A Burst of Cinnamon

By Andrew Monge

“Hey, can I bum a piece of that?”

I stop dead, heart racing, hand halfway to my backpack. I glance at the desk to my right, sure I was hearing things. Nope. The beautiful blonde girl sitting next to me in English class is talking to me, the nerdy kid with acne and braces.

“I, uh…I…what?”

“Your gum. Can I have a piece?”

Dear God, stop staring at her! I tear my gaze from her face – those sparkly blue eyes, that mesmerizing smile – and look at the pack of Big Red clenched in my fist. “Th-this gum?”

She laughs. “What other gum is there, silly?”

My face burns as I slide a piece from the sleeve and hand it across the aisle.

“Thanks,” she says. “My name is Brenda, by the way, but people call me Bren.”

She reaches out her hand, waiting for me to shake. I put the remaining gum into my bag, wipe my clammy hand on my jeans, and clasp hers.

“I’m Mark. People call me, uh, Mark, I guess.”

Bren giggles. “Pleasure to meet you, Mark-I-Guess.”

And suddenly, the first day of Ninth Grade doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

* * *

“It’s just a kiss, Mark. It’s not like anything else is gonna happen.”

It’s sophomore year of college, and we’re seeing each other for the first time in two years. I walk to the stereo across the room and put on some music. With my back to her, I sneak a pack of gum out of my front pocket, ease a piece into my mouth. After, I walk back and sit down next to her. I stare into those radiant blue eyes, losing myself in them. I reach up, tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She smiles. That’s all it takes. I slide my hand behind her neck, twirl my fingers in her hair, and pull her close.

We kiss, lingering a moment before she withdraws. “Is that Big Red?”

“Yeah. Corny, right?”

Her smile grows, and we kiss again.

Then we make love for the first time.

After, we make love again.

Then again.

* * *

I stand under a pergola, sweating in a suit and tie beneath the hot August sun, watching her walk down the aisle. We kick ourselves for taking so long to get married, for not immediately building upon that intimate weekend we shared in college. But now, a dozen years later, with “Canon in D” playing in the background, Bren makes her way toward me. As she gets closer, I see her fighting back tears that threaten to ruin her makeup.

“You okay?” I whisper.

She takes a shuddering breath, dabs at her eyes with a knuckle. “Yeah, baby. It’s just…I can’t believe this day is finally here.”

“A dream come true, isn’t it? Here, let me help.” I reach in my pocket, withdraw a small pack of tissues, and hand her one. After blotting her eyes, she looks around for somewhere to discard it. “I’ll trade you,” I offer.

I take the tissue with my left hand and slip her a silver-foiled rectangle with my right. She chuckles at the sight of it. “Seriously? Is my breath that bad?”

“Nah,” I say, “just wanna be ready for our first kiss as a married couple. What better way to seal the deal than with the gum that brought us together all those years ago?”

The ceremony is short and sweet, neither of us interested in wasting any more time apart from one another. When the vows are read and the officiant declares us husband and wife, I step forward, wrap Bren in my arms, dip her, and—

* * *

Beep-beep-beep-beep.

I slowly open my eyes, wincing at the bright fluorescents above my bed. I run my tongue around the inside of my mouth, creating some moisture for my parched lips before hitting the Call button. My nurse arrives seconds later.

“Good morning, Mister Paulson. How is my favorite patient feeling today?”

“Mornin’, Terri. If it’s not too much trouble, I have a few favors to ask of you.”

“I’ll try my best. What can I do?”

My first request – a fresh cup of water – is met with a nod. My second request receives an arched eyebrow. My final request brings tears to her eyes as she backs her way out of my room.

* * *

“Mark? Mark? Wake up, honey.”

My lids flutter, eyes fighting to focus.

And there she is. My Bren. Nearly fifty years have passed since we got married. Not a bad run, but it still isn’t enough.

It never is when you’re in love.

I take a sip of water, reach for her hand.

“Hey, sweetheart. I see Terri got you on the phone.”

“She did. What’s going on, Mark? Terri sounded…off, when she called. And what’s this?” she asks, pointing at the present on my tray.

“That’s for you, baby.”

“Me? How did you get me a gift?”

“Terri sent one of the other nurses down to the gift shop for me. I wasn’t sure they’d have what I wanted, but I lucked out. Before you open it, though” – I swallow hard, producing a loud click in my throat; tears start welling – “we need to talk.”

Bren’s eyes widen, her hands moving to a spot over her heart. “Mark?”

The tears cascade down my cheeks, blurring my vision, leaving me momentarily speechless.

Bren shakes her head. “No. No, I don’t want to hear it. Save it for another day, Mark. Please?”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I don’t think we have another day. I feel it, Bren. Today is the day. I spent last night dreaming about us – meeting you in English class, making love during that long weekend we spent together in college, reuniting and getting married all those years ago – and when I woke up I…I just knew, baby.”

She scoots her chair as close to the bed as she can, rests her head against my stomach, body quivering from the sobs she tries to hold in.

“I love you, Bren. Thank you for all of it. Good, bad. Happy, sad. I loved every minute of it. You made this life so bright, and made me a better man than I could ever hope to be on my own.” I take another sip of water and put my head back against the pillow. “Open your present for me, will you?”

She sits up and eyes the box, reaches for it with shaky hands. She turns it slowly.

My lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, knowing what’s coming.

Her fingers go to work on the paper, unwrapping a box filled with packs of Big Red.

“Kiss me, will you, Bren?”

Opening a pack, sliding a piece free, bending back the foil, she pops the gum into her mouth and starts chewing. Pushing back her chair, she stands beside me – smiling (my God, that smile), eyes afire (the last thing I’ll see) – and whispers, “I love you, Mark Paulson,” before planting one final kiss on my lips, a burst of cinnamon sending me into the Great Unknown.

🩷🩷🩷

Bio:

Andrew Monge (Twitter/Bluesky: @MuchAdoAboutNil) lives in Minnesota with his wife and kids. A computer programmer by day and a voracious reader by night, he is a lifelong introvert who only finds his voice while writing. His work has appeared in Punk Noir Magazine, Trash Cat Lit, Urban Pigs Press, and Shotgun Honey.