subject change,would you?"

"It's just a random question,don't stress yourself out over it; a grin shows up on his face as I lean over the shopping cart.I can't spend all of my time with you!"

A soft giggle comes from behind my back,and we turn around to see an old man with a beard standing with his hands on his hips,giving us disappointed looks. "I don't think that your job is client service so get back to your post,William,and you,misterious crazy costumer,get what you need and leave this place!".

In his tone you could hear pure anger but his face said otherwise,which made me believe he's not one of us,rather an alien who came here to study us, the inferior species.

The dark red uniform guy ,whose name is actually William,leaves me alone,which is exactly what I wanted from the beginning,right? Yet,a part of me quite wanted to hear the answer to my stupid question and get to know him better,because outside that "working attitude",he seemed like a great guy to be around.

"Anyways,my mom won't be too pleased if I am late again" I mutter under my breath and head towards the exit. But all the funky decorations in the shop and the warm lights which made even a piece of paper appealing didn't make it easier for me to forget that Christmas is spent in family,not on your own. The whole "chocolate quest" was more of a distraction than anything would be for me,at least for now.,and it felt as if I could actually reconnect with my mom through the muddy recipe.

Maybe it's due to the holiday's spirit or the fact that chocolate really makes me happy but I got to confess,I lied: a good cake has its secrets and love IS one of them. (but not too much so you don't choke on it)

While slidding through the crowded rows,the noise accompanied by carols and the chocolate divine smell gave me a deja vu. I could picture it perfectly :my mom and I,both of us baking this exact same cake in the Christmas Eve,trying to figure out a way to put both chocolate and rum in it.(we never came up with a sollution but we liked the time we spent together).

The smell of rum,the softness of her voice,the feel of the counter,the giggles,each one of them too real,as if I was still laughing harder than ever with baking paper in my hand right then. But right during my most intimate moment,the only one way I could feel my mom's presence again,I had to be disturbed again,by THE deep voice.Just that this time it wasn't in person ,and he got to the public microphone and spoke

"The hunger games series. I couldn't just choose one,they are all masterpieces in their own way,but you got your answer."his voice travels through the entire store,but it feels refreshing.

Multiple confused looks were being exchanged by the people in the store,and then I saw the two ladies who were fighting over the magic bar,laughing histerically.A man behind me unironically asked " Who reads anymore?" He's not a human either so he can go shake hands with the old manager.

For my surprise,he continued talking,unbothered by the fact that I'm not the only one who could hear his confessions.

" Mostly I enjoyed it because it isn't as dystopian as people think it is. It's just reality written in fancier words and some characters's name are changed due to copyright reasons. I also read a lot of Kafka,especially now that I’ve learned more about his history,and I’m a huge fan of Dostoievsky’s work as well,because he potraits every single emotion perfectly,in a way I couldn’t in a lifetime.”

A wave of silence hit us again,but this time I could hear his heavy breathing through the microphone.As he didn’t say anything,I thought that would be all: well I was so wrong .

“What about you? Do you read or was it just a stupid question only dumb people would fall for?”his voice sound raspy this time,quite desperate,which made me think of any way I could talk back to him.

I always thought that the microphones and the audio system in a store is overlooked by loads of people,but never really paid attention to the way it functions,so today was the day.Running to the first free cash register was really a challenge,as everyone in the store believed that THEY were being asked about their favourite book,and the best one would win a big prize,enough to feed 10 families for 2 months. I grabbed the microphone,checked out the area which seemed free and then I realized that I didn’t give him an answer.But for his peace of mind,I was not sure myself what my favourite book is,so what could I answer?

“To be honest with you,a book I adored with my whole heart and soaked up every word of it has to be Animal Farm,but I never want to see a movie adaptation on that one because I just know it would get ruined.Especially that pigs talking would be a pretty funny thing to see and we wouldn’ t focus at all on the story’s message,that we become what we fear and despise,against our beliefs or ideals.” If I hadn’t embarrassed myself by then,I clearly accomplished it successfully,but I didn’t regert a word ,because it was the truth I stand by to this day.

Even though I could see William and he could see me too,we preferred talking through the microphones,until none of us had anything to say,which made me want to leave the store.My car was parked outside for more than 2 hours,,but it wouldn’t move for at least half an hour,with me laying on my seat and staring at the pretty sunset. This was more than enough time for me to rethink my life full of dumb choices ,which were made impulsively by me,with no more than 2 minutes of meditating.Maybe William was right,maybe The hunger games series itself wasn’t based on reality,and the reality was based on it,but that’s not the point. As much as I loved his book taste,this wasn;t about it.His gesture was enough proof for me that if you really care about someone or something,you dedicate your whole soul to it and if you’re tired,you take a break,not quit.The speech I gave at the store gave me an crazy idea too,I didn’t want to become what I feared,not until I was at peace with it.It took time but I was doing it for her, I couldn’t lose anything more if I drived 10 minutes to a sacred place,where I’ve only been once and tried to bury the memory of it as deep as I could. It took me more than 10 minutes to calm down and decide wheter I step outside the car or remain in there.

The cold numbing air was making it harder for me to breath slowly and my heartbeat increased but my steps were as steady as ever.Intimidating graves in each shape possible were blocking my sight of the sunset which was slowly disappearing. If it wasn’t already discouraging,my soul was getting drunk with cold water,trying to ignore the coldness coming from the only member of the family who still loved me no matter what. As close as I could get to her grave,I could still feel a a bridge that neither of us wanted to cross.Yes,I was talking to a stone the whole time and yes,the wind did in fact made it harder for me to understand my mom’s whispers,but I stood there still,waiting for the clock to turn 12.

We did, in fact,celebrated Christmas togheter,with or without cake.