Like a Burning Cup of Hot Cocoa

Hungry? Thirsty?

I opened the chest freezer, breathing in the chill. Two large packages of frozen veggies and a box of colored popsicles were our only choices. And the popsicles had expired last summer. My freezing hands went back into my pockets. The garage wasn’t much warmer than the inside of the freezer.

Disregarding the cold, Nelly draped over the edge of the freezer. “I’m hungry.”

I lifted the bags of veggies, just in case there was a slab of bacon hidden underneath. My hands hurt.

He rolled her head on her forearm to look up at me, pouting. “In the beer fridge downstairs?”

“We’ve already picked through everything.”

I tried getting her to move so I could close the freezer, but she reached in to grab the popsicles instead. “I want food delivery.”

“And they’re gonna drive over which bridge?” We’d been isolated since the storm took out the bridge heading into town.

Nelly pulled out one of the popsicles, squeezing it in her hand. “I’m hungry.”

“They said the storm will calm down by the weekend.”

“Deer,” she muttered. “Deer have meat.”

“And very strong legs to run away with.”

“A bullet’s faster.”

“Yes, yes.” I refrained from pointing out that she’d gotten rid of my gun when we married. I tried getting the popsicle out of her hands, but my skin was already freezing, my fingers couldn’t hold on. “We’ll go get food as soon as the weather clears. Please just be patient.”

She scowled, throwing the popsicle onto the veggie packs, but stayed draped over the open freezer like she wanted to crawl inside. Well, it wasn’t like anything in there would melt in these temperatures. If anything, I was more likely to join them.

I went to grab a water bottle from the shelf. An emergency stack we’d kept for parties.

“Babe…” Nelly smiled, a bright, toothy grin. “I could go chat up the neighbor past the giant oak. Maybe he’ll sell us some meat.”

I snorted. “The one who makes those creepy jokes when you jog by in the morning?”

Her grin turned to a sneer. “Right. Stabbing him works too.”

“Nelly.” The joke felt even more unreal coming from her than the bit about shooting a deer.

“I’m hungry!”

I uncapped the water bottle, surprised it wasn’t frozen solid. “Yes, I know.”

“No, you don’t.” She stalked towards me, reaching over my shoulder to grab a paper bag from the shelf. Out of the bag came the light green jar with the contaminated health supplement that had changed our lives.

“I thought you’d gotten rid of that.”

She stared down at the green jar, cradling it against her. “I think you should take it too.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Why would I—”

“Be like me?” She shoved the jar at me with enough strength to make my chest hurt. “Why do I have to be the only one? You said we’d be together no matter what. You said you’d do anything for me.”

“Nelly.” Yes, I’d said those words. But that was years ago, when we got married. “Within reason.”

“Reason?” She slammed the jar against my chest again. “Is it reasonable that I’m starving?”

“A few more days and—”

“I’m hungry!” She slammed the jar against my head.

The world turned dark as it whirled. I fell against the musty old mattress we had yet to get rid of.

Eyes wide, Nelly kneeled on the mattress. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Trembling fingers reached for my temple.

I pushed her hand away, struggling to sit up without dislodging her. She was almost on top of me. Thankfully, the door to the house was closed.

“I think it’s because I’m just so…” She paused, staring down at my temple.

The wound stung when I touched the side of my head, and my fingertips came back stained red.

“I’m just so…” Her words trailed again, and the red I’d only seen a few times swirled in her iris.

I wanted to push her away. I desperately wanted her off me. But this was my wife, my lovely, precious, Nelly. “Nel?”

She groaned, trying to melt into me. “I’m just so hungry.”

I held her wrists between us. Still in her hands, the jar pressed against my chest. “I know you are.”

Nelly put her weight into it, almost pushing me down.

Once upon a time, Nelly had been frail.

I flipped her onto the side of the mattress that upturned along the wall. I stood up, releasing her wrists.

“You’re too cruel,” she said. “This is all your fault. Do you even love me?”

Once upon a time, Nelly had been kind.

She went to wipe at her face and stopped, staring at her fingers. Some of my blood had smeared along her fingertips. Dazed, she licked her fingers and the swirl of red grew stronger. I shuddered, taking a step back. He was, in the end, also meat.

“Are you going to leave me now?” Her voice sounded more like a growl.

Once upon a time, Nelly had been human.

She lunged at me. I threw her off, her nails leaving a deep gouge on my neck. There was only red left in her eyes as she came at me again. I stumbled back, grabbing the sheers off the wall.

She didn’t dodge. I didn’t hold back.

There wasn’t as much blood as I expected.

She was still as light as a feather. Lighter still. Maybe she had really been starving.

Nelly, my once-beautiful love, was now a forever snarling monster laid to rest among two packs of frozen vegetables and a box of expired popsicles. But maybe she hadn’t been my Nelly for a while now. I hadn’t been able to give her the answer she wanted, to give my life for hers. Maybe she was right. Maybe I never loved her enough in the first place.

I took off my hoodie and pants, flipping the mattress over and moving it to cover the dark red stain on the floor. That would have to do for now.

I used up a few bottles of water to wash my hands and face. The sheers I tossed into the freezer. That would have to be good enough for now. I wanted to close her eyes, but part of me was afraid she would latch onto my hand like in an old horror movie.

I was down to my t-shirt and underwear, but the cold in the garage felt like nothing now. It had already seeped into my mind and soul. I put on my dirty coveralls before finally heading back into the house.

The TV blared in the living room, just as it did before I’d gone to check the freezer. I locked the garage door, intent on sneaking up the stairs.

“Papa, I’m hungwy.”

The words, as familiar as grubby little hands pulling at my nose, stopped me cold. Had I wiped all the blood off my face and hands?

Evie sauntered over, pulling at my overalls. “Garden?”

“Papa was just playing dress-up. Do you want a hot cocoa while papa gets lunch ready?”

She wiggled happily up and down.

“Momma make it!”

“Mommy went out for a bit. I’ll make it for you.” On automatic, I grabbed the milk and her favorite kitty mug. I’d have to tell her something about Nelly. The microwave beeped. For now, I could say she’d gone to visit the grandparents. Warmth radiated from the milk as I poured in the cocoa powder.

A door creaked.

The spoon clinked on the side of the mug as I turned. In my nightmare, Nelly was standing there, grinning. But no, the garage door was undisturbed.

Evie closed the pantry, carrying over an unfamiliar aluminum container. “Momma’s cocoa.”

I grabbed the container, taking it with me to the sink. When I opened the lid, the odd metallic scent I’d associated with that weird health supplement wafted into the air. I threw it all down the sink, squeezing a quarter of the detergent along with it. If I could have jammed the container itself into the garbage disposal, I would have. I cursed Nelly as I never had when she was living. How many of these things had she hidden around the house?

Crash.

The kitty mug was on the floor, shattered into countless pieces, never to be whole again. I rushed over with the first towel I could grab. A pool of cocoa lay at Evie’s feet. “Don’t move. Are you hurt?”

I wiped at her pajamas, but the shards didn’t seem to have hit her. The milk wasn’t too hot either.

“Papa, hurt.”

I looked up at her.

Red swirled in her eyes, dark blood dripping from her mouth along with the cocoa. “I’m hungwy.”

My chest, which had started to thaw, froze once again. She looked ready to cry, but no tears came.

“It’s okay.” I wiped at her face with the towel, helping her step away from the broken mug.

“It’s okay.” The second one was for myself.

I grabbed the chef’s knife from the knife block. “Papa needs to go talk to the neighbor.”

Marilia Bonelli has had several wonderful short stories published in several anthologies. She toils away currently on a what was once a trilogy, but keeps growing against her will…