Hot Chocolate

September 6, 2021

Barbie Jean was of a habit of asking her Mama all sorts of questions about her Daddy, every time it was near his birthday, and this time her question brought to mind a special memory. "What made you fall in love with him?," asked Barbie Jean to her Mother. Her Mother could see in her daughter's wide dark chocolate eyes that she just especially needed to know, and wanted to know with all her heart. It was just a day or so past his birthday, and they both were seated by the large kitchen window drinking hot chocolate. "I am not so certain it was any one thing," Barbie Jean's Mother began, "but it had a lot to do with how he treats me, how we get along, our trust in one another, our shared goals, and our similar interests. I will tell you a story about it." Barbie Jean smiled with a grin, that was looking just like her Father's, as her Mother began the story...

--His skin looked like chocolate in the light of the setting sun, as they stood there at the door waiting to enter their favorite restaurant. It was their fifth anniversary together, and they were smiling and filled with joy. The afternoon had been filled with all their favorite activities from dancing and singing, to strolling the park and the art museum; it had simply been the most perfect day.

It wasn't long before they were seated and being served. The waiter had just brought their orders, when she noticed her beloved grinning at her from across the table. "My beautiful snow white," he exclaimed at her, "You are my eclipsed moon, and I am still enchanted by your sparkling amber eyes and raven curls." "Feeling poetic," she told him with a smile, "I love you too." He smiled at her response, and turned his gaze to his dinner plate for a moment. "You know," he said to her, "I have never minded what anyone has to say, and am still surprised by the acceptance our families have for our differences." "Feeling reflective," she mused, knowing he was about to have a serious discussion about the intricacies of their relationship, as he attempted to make a point about how they belonged together. She thought on this a moment, and decided to turn the subject around before the romantic day turned into a lengthy salutary discussion.

"Do you recall the black and white painting at the gallery?," she asked him, as she realised this would not have the result she was aiming for. "The one with the roses, or the patterned one?," he asked back. She hadn't realised there had been two paintings that fit the description. "I meant the patterned one," she replied. "Oh," he said, "I found the other far more provocative." "Where was the rose one located?," she asked him, "I am having trouble placing it in my mind." "It was by the door at the exit," he told her, "It was placed to the left and above the light switch. It was small and hidden in the shadows."

There was some silence between them as they both started eating their meals. He had a steak, medium rare with a soda, salad, and bread, and she had red wine, fish, a tomato aspic, and herbed rice. "I contemplated as I gazed at that painting about us," he told her, "and how people may wonder what ever brought two very different people in appearance together. But, they would not know all we have in common, or how truly different we really are. Yet, there is no one else I would rather be with." She had to find a shy smile for that declaration.

They had just finished their meals, and were contemplating dessert, when he spoke again, "Someday, when we have a child, I look forward to telling them all about how we met, fell in love, and love each other despite all our differences." "What sort of things would you tell them?," she asked him. "First, let us order some pie for dessert," he grinned at her. Soon, their pieces of pie had arrived, and he had apple, and she had cherry, and they had both decided to accompany their pie with chocolate ice cream.

Abruptly mid bite, he said, "I would tell them that we met at a concert I was performing in, that you were a photographer that night. How we spent lazy afternoons singing together, and discovering that we both loved thriller horror movies and dancing." "All that," she replied. "Oh, and so much more," he answered, "But most importantly I would tell them about our real difference, and that differences are what make the world beautiful." Again, she had to smile at his thoughts. "I have always adored our inner differences myself," she told him. "You know," he said to her, "the moon is full tonight." "Is it?," she replied and then mused, "I hadn't paid attention, I suppose I will have to fly home on my own then?" "I think we will make it to our destination," he responded, as he waved for the waiter to bring the check.

They were about half way home when a stranger passing by gave them a curious glance, and snickered under their breath. He growled at that, but she held his hand tighter encouraging him to continue walking home with her. They were about a block away, when he turned to her and said with a sneer, "You think they hadn't seen a werewolf out with a vampire before?" They both laughed at that, as he reached the drive to their home, just as the moon was peeking out from a cloud. She said to him, "But I have always loved wolves." Turning to her with his now yellow eyes and fuzzy face, he sneered, "And I have always loved you, my eclipsed moon."

--"So you love Daddy because he is a wolf, Mama?," asked Barbie Jean. "No, I love him, because he noticed the rose painting, and thought it was representative of our love," she told her daughter, "Our differences make us beautiful." "Do you ever worry that like Uncle Twix, he won't come home from a hunter's silver piece?," she asked with a worried look toward her Mama, and then out the window at the full moon. "No," said her Mother, "Because my love made him immune to such things. The hunter is the one who would be in danger." "Is that why Daddy's eyes turn Yellow?," Barbie Jean asked her Mama. "Yes," said her Mother.

...The End...

By: LC Harrison