That Time Imogene Bought a Box of Chocolates and Dropped the Mike

Jeff did nothing for Valentine’s Day their entire marriage. No flowers, a simple box of candy, not even a card, because that was a waste of money.

“I can say those same words for free.” Which he never did.

 A box of chocolates was money spent frivolously, not including the boxes that Imogene gave Jeff every year; that was different.

“If you want a bouquet of flowers go pick the ones in your garden.”

The first year of their marriage, Imogene still worked. She sheepishly went to Ladies Intimate Moments Boutique & Day Spa. She never felt bad nor good about her figure until the teeny-tiny twenty something asked her if she needed any help looking for that special something for that special someone.

“Um.” Was all she could say.

“Well, you look like a size twelve. Follow me.”

The sales clerk looked like a size twelve, in the negative. Imogene realized her mistake coming here.

After two hours of trying on the right one-piece, two-piece, stockings with crotch, stockings without a crotch, garter belts, the layered look and the one size fits all, Imogene had found her Valentine gift to Jeff. A simple black one-piece teddy, black stockings that stopped at the higher end of her thighs, a garter belt, and a see-through wrap. Crotch attached. Two-hundred dollars later she shoved the bag in her trunk under the spare tire and cried her way home to the bottle of wine she had picked out for that special night.

Three days later, after buying a replacement bottle of wine, two hours in the shower, and three razor blades, Imogene slipped into Jeff’s gift. She paced around their tiny home with the curtains closed tight. She just knew their old neighbor, Mr. Marks, was watching.

Late as usual, Jeff came home smelling of stale beer and motor oil.

“Sorry I’m late. I went over to Kevin’s and helped him work on his lawnmower.

“In February?” Thought Imogene as she peered around his stained hands to see if he held anything special.

“What the hell do we have here?” Jeff moved towards Imogene with a perverted smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetie.” She took a step back.

“Oh, hell ya.” He pounced.

“Wait, go take a shower first. You smell like a gas station.”

“That can wait.” He picked up her sexy sized twelve and took her to the bedroom.

After about ten minutes later, his soft snoring told Imogene Valentine’s Day was over. There was no special token of his affection, and she had to take some frozen hotdogs out for dinner that night.

There were no special Valentine’s ever for Imogene.

Divorce is such an ugly creature. Jeff needed to move back into the house shortly after he had left to live with his much younger girlfriend. She kicked him out when her ex, who was twenty years younger than Jeff and with more stamina, had wanted her back. She dropped Jeff like a dirty tissue being flushed down the toilet.

He started telling Imogene all the things she was doing wrong with every aspect of her life. Including the grocery shopping. Seems Jeff became a bit more worldly living those three weeks on his own.

“I buy those cheaper English Muffins. They’re half the price.” He directs the attention over towards Imogene.

He gave an entire lecture of the great savings he had made purchasing English Muffins on his own. His proud chest puffed. His finger pointed. He made some bold statements all the while mocking Imogene. When at last, his finger rested on the table next to the empty plate that not ten minutes before held a meal that cost under ten dollars, was nutritious and delicious, Imogene spoke.

“Why Jeff, I don’t buy English Muffins.” In her mind, Imogene dropped the mike.

The time had come. Another “every-other-Friday” grocery shopping day. Times were tough; divorce isn’t cheap. Imogene held her list, sweaty in her left hand as she pushed her oversized shopping cart filled with next to nothing, fearful she might over spend. Jeff had started lecturing her on budgets, groceries, and how he knew better. It weighed on her at ten dollars a pound.

As she came out of isle six, the isle full of pickles, salad dressings, vinegar, and croutons, she saw it. The endcap of all things red, pink, lace, sugar, and Valentine’s Day. There in the middle of everything love, sat the largest box of chocolates she had seen. In its see-through, red cellophaned heart shaped box there sat nearly a pound of exquisite handmade chocolates. Chocolates filled with caramel, coconut, nugget, or simple solid chocolate. Pieces were drizzled with delicate thin lines of confection in colors of love. There were clumps of various nuts, oozing with dark chocolate, sitting in a, “not actual size,” cup of pretty paper. All of this, in a paper box meant to be given to someone you loved more than anything. Imogene’s first response was to start crying. Jeff had never even bought her a card on Valentine’s Day. Her second response felt more legit.

“Fuck it.” She tossed all twenty-five dollars in her cart. She didn’t hide it in the trunk. She carried it in and placed it in full view, of her closet. She left the grocery receipt in the checkbook. She knew Jeff would see the splurge. She also knew he would not say a word for some time. He would boil and perk but that was his issue. He would bring it up at some point when he could not stand it anymore.

“Well, are you going to share those candies or what?”

“Or what?” Imogene would reply. “Those were a gift. A gift to me from someone who loves me the most.”

With a snarky tone, “Oh, who the hell is that?” Grinning, he looks around like he is standing up behind the microphone.

“Me.” Imogene drops the mike.