“Look, for now just keep visiting Benji at the gallery, come by every once in a while when your dad’s at work and phone me from the gallery phone. Then you can come across the street and see me if I’m home. That will have to work for the time being.”
“Oh...” Benji cackles. “You ladies are sneaky.”
I roll my eyes at Benji and Mom swats him on the shoulder.
“Hush, Benji.” She turns back to me. “Do you have time to come back to my place and visit?”
“Yeah, I have a couple hours.”
“Good.” She turns to Benji, “We bid you good day, Benjamin.”
“Bye Ms. Da’Silva!” Benji waves enthusiastically and gives me a conspiratorial wink as we go out the door.
Mom’s apartment smells like cinnamon and nutmeg when we enter; I can see a thin trickle of smoke from the incense burner in the corner.
“Doesn’t it smell like apple pie in here?” Mom says enthusiastically. “I love it!”
“Makes me hungry.” I smile.
“You say the word and we’ll go out and buy an apple pie,” Mom says. “The grocery store down the next block has the most unbelievable pies you’ve ever tasted.”
She goes into the kitchen and flicks the kettle on. “I believe pie should be one of the staples of life. Bread, water, love and apple pie.”
“Don’t forget tea,” I add.
“It does seem to be the staple of our lives,” Mom agrees.
“I could drink tea all day.”
“I could float in a vast sea of it, just drinking my way through, providing it wasn’t too hot.”
I laugh. “Maybe you could get a ship and sail on the tea, and then once every so often you could lower a bucket into the ocean and pull up a bucket of hot peppermint tea.”
“Peppermint is good,” Mom says, “But today we’re trying something new. “
I watch her put the loose tea inside a wire ball and hook the chain onto the edge of the tea pot, which is a pretty jade colour and looks handmade.
“What kind is it?”
“Apple tea,” Mom says, “to go with the smell of apple pie.”
“The tea version of apple pie?”
“Very low carb.” Mom pours the steaming water from the kettle to the teapot.
“Mmm...” I inhale the rising steam, enjoying the earthy smell of apple mixed with spices.
“Wow, that smells delicious.”
“It sure does.” Mom sits down with her cup of tea. “Now, tell me...have you seen that boy again? Jacob was his name, right?”
YOU ARE READING
I Am Anastasia
Teen FictionSamantha wishes she were someone else. Anastasia, to be exact. Anastasia doesn't sit in the corner and read because she's too shy to talk to anyone. She doesn't keep trying and failing. Anastasia slays dragons. Of course, Anastasia is only a charact...
