Sol (sin) Luna

They had finally decided (after a stupid argument in the appliance section) on a nice and modern gunmetal grey double-door refrigerator. The kind where the freezer slides out like a drawer from the bottom. Now in the early hour of 2:23 a.m. on their anniversary morning, Solomon Diaz stood in the dark and empty kitchen staring into that freezer drawer, barely open a crack... Tears streamed down his cheeks. Cold fog and a faint light spilled out onto his bare feet and plaid pajama pants over the grey linoleum floor. He sniffled and swiped the back of his hand across his nose, nearly tilting his Boston Lager a bit too far, then catching himself, finally breaking the trance of his spiraling daze. He sniffled away the spite resignedly... “Whatever,” he muttered as he tipped back the bottle, draining it, and tossed it into the sink over his shoulder. It clattered to a stop amongst the piled dishes as he opened the freezer, hastily shaking loose a taped-up box from its icy frost catacomb. Some of the white cardboard ripped off, leaving a brown tattered strip stuck to the corner of the freezer shelf where it lay idle over the past year. Solomon grunted with mild annoyance. Setting the taped box on the counter with a dense thud, he pulled a heavy knife from the block and ran its sharp edge between the lid and the front panel, slicing through the scotch tape with almost comically little ceremony. “Voilà!”

He shuffled over to the silverware drawer and opened it. No clean forks. “Ugh…” Even the sink full of dirty dishes seemed to mock him in his perpetual futility. He rifled through the next drawer below and found a set of wrapped plastic utensils complete with a napkin and some salt & pepper packets. He shrugged, stuffing the whole thing into his pajama pocket. “Works,” he slurred as he stumbled backward, steadying himself with an outstretched hand which inadvertently found the kitchen knife he must have set down on top of the microwave. He placed it on the counter again. Stepping back up to the box, Sol inhaled shakily and tried not to grind his teeth, sliding his thumbs beneath the lid on either side and finally lifting it up and away from himself slowly. The tears flowed steadily now. His vision blurred as he watched them drop and splash over the white-lettered words “SOL y LUNA” carefully scripted atop the chocolate frosting of their wedding cake. Catching a faint glint of the knife to his right side, Solomon considered its clean sleekness for a moment. He rubbed a shoulder across his right cheek and shook his head wearily. “Nope.” He leaned forward and gripped the counter harder with both hands spread wide to steady himself. Heaving sobs struck him in the gut and sent him collapsing onto the cold kitchen floor. His knees felt too weak and too worn to carry him forward any farther. Lying on his back now, the room spun into pitch blackness.

His own snores woke him with a start. Sol glanced to the clock on the coffee maker… 4:44 a.m. “Hm... Yep. ‘Course it is.” Rolling to his side and pulling his frame upright, he rummaged in a cabinet under the counter and pulled out a paper plate. Slapping it down on the counter next to the chocolate cake, he pondered the minuscule droplets of condensation now dotting its otherwise flawless surface. “Thawed out now.” He took the kitchen knife again and clenched the handle between his teeth as he pulled the tabs through the folds along the sides of the cake box, dropping the front panel like a tailgate. With one hand flat on the back of the blade he centered the tip just beneath the scripted tail of the “y” on the cake’s center and split the bottom half in two, careful not to make a mark on the white-icing letters. Calculating as exact a 45-degree angle as he could eyeball, Solomon cut himself a beautiful slice of their chocolate wedding cake and eased it onto the paper plate with delicate care. Rinsing the knife and letting it clatter into the sink filled with dishes, Solomon folded the cake box back up. Opening another drawer, he pulled a tab of scotch tape off the dispenser, closed the box top and sealed it. Then he slid open the freezer drawer and returned the box to its corner. “Adios, amigos,” he chuckled dryly after the door slid closed and the light winked out. Ambient light danced in his eyes.

Solomon picked up his decadent slice of freshly thawed chocolate wedding cake and ripped a paper towel from the roll. He walked toward the back of the house, pulled open the sliding glass door, and trudged out to the patio. He turned the knob on their propane grill and waited for the clicks to produce that “whoosh” sound, then watched as the flames quickly licked away at the surrounding walls of darkness. Casting a glance behind at his long shadow, he scraped the feet of the nearest wicker chair across the cold cement until it was close enough for him to reach the stone ledge before slumping down into the seat with his feet up. Holding the paper plate on his lap, eyes closed, he prayed silently for a moment and then ripped open the plastic utensil set with his teeth. Spitting out the bits of bag his mouth came away with, Solomon fished out the black plastic fork and let the rest of the package drop to the patio ground.

Gazing at the full moon, distant and high in the Eastern sky, he cleared his throat and whispered through his warm tears as if she were next to him, “Happy Anniversary, Luna.” Silently awaiting her reply, yet knowing none would ever come again, Sol settled into this moment for all the meaning there was left to have in it. "God, I miss you. I'm such a mess. I'm sorry..." He cried as he focused on sinking the plastic fork’s tines into the corner of his and Luna’s chocolate wedding cake. Bringing that first bittersweet bite toward his lips, he sniffled and inhaled so many fragrant hints of their once flourishing fairytale romance. Synapses lit up his memory with snapshots; the two of them snuggled up, red wine and dark chocolate notes lingering on Luna’s breath as she traced their initials into the fogged up windshield of Sol’s truck. Listening to Sade records, sipping tea, falling asleep on the couch, legs intertwined, waking up sweaty to sweet kisses and soft caresses. Strolling through the neighborhood after dinner in the cool of a summer evening, a light jacket tied by the sleeves around Luna's waist. Skiing in Northstar all day, exhausted and drying out by the lodge fireplace, stars wheeling around the clear skies as they walked back to their cabin... "Wow. What a great start, huh?" He stared at the forkful of chocolate cake, sighed in resigned exhaustion and let himself have a taste… “Why’d she have to leave? Why couldn’t you let her stay, God?” He toasted to her tearfully, tasting history, chest heaving sobs again. “I can’t do this. God, I'm done...”

Sol put the fork on the ledge and set the plate of chocolate cake missing his first bite down right next to it. He leaned forward, set his jaw, and pulled the revolver from the back of his waistband. He leaned back again and he pushed on the ledge with both of his feet, tilting the chair to balance on its two rear legs. He pulled back the hammer until it clicked into place and he slowly turned the barrel around. Staring sadly into his own version of total oblivion, Sol took a few slow deep breaths and closed his eyes—

The phone rang and Sol jerked backwards, sending the gun flying from his hand as instinct forced him to try and break his fall. The heavy revolver skipped once and struck the sliding glass door, shattering it loudly. Solomon gasped sharply and then let out a pankicked breath in full alarm. A dog started barking in a nearby yard. Then another. Solomon scrambled to his knees and pulled the cell phone from his pajama pocket. Sitting on his ankles, blinking away the cobwebs from his tumble out of the chair, his bleary eyes could barely make out the time... 5:24 a.m. And beneath that, glowing in all caps on the screen: LUNA, framed in crescent moon emojis. Sol cleared his throat, took a steadying breath, then pressed the greeen button and raised the cell phone to his ear. "Hello? Luna?"

"Hi, Sol. Happy Anniversary... I know it's early. Um... Can we talk?"

Tears welled in Sol's eyes as a hopeful chuckle escaped in his next breath, "Yeah, of course. I was just thinking of you. Happy Anniversary, Luna... How are you? It's good to hear your voice. Um... Yeah. Hi... What's up? "