The Tea Series

by Sheila Horgan

  I pointed in his direction. “That’s him, thanks.”

  “Hey, Cara.”

  “Hi, Joe. You look pretty good, all things considered.”

  “Yeah, well, my wife is gonna have a fit when she sees me.”

  “She hasn’t seen you yet?”

  “No, she drove up to Brooksville to see her sister. I called her and told her I’d been in a little scuff-up. I’m a bouncer. It happens. Not the first and probably not the last.”

  “Scuff-up? That’s what you call this?” I gave him my best I-can’t-believe-you-males look.

  “Don’t tell anybody, but I didn’t want to upset her. We just found out she’s gonna have a kid. That’s what she went up to tell her sister. Her parents are gone. Her one sister is all she’s got for family. Besides me. I didn’t want to freak her out. Told her that I needed a couple of stitches and that they were gonna keep me in the hospital just so I couldn’t go back and sue them later.”

  My heart fell. Was he going to sue A.J.?

  “Truth is, it was my own damn fault. Shouldn’t have gone busting in like that. I know better. But I thought maybe your man was in there. Saw what they did to him last time. Didn’t want to give them a chance to do it again. Ben was with me. I figured we got it covered, and we would have, too, if they hadn’t made such a frickin’ mess in the studio. Something they broke and spread all over the place made it so slippery that when we hit the door, our feet just went flyin’ out from under us, and the next thing you know they are on top of us cuttin’ the shit outta us.”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “We’re fine. Ben’s not gonna be as pretty as he was, but the girl from the theater — man, he’s got it bad — she thinks he’s a hero, and she’s been with him the whole time we’ve been here, so it will all work out.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Yeah, you can give me a ride home.” He smiled.

  “Besides that. What about the hospital? Do you have insurance?”

  “We got excellent benefits from Jovana. I’m covered by that. There was a lady who came in last night and asked all kinds of questions about insurance and stuff. Something about them collecting first if we sue and get anything. I told her that it wasn’t like that. I’m not suing nobody, and neither is Ben. It’s not anybody’s fault but the guys’ who broke into the place.”

  My heart was going to do flip-flops. It would sink, then rally, then sink again.

  “Oh, and the cops were here. They got the guys. All of them are in the jail now. We probably gonna have to testify, but they aren’t gettin’ out for a long time. They been doin’ this shit for a year. First the cops thought they were just psycho, but they got this whole other thing going on with social media and outrageous acts of idiots or something. They knew they were goin’ to jail and didn’t give a shit. They figure their money will all be addin’ up while they sit on their ass and get their food and roof for free.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Wish I was. Anyway, we gotta go. I gotta get cleaned up before my wife gets home, and I gotta get the house clean, or she’ll kick my butt right back to the hospital. That was supposed to happen last night, but I was here, so cleaning day is today.”

  “I can help you with that.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is. If you don’t mind, I can get it done faster than you and better than you. Cleaning is kind of what I do.” I gave him my best smile.

  “That would be great, because when I move too much, all the stitches pull.”

  “Did they give you any prescriptions? Do we need to stop at the drug store?”

  “They delivered right to my bed. I couldn’t believe it. We’re set.”

  I texted A.J.: Got him home. Staying to clean house. Will call later.

  A.J.: Thanks. Going better than I thought. ILY

  Me: Prayer works. ILY2

  When I got home, there was a note on the fridge. It said that A.J. had a meeting in Old Town and would be home late.

  I spent about an hour doing work for Adeline. Lately I seemed to be doing that. Usually got my forty hours a week in, but I did it in a very free-form kind of way. One day I wouldn’t work at all, and another day I’d put in sixteen hours. Adeline is pleased with the results, so I’m good.

  Starting soon I’m getting paid to get to know her grandson Christophe, but that is a whole different story.

  When I was done with the work for Adeline, I called Suzi, confirmed that she had no intention of coming over, then took a nice long bath with smelly good stuff, shaved everything important, deep conditioned my hair, which is starting to grow out pretty good and I actually like it better. I’ve started using a new color, put it in myself, just a box color. Since I already have highlights in from the salon, after a couple of washings it looks like a professional did it. The color is called ultra-intense auburn, or something like that, but when I put it on my hair, it just makes it a really rich color. Like I have more hair.

  Out of the bath, I put on a new favorite piece of loungewear. Got it on sale and online. It is a really sheer fabric. The nightgown is just a basic Grecian-style halter. The thing that makes it beautiful is that at the fitted empire waist are beautiful embroidered flowers with just a few flowers and vines that extend up into the bodice and down one side of the body. It has a matching robe that’s equally sheer. It has matching embroidered flowers at the waist, but more of them, so it’s more dramatic, and when you turn around, the whole back portion of the robe — from neck to a very deep cut that matches the deep-cut v-back of the nightgown — is beautiful lightweight lace. Between the embroidery and the shape of the v-cut back, it makes me look like my waist is teeny-tiny.

  I put a bunch of product in my hair, used a big-barrel curling iron, did the whole overdirectional thing where you tell your hair it’s going to go one way, but then force it to go the other way, which builds volume for someone with hair like mine. The result was perfect. Kind of like a pixie cut with a long top that had big soft curls. It looked very red carpet. Teagan would be proud.

