Seriously Hot Tea
“Morning,” I smiled. My parents sat at the garden table, a large oak tree casting shade over them. A newspaper was clenched in my father’s hands and my mother scribbled in her notebook.
“Florence,” my dad nodded at me from under his reading glasses.
“Morning,” my mother beamed. “You look lovely.”
“Oh,” I winced in surprise, glancing at the green crochet midi dress I was wearing. “Thanks.” I took a seat across the table, pouring myself a glass of water.
“Your coffee, Miss Grant,” Dorothy said, placing the saucer with a cup in front of me. “Anything to eat?”
“Thank you,” I glanced at her. “Could I have some toast? Jam and peanut butter, please. Two slices, actually.”
“Sure, Miss Grant.”
“Is that all you are going to eat?” my mother asked, my father pausing his reading. Both stared at me.
“Just not very hungry.” I raised the cool glass to my lips.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Jo emerged from the house, rushing towards me. “You are not going to believe it!”
“What’s going on?” My mother glanced at her.
“I’ve got some seriously hot tea for you.” She sat beside me.
“What is it?” I muttered.
“Okay,” she caught her breath, excitedly looking at the three of us, just about to reveal a big, grand secret. “Mark thinks that Miles is sleeping with someone…in this house.”
“Oh!” A shallow breath escaped me. I certainly didn’t see that coming. “Um, wow!” I let out a nervous chuckle.
“Hmm, he is young and single…” my father trailed off. Obviously, and thank God that wasn’t a huge shock to him. Then I glanced at my mother.
“Well,” she drawled, her eyebrow raised dramatically, casting its gaze at me. “That’s certainly…a surprise.”
“I know! Right?” Jo laughed. “Mark said that he was walking past Miles’ bedroom this morning—” Jesus Christ “—and heard some seriously breathy whimpers and giggling coming from behind the door.”
“Huh,” I smiled at her from over the rim of my glass, iced water pooling down my throat. “Did he say who it was?” I asked, awkwardly catching my mother’s knowing gaze on me.
“No, but surely it must be one of…” She trailed off, her eyebrow arching toward the guest wing. “What a scandal!” she chuckled. Oh, crap! “Mark thinks it’s Chantelle.”
“Why her?” My mother suddenly broke her self-satisfied silence.
“Well, Mark says she always wanted a little more than friendship.”
“And what about Miles?” I asked, laying my cards on the table—in fact, rubbing them in front of my mother’s face.
“Hmm, he never seemed interested, but maybe a spark ignited. Who knows? But I wonder if it was someone else,” she mumbled, snatching a piece of toast from the plate that I hadn’t even realised had been served.
“Um, like Francine?” I suggested.
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “You know how she is…all bendy and that? Sometimes I wonder if she sleeps in handstand scorpion pose rather than a normal human state.”
“Do I even want to know what that is?” I blinked, confused.
“It certainly looks painful, so probably not. But, what I’m saying is—”
“What about you, Florence?” My mother’s monotone voice interrupted us.
“Um,” I immediately darted my gaze at her. “Me?!”
Self-contained, my mother mustered a smile. “Yes, who do you think it might be?”
“I don’t know. I thought he was gay,” I blurted out, finally reaching for my coffee. “Maybe it was Louis.”
“Who, Louis?” Jo laughed. “No, Louis isn’t gay, he’s just…
a very well-paid underwear model. And besides,” she lowered her voice with a sultry smile, “Mark said it was definitely a woman.” Shit!
“Alright,” Jo rose to her feet, “I’m off to meet Kim at the airport.
Do you remember my best friend from college? ”
“Of course I do,” I laughed, finally taking a bite of toast. “I also remember my silver dress she never returned.”
“Hmm,” Jo mused, feigning confusion. “Ooohh, that dress!”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Anyway, drive safe,” I added as she headed out towards the garage.
“Kim?” My father closed his newspaper, wondering, as if trying to remember, then grabbed his empty mug for the refill. “Was she her roommate, Kimberley? The curly girl with a side of sass, or—” mulling over for the politically correct word, he awkwardly asked, “—the one who’s really open-minded?”
“You can say ‘gay,’ Dad. And yes, she is both.”
“Well, isn’t this interesting?” My mother hummed the moment my father left the two of us alone.
“What is?” I glanced at her.
“Miles’ romantic relationship—” Her eyes met mine as she spoke. “—with that mysterious woman.”
“Well, whoever it is, it’s really none of my business.”
“Oh, cut the crap, Florence! We both know that it was you.”
“It was not!”
“Why is it so difficult for you to admit that you two are a good match?”
“Because we are not…a match!” God, must she always meddle in my life?
“You only say that because I like him, don’t you?”
“Ugh, go ahead, choose to believe whatever you want to believe, Mother.”
“Well, I think he’s the man for you.” You don’t even know him…how could you? Maybe he is right for me, but what about my feelings? Shouldn’t I be the one choosing, not you?
“God, Mum, when will you finally stop and let me decide who’s right for me? In fact, maybe it’s Blake. Just yesterday, Jo told me he was going to ask me out.”
“Blake? You can’t be serious?”
“Why not? He’s charming, interesting, and…a plastic surgeon! And…he likes me.”
“Of course he likes you, God, we all saw that. Even more than that, he adores you. But is he really what you want?”
“Well, I’d at least like to find that out for myself.”
