Bright Eyes

15. Mr. Brighteyes

Bright blue eyes stared expectantly at the fire that burned on the hearth, at the kettle dangling above it. Steam slithered out the spout, mixing in with the smoke, through the dark tunnel, out the chimney.

    "Water's ready," announced the man, his voice loud enough to be heard all the way to the kitchen, where his five guests sat around the dining table in a silence of their own. An acoustic rock song began to play on the radio.

    Damien and Sander stirred. Jack's head rose up from his folded arms on the table. Max tapped on the pause symbol on his phone screen, and pulled the earbuds out of his ears. Lyn glanced away from her paperback copy of "The Bell Jar".

    The man walked over to the stove, set the kettle down on one of the burners. "Hope you all like tea," he said with a smile, pouring steaming water into a teapot. He opened the cupboard, pulled out a store-bought box of tea bags.

    Jack chuckled. "For a second there, I thought you were the all-organic, vegan kind of guy."

    "I do make my own tea," he said, setting down the teapot on its coaster. "Gather my own leaves and herbs in the backyard. I've got vegetables growing there, too. I just thought you wouldn't be so accustomed to it, so I bought tea instead. And I hope this makes things less uncomfortable."

    "Thanks for the hospitality, but I'm not a tea person," admitted Damien.

    "I know," said the man, calmly. "Lyn?"

    Lyn nodded, reached her teacup over to him when he motioned her to.

    He held the cup, poured water in. Then his hand hovered over the box of tea bags, and he looked at Lyn and said, "Chamomile's your favorite, isn't it?"

    Lyn nodded.

    "Helps you calm down, doesn't it?" said the man, pulling out a yellow packet. "Helps you sleep when those thoughts overwhelm you at night."

    "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Thank you," said Lyn, receiving her teacup. "How did you know?"

    "I just do." He smiled, looked at each one of them seated around the table. "I know all of you."

    Max's hand rose into the air. "Hey, uh, you said chamomile has this calming effect, right?"

    The man nodded. "Yes."

    "I'd want some of that, too," said Max, handing his teacup to the man.

    Sander hesitated, then, "Me, too."

    The man laughed, amused. "I know you're all nervous, scared even," he said, pouring water into Max's teacup. "And I know you want answers." He pulled out another yellow packet, dipped the tea bag into the water. "But as of now"—he handed Max his teacup, received Sander's—"why don't we take a moment to breathe? There is nothing to fear—"

    "Nothing to fear?" asked Jack, incredulously. "Nothing to freakin' fear? Look, those freaks chased us down last night. And I'm telling you, that wasn't the first. Damien and I—"

    "—were chased by those men the night Damien sneaked out of his mom's apartment to go with his friends to a party they were not supposed to even be in. And you made your way to the gym—without your phone, if I may add—and stayed there for hours after you threw that tantrum at your parents. Is that the night you speak of?" said the man, nonchalantly, giving Sander a smile as he handed him his teacup.

    Jack said nothing. But the look in his brown eyes gave it away.

    "As I was saying," the man went on, "there is nothing to fear as long as I'm around. You're safe with me."