  I applied full makeup. I feel like I’ve kind of been neglecting this side of myself lately. That’s not right. It is who I am. Bernie or no Bernie.

  Not sure where the whole Bernie thing came from, but since she pushed her way to the front of my brain, I put in some sparkly earrings, made myself a cup of tea, and settled on the couch with her journal.

  Teagan may think it is boring and dumb, but I want to know what Bernie was really like. How she got to a place in her reality that allowed her to have me around all the weird people she had me around when I was little. There had to be a reason, and maybe it was in the journal, and maybe when I found it in the journal it would help me remember more.

  The knock on the door was very soft. I’m not sure how many times he had tried. I answered, thinking it might be a delivery from the chemist or the produce man. He had taken to dropping by with fresh fruits and vegetables. He set the best aside each morning, just for us. I saw that same look in his eye I had seen in the eye of my cousin’s husband, and I was not taken at all by his generosity. At the door I found a young boy. Looking back, I smile. He must have been thirteen or fourteen. I was just sixteen, but I considered us worlds apart in station and age. I was managing a home, quite successfully, and he was still a child. “Miss, come. Quickly. She needs to speak with you.” I didn’t hesitate. I told Mrs. McCann that I was to run an errand, and I followed the boy through the streets to a small cottage not far from where he had collected me. He opened the door but did not enter, and instead he motioned for me to go in before he disappeared around the corner.

  Cassia was lying on a narrow bed in a tiny room to the back of the kitchen. Her voice was faint. Her heart was broken. “The baby is gone. My husband with her.” I didn’t move. “Please, go to the rectory; ask for my rites.”

  I didn’t know a lot about Cassia’s home life, but I did know that she lived a life separate from her husband and that the ba
by she had carried was not good news. Cassia had once told me her husband would likely respond to the news with a violence that I could not comprehend. I knew it was possible to force a miscarriage. After all, I was from a land that did not allow medical intervention, but not once in my life had I imagined that someone would actually cause another human life to be extinguished against the will of the mother.

  I flew from her cottage, ran to the church, and begged the priest, a new younger fellow than the monsignor who had helped place me with my charge. This new priest had had his evening wine and was in no mood to follow. I knew that if I returned to Cassia without him, she would surely pass before the night was done. For the first time in my life, I committed a mortal sin. I saw a vendor with trinkets from foreign lands. I bought from him a vessel. A small brass pitcher. I filled it with water and rushed back to the cottage. Cassia was no better.

  I explained to her that the monsignor was out, but would be coming soon, and that I had brought with me Holy water. I prayed over her and poured the water over her head, then over her belly. She closed her eyes. So peaceful, I thought she had left me. For more than an hour I sat by her side and prayed. Again and again I dribbled water on her and told her it was water from God to heal her. She seemed at peace, no matter her end.

  I could not stay with Cassia and tend to my charge. The decision was torturous. My heart was with Cassia, my responsibility lay with Mrs. McCann. I left the cottage besieged with guilt and misery in the most pure form. I spent a long night in prayer and returned to Cassia before sunrise. The next several weeks were spent running between the homes of my first American friend and my charge. Each day I would bring my little brass pitcher full of water, never once going to the church to ask the priest for his assistance, as I felt that God Himself had interceded on Cassia’s behalf and the new priest was not deserving of his title or his position.

  The day that Cassia stood for the first time, I stopped at the church and brought a bouquet to Mary. When she was able to walk out the door into the sunshine, I lit a candle. When she died, I cursed it all.

  Wait. What? What happened?

  I turned the page, and there was a new picture. I muttered all the way to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Bernie has to be some kind of sadist or something. It’s like she was trying to drive me crazy. I have no idea why she would do that, but she was.

  I’d been trying this new thing where I stay positive all the time. Mostly because I’ve spent so much time scrubbing my brain lately. Mom and her stripper pole. Teagan and her whole prostitution thing. I can’t think about things like that.

  I’m not saying I’m OCD or anything, but I do have a tendency to get kind of stuck on things. So now, when I find I am getting stuck, I just change my mind. Like Mom always says, change your mind, change your reality. I took a deep breath, a really big gulp of tea that was way too hot, sat back down on the couch, and picked up the journal.

  Bernie was not going to win.

  I stared at the new picture. It took a second to register, but something wasn’t right. The pages in my left hand were stuck together. I’m an idiot. I carefully pried them apart, making sure that I didn’t lose any of the writing and read the rest of Cassia’s story.

  The priest often stopped by on Sunday afternoon to bring Mrs. McCann Communion and to visit and pray. Perhaps he felt that a fine family in the parish was more important than Cassia. I was courteous, but I no longer participated in the ritual. It was a stormy day, the rain coming down in torrents when the monsignor tapped on the door. He tended to Mrs. McCann and then sought me out in the little kitchen. I offered him tea before he ventured once again into the storm. He accepted. I had just placed his cup on the table when he took my hand and asked what had caused my loss of faith. I am now quite sure he thought there was a young man involved. Me being on my own so far from home, I am certain that he assumed I had become involved with a man and was too frightened to confess my sins. When I explained that it was my fault that Cassia was going to burn in Hell for an eternity, his eyes softened. He insisted that would never be the case. I explained that I had gone to the rectory and asked Father to come to Cassia and when in a state of inebriation he had declined, I lied and told her that the water I used was blessed. I didn’t go back and get a priest. I was so certain that she would be whole again that I didn’t arrange for her Last Rites. Without them, she was damned, and her damnation was my doing.

