Tea For Two

13

Disclaimer: This is part of an original piece of fiction. It belongs to me, the characters belong to me, as does their love for tea, baseball, and each other. Don't steal. Thanks. Enjoy

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I wake up to the sound of running water. I'm an early riser- always before my parents, even on the weekends- so this is new, to have someone up and making noise before me.

So is having a red head girl in my bed.

She's still lying on her back, though the ice on her shoulders has long since melted in its bags under the Saran wrap. Her hair is covering the top part of her face, and her mouth is slightly open, and she's still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

I sigh and check the clock. 6:34. What is the deal with me waking up early when Emily is involved?

I can still hear the water running in the kitchen, and I decide to check it out. Being careful to not wake Emily, I slip out from under her arm and climb out of bed.

My mother is standing at the kitchen sink with the faucet on full blast and my tea kettle in one hand. She puts the other hand in the stream of water, checking the temperature.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"Good morning to you, too, dear," she says, looking over her shoulder at me. "Why don't you wake up your friend while I put some water on for your tea?"

I just stare at her.

"Is that water hot?" I ask.

She smiles.

"Yes. I just thought it would be nice for it to boil quicker."

I have been drinking tea in my mother's house for years, and she still doesn't know how to brew a decent cup. I feel like a failure.

I walk over and pull the faucet handle down with a jerk, stemming the flow.

"No, mom, no. That is just- that's not how you boil water for tea."

Her brow wrinkles in confusion as I fill the kettle with icy water and set it on the stove top to boil.

"Tea is all about patience," I explain. "If you are not willing to wait for the cold water to heat up, you rob yourself of half the benefits that tea will offer you."

"Ah, the tea Nazi is awake," says Emily from the door.

When I turn to see her, I am instantly grateful that she had the good sense to take off the bags of melted ice from her shoulders before coming out to meet my mother.

"My mission for good tea never rests."

"I see," she replies. Then she holds out a hand to my mother, walking over to where she sits at the breakfast nook. "Mrs. Shoemaker. I'm Emily Turner. It's a pleasure to meet you."

My mother's eyes light up as she takes Emily's hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, dear."

My mother has no idea she's shaking my girlfriend's hand.

As I turn my back to them to choose a tea from my assortment, I grimace at that thought.

"So, my daughter tells me that you play baseball," my mother begins.

Much like me, my mother doesn't know the first thing about baseball. But I admire her tact for bringing this up. Although, it is just about the only thing she knows about Em. That first day I met her, when I came home, my mother asked me about our new neighbors, and I said: "they have a girl named Emily. She plays baseball."