“He will bore you to death, you know? Security? Yes! But there’s no challenge for you there.”
“Challenge?” I definitely didn’t expect that word from her. “Ugh!” I was suddenly speechless.
“What?” She let out a heavy sigh. “Do you think I don’t know my own daughter? Or do you think I’m completely blind? Do you think I haven’t noticed how you look at him?”
“I don’t—”
“—Just like me, when I was younger, that night at the beach, looking at your father.”
“That’s not! What are you even talking about? Miles and I have known each other for only a week or so! Are you seriously suggesting I’m in love with him?”
“I’m not that delusional, Florence, but he vexes you. He bothers you. He makes your blood boil. He challenges you. It’s the same with your life. You never settle for what’s easy. I wanted that for you. But you didn’t. So don’t settle for it now.”
A moment of silence fell between us.
What if she is right? Even though it kills me to admit it, what if…what if he is the person for me? And it scares me, because she might be the reason I will never find out. Because of the way we were. Because I won’t let her win.
The pause stretched on; it was now rather long to come back to the same conversation I was pretty sure we both didn’t want. But there was something else.
“So.” I hesitantly cleared my throat, afraid this might have been too far, but I asked anyway. I asked, naive, hoping for once she’d be honest with me, “Why did you keep the newspaper, Mum?”
Evidently caught off guard, my mother’s jaw tensed. A slight, uncomfortable frown creased her forehead. Not the question she had expected.
“Well,” she started, then paused, her lips quivered, mustering a smile, “I don’t know what newspaper you’re talking about.”
“Right,” I mumbled with a snort. “That’s what I thought.” Leaving the rest of my cold toast untouched, I pushed back my chair and walked away.
***
Blake found me in the kitchen, still huffing and puffing, muttering frustratedly to myself with a jar of peanut butter in one hand and jam in the other.
“Hey.” He beamed at the sight of me, his smile quickly replaced by a frown.
“Hi,” I shot back.
Blake pointed at the toaster. “Do you…mind…if I make one too?”
“Not at all.” I shook my head.
“Sorry, is this a bad time?” he tentatively asked.
On the verge of kindly asking him to leave me the hell alone, I paused, then let out a heavy sigh. God, it wasn’t his fault I’d had a bad morning. Well, the morning was actually pretty great, even more than that…until I spoke to my mother.
“Um,” he said, “did something happen? Yesterday, you seemed a little upset too?”
“Sorry,” I breathed, quickly replacing my frustrated expression with a smile. “Just one of those days.”
“I see,” he said, taking out a slice of bread from the basket, patiently waiting for mine to toast. An uncomfortable silence settled around us.
“You know,” he finally spoke, his fingertips playing with the crumbs that had fallen on the kitchen countertop, “I once wanted to be a chef.”
“Really?” I glanced at him, slightly amused.
“Yeah. I even thought about leaving surgery and opening my own restaurant.”
“Seriously?” I asked, surprised.
“Imagine?” he said, eyebrows raised as if he were, in fact, envisioning it.
With an enthusiastic hum, I grabbed my toast, placing the slices on a small wooden tray. The satisfying sound of a knife scraping against the golden-brown surface filled the air as I spread peanut butter on it.
“And what kind of restaurant would it be? Like a fancy diner with those tiny, exquisite portions?” I chuckled, adding a spoonful of jam on top.
Blake laughed. “No, more like a breakfast place, but still, one of the fancy ones,” he added with a quick eye roll.
“Ah, of course.”
“With some exotic garnishes, like edible blossoms or…gold leaf.”
“And you’d make sure to add ingredients most people can’t even pronounce to make it more…memorable?” I grinned. “Goji berries or…furikake? Did I even say that correctly?” I giggled. “I’d definitely come. But I hope you’d still serve simple jam on toast for normal people like me, right?”
“Oh, there would be no such thing on my menu, Florence.”
“What?” I gasped dramatically. “That’s despicable! Wow, you just lost yourself a customer right there.”
“Okay,” he said, putting a slice of bread to crisp. Then, he glanced at me as I took a bite of mine. “Tell you what. If I ever open that restaurant, I’ll add it to the menu. Just for you.”
“Just for me, huh?” I teased, chewing.
“Yeah, so you’d have to become my regular customer.”
“Oh, I see what you’re doing there,” I chuckled.
“Exactly,” he replied, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets.
“Leaving me no choice,” I said, shaking my head disapprovingly.
“I Googled a few nice places around here,” he began. “The Fat Duck has some good ratings and reviews.”
“Oh, yeah! I know that restaurant. It’s really great!”
“I was hoping to check it out, you know, to get the vibe. Get inspired.”
“I get what you mean,” I nodded, taking another bite. “It has to have a soul. An individuality. Hmm, I guess that’s what I like about it. Well, the food there is good too.”
“Would you mind joining me?” he asked. “I really want to see what all the fuss is about.”
“Um, sure,” I smiled. “I could use a coffee.”
“Well,” Blake cleared his throat. “Um, I was kind of thinking more of a quiet table with a bottle of champagne?”
“Ooohh,” I drawled, locking eyes with him. “Well, that was smooth.” A slow smile spread across my lips.
“Shall we say—” He narrowed his gaze at me. “—tonight after dinner?”
“Hmm.” I hesitated at first, then finally said, “Well…okay, yes.” But truthfully, it was me saying yes to my sister. Then, Blake’s toast suddenly popped.