Amie Woeber
Nov 4 · 3 min read

Coffee Presses and Chocolate

Using their dirty dish towel, she wiped down the coffee press, placed it on the drying rack and sighed. The black and white bag with its tacky glitter stars that held her anniversary present sat next to it, unopened because she feared it would be a disappointment. The paper towels on her microwave blew in the wind next to the opened window, wilting as she did in this heat and humidity.

He had left her gift bag on the countertop before he went to work for the day, and she knew she wouldn’t see him again until tomorrow. This is what their marriage had become — empty gestures to pass the time while their life crawled by. He at least remembered their anniversary. Lesser husbands do that. That was something, right?

The coffee press had been a present years ago for their anniversary after she complained enough about the instant coffee he always bought. She smiled as gratefully as she could, pretending that the gesture was a sweet one that he had made to make her happy, ignoring what it really was. He didn’t smile at her happiness when she opened the gift; he sighed with relief that the complaining was over and that more importantly, the yearly exchange of gifts to celebrate a day that not was no longer part of a life they celebrated was over too.

At last, she willed herself to rustle through the bag, seeing a handful of chocolates and candies from a store he passed by yesterday on his way home from the office and his favorite bar. Chocolates she didn’t want to eat. She made a promise to thank him later, but inwardly she cursed him for the calories and sugar she would have to burn off somehow or they would go straight to her hips or her waist. He heard her complaints about the coffee, but he didn’t pay attention to her complaints about her body — it was a body he no longer cared about anyway.

It could be worse, she knew. He worked hard, and they never had to worry about money. She worked too, and they both had the careers that they had planned for, catered their lives to, groomed, and maintained. He never said a mean word to her or her kids, but the words he said, in general, had faded so much in frequency that she didn’t know if his lack of meanness was deliberate, or simply a byproduct of his withdrawal.

She surveyed the kitchen again, looking for any loose ends to clean, organize, or put back in place before she settled in for the night. Begrudgingly, she pulled out a dark chocolate square and wiped her hands on the dishtowel before draping it on the cupboard door. Her diamond caught on a couple of threads of the fabric, and she pulled gently to loosen them free. She remembered what it felt like when he slipped that ring on her finger on a beach so many years ago. They had so many adventures planned then, the two of them starting out together, barefoot in the surf pledging “I do.” Then “I do” turned into “someday,” and now that word has disappeared too.

She shuts off the light and retires in front of the TV, wondering who else was on that beach that day was doing the same thing. Did they keep their promises and adventures too? Or are they like them now. Leaving presents out for each other. And just trying to be thankful and excited over coffee presses and chocolates on their anniversary.

Amie Woeber

Written by

Grabbing Life by the Coconuts #amesamazingadventure

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