The faucet hissed loudly in the corner of the kitchen, a tired, rhythmic sound. Elias sat at the small wooden table, sipping on some cold glass of water. A dull pain hit his lower back, a product of working ten hours on the warehouse floor. He dropped the glass of water and picked up a jar of already-opened jam. Then he scraped the last bit of jam from the jar, the glass clicking sharply against his spoon. It was the only thing left in the cupboard until payday which was days away.
On the far end of the dinner table sat a box of chocolates. He had bought them on his way home at the pharmacy down the street, using the last crumpled five-dollar bill he’d been saving for bus fare. That meant one thing now: he’d have to walk the long three miles to work tomorrow. The red chocolate foil caught the dim light of the overhead bulb just above the refrigerator where they had pinned pieces of unpaid utility bills.
"The bus was late," Elias said. "The driver said the radiator was broken again."
Sarah didn't look up from the sink. She focused her sight on the dark crusty pot she was scrubbing, her shoulders hunched over with a permanent weariness. Her muscles are aching. The faucet sent down hot water like a loose fountain, sending steam up around her face, dampening the stray hairs at her neck.
"I believe that was just an excuse. They're always late on Fridays," she said. Her voice was heavy with tiredness, worn out by her own double shift at the diner.
"I thought they’d have cleared the slush by the street by now. It's still there."
"It's always late for this neighborhood."
She turned off the tap. Shaking drops of water off her hands before rubbing them gently on her dirty apron. The sudden silence made the room calmer. Her eyes caught the box at the table. She walked close to it and picked it up, staring at it side to side as if she'd never seen one. The price tag on the bottom—$4.99 glared at her. She knew that was his lunch money for the next two days.
"Chocolates," she said calmly, pulling out a chair.
"They’re the ones with the sea salt. You liked those last year, back when things were..." He paused like the words felt heavy to say. "Easier."
Sarah nodded. She touched the corner of the box like she was about to open it but she didn't open it. To eat them felt like consuming a luxury they couldn't afford, yet to ignore them felt worse. Her eyes suddenly lit up like light bulbs on a blackout night, her brows fluttered like feathers in the wind. She looked at the calendar pinned to the fridge. Someone had circled the 14th in blue ink, a hopeful gesture that now felt like a debt they couldn't pay. She had forgotten the date. Who remembers the date when you're busy with double shifts?
"Did you call your mother?" she asked, turning to him casually.
"I tried. My phone plan ran out of minutes this morning."
She nodded. They sat in silence.
Elias stood up, his joints popping. He groaned. The space between the table and the counter felt like a mile. He stood there hunched over.
Sarah smiled. "Sit." She stood and walked over to him, picking up his empty plate and carrying it to the sink. Then she picked up his boots, heavy with the grey slush from the walk home, and dumped them in the washer.
"I saw a man selling roses by the station," Elias said, his eyes following her as she walked back to her seat. "Ten dollars for three. I didn't have enough money for it."
"They're perfect. Flowers die anyway," Sarah said, her eyes on the chocolate box. She gripped the box again. She wasn't going to scold him for the five dollars. Even though it was exactly the light bill. She just held the chocolates against her chest like a shield.
"Thank you." She said softly. Her eyes pierced his.
Elias nodded. His face was void of expression. He let his eyes drop to his phone.
"Elias. Really." Sarah said again.
"Yeah." He leaned back in his seat.
Sarah got up and walked over to him dragging her seat along. She didn't bother if it scraped the floor. She sat beside him and just leaned her head against his arm. She didn't have the energy for a hug. She just wanted to let her exhaustion pour into him. He smelled of familiar sweat and comfort. Elias stretched out his hands and held her.
"I'll put the kettle on. We can bathe together," she whispered. "We can also split one. Just one." Gesturing with her hands.
"That’d be good." He smiled. "Happy Valentine's."
She got up and put the kettle on the stove letting the blue flame flicker to life. Then she walked back to her seat, and the kitchen felt a little less cold now.
But still, at the refrigerator, the bills were still there, and Elias still had his walk to work on Monday, but for now, the salt chocolate was nourishing.