Chocolate Reckoning

We grew up in a simple home, a home filled with plain things. There was no TV, no fine china and most days no shoes on the calloused feet of that ten year old boy running down the streets of Jackson, Mississippi. Jackson was a pretty plain place to grow up; most folks didn’t have much. My brothers and I had learned to make lots out of nothin. There were four of us—my older brother Charlie who was fourteen, my eight year old brother Ryan, the four year old—Jake, and me. I’m sure you can imagine just how inventive four boys growing up in the backwoods of nowhere can be. My momma always said, “Less is more—Johnny”, anytime I’d complain about what we didn’t have. I always thought it was because it made her feel better about what she couldn’t give us, and maybe it was, but I’m beginning to think there might have been a lot more to what she had to say.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Charlie and I were running an errand for momma one afternoon after school. She had asked us to stop by the gas station on the way home to pick up a loaf of bread. We had two dollars she had given us that morning before school. Of course Charlie was in charge of the money, and I would be put in charge of carrying the bread. When we arrived at the gas station, some of Charlie’s friends were gathered outside. He handed me the two dollars and gloated, “Go get the bread twerp” as he wandered over to his friends. Resentfully, I opened the door. I hated being the little brother that was always bossed around. Shuffling my feet as I walked the aisles to find the bread, a sudden thought occurred to me… “I had the money, that meant I was in charge”. I darted toward the candy aisle. Candy! Lots of candy filled my eyes. At home momma didn’t believe in candy; mints were the closest thing to candy momma would ever let us have. Plain old white mints. There was nothing plain about the candy that was on this aisle—there was candy of all colors, shapes and sizes, but I knew what I was looking for—Chocolate! I grabbed the biggest chocolate bar I could find, ran to the counter and almost threw the two dollars at the lady standing behind the cash register. There was no time to grab the change. I exited out the back door and began to devour the deliciously smooth rich chocolate, savoring every bite. I must have been doing it with my eyes closed because the next thing I knew Charlie had a hold of my shoulders and threw me to the ground. “Where did you get that”, he shouted, “and where is the bread?” Lying on my back on the hot concrete, with chocolate smeared around my lips and the dark shadow of my older brother looming over me was not the perfect picture I had imagined minutes earlier as I exited out the back door. “Man Charlie,” I retorted, “now it’s covered in dirt.”

“And you’re going to be covered in a whole heap more if you don’t have the bread!”, he growled. I proceeded to peel myself off the concrete, dusting the dirt from my extremities and licking the chocolate from my lips. “Well I don’t have it”, I said with a sly confidence—-knowing I was the younger brother and that mom had given him the money expecting him to be responsible. Anyway, he had left me to do the work while he mingled with friends. Charlie stood fuming in front of me, I could almost see the smoke billow from his ears. “What now?” I chimed. Charlie grabbed me by the collar and proceeded to drag me back into the store, down the aisle and up to the cashier. “Mam, I need to apologize for my little brother's actions, '' he started, “it seems he spent our two dollars for bread on a chocolate bar and Momma’s expecting a loaf of bread for dinner tonight.” I just stood quietly waiting to see how things played out.

The woman stared a whole right through me, cutting me with her eyes; I could tell she wanted to grab me up herself and wear me out. She didn’t say anything, just turned to my brother and pointed to a sign behind the counter that read… “Kitty’s Annual Cake Eating Contest…today at 4pm.” All I could think was “cake?…really she was offering cake at a time like this?” Charlie looked confused, but continued to read…”Winner receives $5.00.” It was then that his face changed as he turned to me and said “I hope you saved room for some cake.” Again I was being dragged by my shirt collar towards Kitty’s Kitchen on a downtown corner in Jackson, MS. When we arrived, a crowd of people were gathered on the street corner in front of a table filled with cakes. Adjacent to the table of cakes was a table with chairs. “It’s 3:58, we better not be too late,” Charlie breathed under his breath. “Wait, we have one more contestant,” he yelled above the crowd. Kitty smiled and took me by the hand, placing me in one of the open chairs at the table. “Eat your heart out,” Charlie muttered as he placed his hands on my shoulders. Just then the other contestants took their places at the table too. I didn’t even want to know who I was up against. I just knew I had to win or Charlie and Momma were going to eat me. Kitty placed the first slice of chocolate cake in front of each of us, and began to give the rules: “Each contestant has a whole chocolate cake to eat, it has been cut into ten slices… the first one to devour all ten… is Kitty’s Kitchen Cake Champion of the year. Don’t forget you have a glass of milk to wash it down. Contestants are you ready?…You have your cake—now eat it too!”, she finished and a whistle blew. I began to shove chocolate cake down my throat as fast as my fingers could move. The first and second slice weren't so bad, but by slice number three I could appreciate the plain things momma gave us—pound cake sounded so much better right now. I couldn’t guzzle enough plain milk to drown the rich thick chocolate that was permanently stuck to the roof of my mouth. Slice four and five had me slowing down and wishing I had never walked in to that gas station that afternoon. Charlie taunted, “Don’t stop now you gotta be the breadwinner remember.” The word bread made me sick to my stomach, I couldn’t possibly eat another piece. As I finished slice number six I could feel it starting to climb back out the way it went in. I leaned over the table and hurled. It made room for number seven but eight was another challenge. I could hear the other contestants around me losing their lunch too. Just the sound of them heaving had me back over the table. I was swimming in chocolate vomit, and if the next slice wasn’t the death of me. I knew a death by Charlie or Momma would soon follow, so I kept eating. I guessed I’d rather die by eating chocolate than face the wrath of Charlie or Momma for the rest of my life. As I went to take the next bite of slice number eight, I heard Ms. Kitty shout, “We have a winner!” I didn’t know whether to be relieved that I had been saved by the bell or to start planning my funeral. So I just collapsed onto the floor.

Again I found myself lying on my back on the hot concrete, this time covered in a mixture of chocolate and throw-up, staring up at that shadow of darkness—Charlie. I could hear Momma’s words, “Less is more—Johnny”, ringing in my ears.

When I finally came back to reality, Charlie didn’t look as angry as I thought he would and it seemed he was saying something, but I couldn’t quite make out the words. Maybe it was due to the cheers of the crowd or maybe it was just the slight sugar coma I was coming out of, but when things finally came into focus, I could see he was holding two dollar bills. “You did it kid, you came in third place and managed to get our two dollars back.” His hands went back around my shirt collar as he pulled me to my feet. Well I guessed today I wouldn’t die after all: not by chocolate, not by Charlie and not by Momma. However, a little death was involved that day. The death of chocolate. My love of chocolate was left in a puddle of puke on that hot concrete. I would never again eat chocolate and a love of plain things would be brought to life in me. To this day even the smell of chocolate makes my stomach churn.