There I sat, completely still in the cool and thick darkness. I could hear the kettle beginning to cry out, as if in pain from the boiling water within it. Shortly she would return, as it was growing near to two-o’clock, to choose her tea and pour the water. It wasn’t an unpleasant thing to experience, but it wasn’t something I looked forward to.
There I sat, completely still in the cool and thick darkness. I could hear the kettle beginning to cry out, as if in pain from the boiling water within it. Shortly she would return, as it was growing near to two-o’clock, to choose her tea and pour the water. It wasn’t an unpleasant thing to experience, but it wasn’t something I looked forward to. Some of us did look forward to the afternoon tea. Those who enjoy it said that it was quite relaxing to sit in the sunlight for a while, smell the freshly brewed tea, and then have a bath and be ready for a nap when they returned to the darkness. But sunlight was frightening to me, and baths were certainly not my favourite activity. Footsteps approached, and I could hear the familiar tune she always hummed. She made her way to the kitchen, removed the kettle from the stove, and opened her jar of tea. The shuffling of tea leaves brought with it the scent of mint and eucalyptus, which had become a source of anxiety for me as my days with her had grown in number. Blinding light flooded the spot where I sat, and my stomach dropped. I had been spotted. She hummed her little melody as she ran her fingers over us, carefully surveying her options before coming to a decision. I held my breath and prayed it wouldn’t be my turn. Her fingers landed on me, soft and warm, and for a second I wondered if I was overreacting. Perhaps I just needed to relax, and it would all be lovely! But alas… I had been chosen.
Her hands cupped my sides and lifted me from my safe place, where I sat been sitting for nearly a week now. I thought I was safe. I thought I was forgotten. I thought she would leave me be… But I thought wrong. Today she just felt like I “fit her mood” as she often told the man who lived with her. I often overheard her conversations with the man, sometimes they were sweet and soft and full of love, and sometimes they were loud and angry and harsh. Yet somehow, after she had had a cup of tea, the conversations always turned back to gentle and kind and lovely. Tea seemed to solve all of her troubles, yet tea was the source of all of mine.
The table was cold when she set me down, but I knew I wouldn’t be cold for long. Soon the kettle would release the boiling water and I’d be filled to the brim with hot, humid, heaviness that only became bearable when she set the little tea diffuser in the water to make the tea. She did this now, and it gave a little klank! and a splash! that made me cringe. I hated the sound of metal against porcelain. The smell of the mint and eucalyptus was ever so strong, making me feel like I would be ill. My eyes instinctively clamped shut, and I fought to keep them closed until she would be through with me. I listened as she took a small plate from the microwave. The scent of bread joined the mint, and somehow eased my pain. Again she cupped her hand around me, and brought me with her croissant to the little table in the sun.
A blast of incredibly humid air hit my face when she opened the door. This was different. The table had moved. The table used to live by the corner window in the parlour, and occasionally she would open the window to let the warmth of the day in with the sun. Today though, the table was out in the garden, beneath the shade of a pergola, covered from top to bottom in climbing plants. It was shady here, and the scent of fresh leaves and grass and summer air was simply delightful. She settled herself in, and took a sip of the tea. I watched her as she did so, and realized that after all this time, I had never noticed how lovely she was. Her eyes were a stunning shade of green, her pale face dotted with freckles across her cheekbones and nose. Her long hair was parted on the side, and framed her face in a way that made her seem as delicate as the flowers that surrounded us. Her hands were so soft and gentle, they made me wonder why I had been so fearful. I decided then that I would learn to enjoy our two-o’clock teas, and learn to love her as much as she loved me. I became her favourite, and the anxiety I had felt before was fading with each day that passed. I napped peacefully in the silent darkness, and sat peacefully in the garden sun. I enjoyed seeing her face every day, and I truly believe that she enjoyed seeing mine. Two-o’clock became my favourite time of day.
Recent Comments