  The old priest shook his head. “Child, our God is an all-knowing and loving God. He will not forsake your friend, nor will he damn you. You prayed with her. You cared for her. She was a good and religious woman. She is seated in Heaven, where one day you will join her.”

  I visited Cassia’s grave the next Tuesday. There was no marker on it yet. I was able to save enough and barter a bit to provide one for her several years later. I apologized for my charade. I prayed that if she were able she would show me a sign. A sign that she was safe in the hands of our Lord and that she forgave me. I knew it to be ridiculous, but I was still a child myself, and I needed that comfort more than anything I had ever needed. I sat at the cemetery for more than an hour with no sign from Cassia. My heart broken, I returned to Mrs. McCann.

  As I changed the linen on Mrs. McCann’s bed, she smiled most angelically and said that my friend Cassia had been about while I ran my errands and that she left a message for me. So confused was I, I did not correct her. She told me that Cassia had said that her journey was peaceful. Mrs. McCann went on to question what journey Cassia was speaking of, but I was unable to respond. She surely thought me daft. It mattered not.

  Cassia had well and truly placed me on a new path in life. One I had no idea existed. She is fully responsible for the alterations in my belief structure and the complete understanding that life is not what happens to me, but rather what I make happen. That life is a full-throttle experience, an expression I learned much later. That life is as much about perception as it is reality. Cassia taught me that every moment and every experience is important. That ritual and tradition bring richness into our lives. She taught me that I have the right and the responsibility to live my life in the way that suits me first, no matter the consequences. And that above all, acceptance…

  The rest was smeared, but I think I got enough of it to understand. I think.

  I was just about to stand up and fix another cup of tea when A.J. walked in. He looked wiped out tired. Beat to hell — somehow when you’re tired you wear your injuries like an old scratchy blanket — but he was smiling. “You look great.”

  “Thanks. I feel pretty good.”

  “I’m sorry that life has been so out of control that you haven’t been able to do the loungewear lately. It’s all my shit. Suzi and Gran. The studio. The problem with Jessie.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t bring up Jessie. I’ve been so good about keeping you out of the middle of it, and considering how upset Teagan has been, that hasn’t been easy. Then I went through a whole mental breakdown thing with the if-you-really-loved-me-and-valued-our-relationship-you-would-just-tell-me line of thought, which I know is total bull pucky, but it’s in the DNA.”

  A.J. smiled. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll tell you.”

  “No. I don’t want to be that kind of person. I just want to reserve the right to complain and whine when I’m doing the right thing. Did you eat?”

  “Kind of. Stuff from the bar during the meeting. Can I take a shower and then tell you all about it?”

  “Please. Do you want anything? I could fix something real quick.”

  “Only if you’ll join me.”

  “I can do that.”

  By the time A.J. came out of the shower, I had my favorite quickie meal cooked. I prepared really fluffy scrambled eggs — thanks to the chef in Texas, a true genius — with diced ham. On the table were pancakes, thick and about the size of a dinner plate for him and thinned out to almost crepes for me. Orange juice for A.J. and hot tea for me. Softened butter for both of us and warmed syrup for
him. It’s such an easy meal, takes less than ten minutes to prepare, but it’s good comfort food, and it’s quick. It’s also soft, and although A.J. has never once said a single word about how much pain he has been in since the fight with the three guys, every once in a while I see him grimace, and I know that chewing solid food still hurts. Unfortunately, I have a little experience in that area.

  Between bites — because you really have to eat a meal like that quickly because it is best when it’s hot — A.J. told me about his day. The people of Old Town had decided that they were going to stand together and whatever happened to one happened to all. They all chipped in and helped clean up the mess. The guys from the tattoo parlor down the street had construction knowledge and fixed most of the structural things that had been broken, like the stair banister and the shelves and supports for the backdrops. The costume shop had come in and restyled a bunch of stuff. The businesses that didn’t have any directly usable skills were offering financial and, more importantly, emotional support.

  Jovana had not even considered closing down the studio. She told A.J. that while she wasn’t there right now, she was very grateful that he was in the studio, because his rent payments covered the taxes, and she reminded him that she already owned the building outright. She explained that she fully intended to come back to work once her son’s family life had settled a bit. That having Grandma around was helpful right now, but it was only a matter of time before she’d overstayed her welcome; then she would be back at work part-time as always.

  A.J.’s sense of relief was palpable.

  “Have you heard anything from Ben and Joe?”

  “They’re good. The girl from the theater — well, she only works there to pay for school. She’s a nursing student. She’s taking real good care of her new boyfriend. The fact that he is her new boyfriend is helping his healing process.” A.J. laughed. “And Joe and his wife are having a baby. Nothing is going to bring him down.”