Getting Hitched Fiction - Tea and Verandahs

By Ellis Ash

Here they were again, Liam leaning casually against the doorjamb, hands thrust deep into pockets, and Mira moving efficiently around her tiny kitchen. 

The Tea Ritual.  Such a pleasant experience, he thought. The tea was carefully selected, depending on time, weather, mood and even the season.  Sometimes there was cake.  Today it was delicate homemade biscuits, arranged symmetrically with great care.  He could smell the orange pekoe tea infusing in the pot.  He thought it slightly hypnotic, and could see the attraction of the Japanese tea ceremony and the reverence it invoked.  Steam rose elegantly before the lid was set in place.  How long had they been doing this?  To tell the truth he couldn’t remember, but tea, and verandahs for that matter, would forever hold a different appeal to him now. 

Liam had done a stint overseas.  Three months working at the London Museum.  The work was interesting, but there was a lonely void in his life that still remained unfilled.  He wasn’t getting any younger, and in the end, he felt more alone than he ever had.  He returned to the bright warmth of the east Australian coast.  Mira, his childhood friend, contacted him out of the blue.  Her circumstances had changed.  She was undertaking some study and temporarily living nearby, not half a state away as she had been for the last twenty years. 

At first she was nervous, fearful of what Liam might think.  After all, she had taken off on a whim, leaving her family responsibilities behind.  But life hadn’t been a bed of roses for Mira, married to a self-centred and overbearing husband.  She was ashamed to say, her two sons were diluted versions of their father, and when she announced to the family that she was returning to the coast for some time out, just for her, the response had not been pleasant.  She still felt the sting of reproach, and it undermined her confidence.    

Beginning with coffee and meeting somewhere neutral, the two friends chatted about youthful memories and life.  Talking.  Walking.  Walking and talking.  They both agreed walking was good for the mind.  They breathed in the salty, sea-spray along the foreshore.   

At some point, things had taken a more intimate turn.  You couldn’t really call it intimate, not in the normal sense of the word, more of a homey sort of feeling, comfortable, like an old pair of slippers or a favourite chair always waiting in the corner. 

‘Got time for a cup of tea?’ she asked one day.

‘Absolutely,’ he’d said. 

He knew the layout of her kitchen very well now.  Small and neat - just enough room for the basics.  Taking up most of the available wall space was a large picture calendar, a showcase of different verandahs, one welcoming image for each month of the year.   He learned it was a gift from her mother.  She and her mother were both verandah people, great ones for long chats over a cup of tea.

Mira’s bedsit was sparse, but the few belongings she did possess were cleverly displayed and everything looked inviting, especially in the evening when the glaring fluorescent light was turned off and little lamps went on.  There were often candles, flickering and exuding a peaceful glow.  She had the knack of making people feel welcome. 

Liam appeared detached, but like a curious bird hoping not to be detected, he was watching Mira.  Today her hair was up.  A few wisps escaped the loose band and fell, trailing her neck to disappear under her collar.  He liked the way the curve of her neck looked smooth as it rounded and dipped down to her collarbone.  He was reminded of life drawings by the master artists, curves and crevices creating shadow and light.  She had a few grey hairs.  She said they were caused from having kids.  He referred to them as silver, told her they looked good on her.  He said they were a reflection of her experience of life and nothing to be ashamed of.

He felt comfortable around her.  There was no awkwardness. Since his accident, he was always slightly on guard with people, self-conscious, hiding the scars with appropriate clothing.  It could be tiring.  But Mira made him feel at ease, like none of it mattered.  He was drawn to her, and in her company he no longer felt empty.  But did he have any right to impose his feelings on her?  Could she ever be attracted to him? 

He’d been offered another contract at the London Museum, and although he expressed a vague interest in the work, he had decided not to return.  He wanted to stay nearby, and if she agreed, to continue their relationship.  He would tell Mira tonight.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he suddenly realised she had turned to face him.  She had been speaking directly to him and now stopped mid-sentence and smiled. 

'You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?  Typical - academic bachelor!’ She rolled her eyes upward and laughed.  ‘Bring that milk jug and we’ll take it on the verandah.’

Liam laughed in a half-laugh, half-huff.  Mira was glad this boyish, almost self-conscious mannerism had been retained.  At times, when he laughed, she could be catapulted back in time by more than twenty years.   The memory of that last night would come vividly back to life. 

All those years ago, when she had come to bid farewell, before being whisked hundreds of miles away, to embark on an utterly different and completely new life.  She would be standing once again, outside his house, could feel the last of the day’s warmth oozing from the cracked cement path underfoot, the darkening sky stained in the west, deep pink, coral and orange, with the promise of another hot day ahead.  Fragrant jasmine – the essence of their youthful summers - heavy in the air, the vines thick and laden with clumps of white flowers tipped and streaked with pink.  They had been close, but obviously not close enough.  He had never given her any reason to think there was more to the relationship than friendship, even though she would dearly have liked him to. 

Just yesterday, her mother had mentioned Liam in conversation.

‘Liam’s looking well, isn’t he?  Filled out a little, but it suits him,’ her mother observed.

‘You mean you’ve seen him?’ Mira asked.

‘Yes, he dropped some books back to me.  We talked about them ages ago.  He said he’d forgotten all about them until now.’

‘Mm, he’s not the most practical person I’ve ever met,’ she said to her mother.

‘No, that’ll be all the academia my dear,’ chuckled her mother.

Then her mother gently asked another question.

‘Have you fallen in love with him?’

‘Oh goodness no,’ Mira said, laughing and flapping her hand in the air, ‘nothing like that.  I’m more of a sister to him I think.’

‘Well, that’s understandable, practically grew up together...but you can talk to me.  I’ll support you in your decisions...whatever they may be.’

She smiled warmly as her mother went to refill the teapot, but her mind was reeling at her mother’s casual, yet very intuitive observation.

Mira spent a great deal of time reflecting on life and what her future held.  Last night her thoughts had returned, not to her family home and her responsibilities, but to Liam. Their lives had been so different.  She wondered what life would have been like had their paths entwined.  He never married, was well educated, with degrees in all sorts of things, always the perpetual student and now a teacher with students of his own.  She, wife and mother, had never made it to university, taking on menial employment to boost the family income.  But what did it matter? She had resigned herself to the fact that he had not changed, he still gave no indication of anything deeper transpiring between them. 

She would miss him dearly, the conversation and especially The Tea Ritual as he called it.  He lifted her spirits without realising it.  She hoped it was not another ten years before they met again. 

In a few more weeks they would not be able to sit out here at this time of the afternoon.  The best of the autumn weather was almost gone and the days would soon grow short.  Mira’s study was nearly complete.  With nothing to hold her here, it seemed there was nothing to stop her returning, and she could put her new found skills to practical use.  She’d already packed some of her reference books into boxes.  She would tell Liam this evening. 

Mira poured two fresh cups of tea.

‘Biscuit?’ she asked, gently pushing the plate towards him. 

‘Ah, lovely...’ he said. 

But before scooping up a biscuit in his long thin fingers, he surprised her greatly by reaching across and squeezing her hand warmly.  Not expecting this, she grasped clumsily at his hand and squeezed back.  She was not sure what it meant and dared not let go.

‘Just love it out here at this time of day,’ he said, faltering only slightly with the words, ‘especially with you – I can never think of tea or verandahs without thinking of you.’

***

© Ellis Ash 2008

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