Sunday, June 24th, 2012
Blogs | Sociology of Sheena
Chocolate Chip Kiss ~ James Franklin Pyles
“I can’t stand chocolate,” began one of my conversations with James.
“Everyone loves chocolate!” he replied.
“I don’t,” I maintained.
“Not even chocolate chip cookie dough? Every woman likes that,” he said.
“Nope! I eat around the chocolate chips. I only like the dough,” I said.
“That’s just not right. I love chocolate!” he exclaimed.
“Good for you. Wanna cookie?” I said sarcastically.
“Yes, in fact, I do!” he said laughing.
I rolled my eyes.
Days later I came home to my dorm room to find a chocolate chip on my desk. It was a single chocolate chip sitting right in front of my keyboard. I didn’t think much of it. Maybe my roommate forgot to clean up.
But when I opened my desk drawer to grab a pen there was a chocolate chip in there too. ¬†In fact, the more that I looked at my desk, the more I saw chocolate chips strategically placed around my desk. By the time I finished searching my desk I had found 15 chocolate chips.
The chips were there on purpose and I knew the culprit!
I called James. I got his voice mail. “You’ve reached the room of David Congdoon, James Pyles and Sheena’s MOM! Leave a message.”
The mom joke is a story for another day.
“I know it was you James! I’m gonna get you back! I know it was you!” I spewed into his voice mail while trying to suppress a laugh.
By the time I met James for dinner that night, I’d found a dozen more chocolate chips. They were in my dresser. On my bookcase. Next to my toiletries in the bathroom cabinet. In my closet. In my shoes.
“It was you!” I said to him as we ate.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” he responded.
“How’d you get into my room?” I asked.
“The same way I got into your mom’s room,” he said without a beat. (Again, a story for another day. He had a nasty sense of humor but I enjoyed it.)
“James!” I exclaimed
“LaShay!” he responded.
“Franklin.” I countered. (To understand what “LaShay” and Franklin” is about, CLICK HERE.)
“Look at it this way. Every time you find a chocolate chip, you’ll think of me. Now whether you smile or murmur ‘fuck’, you’ll be thinking about me.” he said.
I rolled my eyes.
He leaned in closer to me. “And Sheena, I was in your room for a very long time. You’re going to be thinking about me until you move out of that room.”
I scowled at him but I liked the game.
Weeks later and many chocolate chips later a friend visited my room.
“Why is there a chocolate chip on your theology book?” she asked.
“Where?” I asked.
My friend grabbed the chocolate chip. “That’s weird,” she said.
I grabbed the chocolate chip and threw it away. “JAMES!”
Days later, I joined him for lunch.
“I’ve heard rumors about you screaming my name at all hours of the day and night!” he said.
“JAMES!!!!” I yelled.
“Mmmm. I like when you scream my name!” ¬†he said.
“Oh my god!” I said rolling my eyes.
“James will do just fine. No need to get carried away,” he said deadpan.
I rolled my eyes.
“I do this because I love you LaShay,” he said.
I remained quiet.
“Long after you find that final chocolate chip, I’ll bet you will ALWAYS think about me when you hear or see a chocolate chip,” he said.
I smiled. He smiled.
We continued eating and moments later he started talking about the theological implications of hope that can and can’t be found in the movie Requiem For A Dream.
I found chocolate chips throughout the rest of the school year. In fact on the final day when all my belongings were packed and friends, including James helped move our furniture back to school standards, a few more chocolate chips were discovered. Each time I saw one or James saw one or someone else saw one, I’d find his eyes. His eyes would glint and he’d wink at me. I’d smile.
Once everyone was gone, James pulled a chocolate chip out of his pocket. He put it in his mouth. He rolled it around.
“My goal is to give you every kiss possible. Today….”
“A chocolate kiss.” I said leaning closer to him.
He kissed me deeply and slowly.
“How do you feel about chocolate now?” he asked.
“I love it,” I whispered as he kissed me again.
Its been ten years since that kiss. Its been eight years since he died. I still think of him whenever I come across a chocolate chip. I’ve longed since stopped screaming his name. But most often I whisper it softly. James, sweet dear, you are always!
James Franklin Pyles
December 13, 1982¬† -¬† June 24, 2004
I write about James a lot. Here are some of my favorites.