Chocolate.
I loved chocolate. Every wafer, every tempered bowl, every chunk. It didn't matter how it came. I loved it. I guess it was the love for chocolate that bonded me with my father. My earliest memories of chocolate were filled with images of my father. I could still see his hands with the sterilized chisel, breaking off pieces and tossing them into the copper cauldron. Every so often, he would look up at me with his bright blue eyes and place a chunk onto my tongue and the love affair would begin again. The chocolate would melt on my tongue and my eyes would be filled with the sight of my pastry chef father and I would sink into a universe that was untouched by human hands.
So when I graduated from high school, it was understood that I would attend the Culinary Institute of America in New York in order to take over the family's business, Sweets Inc. after Dad decided to retire. Mom and Dad took me to the dorm and we took a tour of the campus but Mom got tired and opted to lie down in the car while Dad finished helping me with my suitcases. I had a single room, which was what I had requested and what Dad's hard work was paying for, and I was so glad that we were alone because I never expected my father to cry.
"I bet you and Mom will be so happy now that I've gone. I bet you'll be having sex in the den β¦ "
The sound of his sob startled me into silence and I turned to see him sitting on the side of my unmade bed, staring out the window as tears rolled down his cheeks. "Daddy?"
He wiped his cheeks, seeming to be embarrassed that I'd seen him. "I'm okay, honey."
"No, you aren't." I sat on the bed, a tin of chocolate almond nougat in my hands. "What's going on?"