I Gave Away the Birthday Chocolates, Then the Screaming Started

Then I left.

I got back in my car and drove away feeling oddly lighter, like I’d handed off an unwanted reminder and freed up some air in my apartment.

If I’d known what was actually inside that box, I would have burned it in the parking lot.

That night, I was padding around my apartment in an old college T-shirt, hair twisted in a towel, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth, when my phone lit up with the first call.

Dad.

I answered because habit is a hard thing to kill.

“Hey, birthday boy’s father,” I said around toothpaste. “If this is about the chocolates, they were nice. Unnecessary, but nice.”

“Kendall,” he said, and his voice sounded wrong. Like a string pulled too tight. “The chocolates we sent. Did you eat any?”

I spat into the sink. Wiped my mouth. “No. I dropped the whole box off in Dublin. Brandon and the kids demolished it.”

Silence.

A soft choked sound came through the line. Then the call ended.

I stared at the screen. Before I could set the phone down, it lit up again.

Evelyn.

I almost let it go to voicemail. I didn’t.

“How much did Brandon eat?” she shouted. “Tell me exactly how much. Exactly, Kendall.”

The hair on my arms rose.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my voice flattening. “He had several. The kids did too. They are kids. It is chocolate.”

She made a sound that did not sound human. A thin keening inhale, like all the air had been yanked out of her lungs. Then the line went dead.

I stood in my bathroom with the phone in my hand and stared at my own reflection like it might explain what was happening.

Ten seconds later, my phone rang again.

Melissa.

“Please,” she said, crying so hard her words warped. “Please tell me you are joking. Please say you ate some.”

My stomach dropped. My heartbeat got louder.

“Melissa, what is going on?” I demanded. “I watched Brandon and your kids eat it. I did not touch any of it. Tell me what is happening.”

She inhaled sharply, like she was about to say something, but the line cut off.

I stared at the phone. My thumb hovered over call back, then stopped.

Three adults who spent my whole life calling me dramatic, oversensitive, ridiculous, were losing their minds over a box of chocolate.

My phone rang again.

An unknown Columbus number.