Ginny

Little air waves above hot cup’s surface reminded her of mischievous little spirits, and on the days when bloom of the windowsill geranium seemed brighter and buzz of the fridge sounded almost melodious, she thought she could twirl them around her finger. On bad days, she thought they were mocking her, bending their silly transparent bodies to the unheard melody, laughing at the joke her life was. Oh, how rude they were on bad days.

         She needed her cup of tea every morning at exactly quarter past seven or something horrible would happen. Ginny wasn’t exactly superstitious, but as many people like her, she was a creature of habit: do this this way, and that that way and then the Earth would spin correctly, and the whole world would function just as it has to. Sometimes though, we forget that habit is an enemy of fate. And a simple cup of tea can become a powerful instrument in its masterful fingers. Doesn’t mean Ginny knew that. Hence, on Friday, May 17^th, she found herself spitting her favourite herbal tea in disgust, completely unexpectedly, because she’d rather chop one of her fingers off, than waste her precious cinnamon tea. Yesterday, Theresa carelessly got it wet, and in dark cupboard it gained horrible smell and mouldy taste. Ginny felt fire rising in her stomach reaching her throat, her cheeks, flaming her every strand. It wasn’t enough that Theresa left biting remarks about Ginny’s perpetual loneliness, that she was stuck at her dead-end job, that geranium on her windowsill didn’t bloom anymore and fridge buzzed as disastrous death machine, no, world had to take this one beautiful, unchanging thing from her. Hot, as water she just boiled, tears poured from her eyes as she threw the cup in her kitchen sink. Tiny pieces flew in different direction, some aiming at her, some out of the window, even as far as through the little kitchen door to the even smaller living room. The horrible crack of cup, the scar from the piece that cut her eyebrow, not even her moulding tea were the most terrifying things in her little kitchen, but the transparent figure with rather displeased face expression.

“Well?” the figure screamed at her. “Do you burn everybody when you have a tantrum, or am I special, Ginny?”

She thought good chunk of broken cup hit her on the head, and she was hallucinating. But frustrated little spirit repeated the question. What a rude hallucination!

“I do not have a tantrum! And what are you doing there, down my kitchen sink? And how do you know my name?”

The creature grimaced.

“You talk to yourself, you rude selfish girl! And you know, you should answer questions first and ask your own later. I am genie, the proper one, who doesn’t throw fits like a child. If you apologize right now, I’ll forgive you and will let you live your pathetic life in pathetic peace.”

At this point Ginny was more annoyed than shocked. How dares this strange insolent creature insult her, demand an apology, call her improper Ginny and in addition live there down her kitchen sink without paying a rent?!

“This my kitchen! This is my sink and this is my hot water! And I can throw cups and tantrums however I wish! And I will not apologize for it in my own house!”

Spirit squinted his eyes at her, as if Ginny was pesky fly on his piece of cake. He sighed, and his face took on an innocent appearance.

“Well, then do as you wish.”

And quarrelsome genie disappeared down the drain.

Ginny looked around. Her kitchen was a mess: water splashes and ceramic splintered all over the floor, her pretty jar for her favourite tea sat sadly on the counter and geranium looked at her judging.

“I didn’t have to apologize,” she told them. “I didn’t.”

This situation left Ginny lacked of words. Somehow, the existence of genies didn’t seem strange, but their total insolence, well, that hit the nerve. To think she would burn anyone on purpose! She was not a bad person. She wasn’t exactly a good one, to be fair, but definitely not the burner type.

But girl didn’t want to waste her time overthinking the situation. In the end, it doesn’t matter what happened, but only how you deal with afterwards mess. Ginny was trying to sweep the floor, but pieces of her cup just moved in opposite direction. The water she wiped somehow grew in amount, and soon she had a large puddle on her counter. She tried to keep her cool now and distract herself with another task: hitting up some stew left in the fridge. But microwave somehow managed to make it even colder. Then she remembered about some leftover ice cream in the freezer only to find it melted spilled all over freezer’s shelf. What a splendid day, now she had to wash the freezer and call somebody to fix it. She had a list of emergency numbers given by her very gracious and very old landlady, but the phone made strange noises instead of usual calm beeps.

“I just need to lie down for a minute,” Ginny said to herself. “Everybody knows that nap can fix almost everything.”

But no matter how hard she tried to fall asleep, counting sheep, cups and genies, nothing helped. Her blanket folded around her ankles and both sides of her pillow were terribly warm.

The next two days were pure torture, everything in Ginny`s tiny household tried to drive her insane. Fridge and microwave switched their temperature regimes, all her clothes were wrinkled no matter how long she ironed it, pages in her favourite books glued together, and sometimes she could swear, she heard disgusting giggles from her kitchen sink. On a Sunday morning, Ginny decided that she had enough.

“Okay, alright, alright! Show yourself, so I can apologize properly. Please, please, let me apologize and have my clothes in a good state again, my kitchen functioning and my living room not trying to send to me to asylum!”

Little spirit appeared once again, bursting with laughter.

“Not going to lie, seeing you so exasperated was one of the funniest things in last fifty years. Before you there were only some bores living here, and the most entertainment I got is taunting their atrocious cat.”

Ginny knew the atrocious cat. It still lived one floor down with her landlady able to eat only very soft food and being able to produce sounds that didn’t have a lot with meowing in common.

“Okay, I hope you had a good run, because the party is over. I am deeply sorry that I burned you, accidentally, I insist, and really hope that we can continue our peaceful coexistence here, just as it was before, when you didn’t try to make my life living hell and I didn’t know that you exist.”

She awkwardly clenched her fists and tried to smile. Genie smiled back.

“No.”

“What?!”

She grabbed her head in distress. What more can this vexing creature ask of her?

“But you told me…”

“I told that if you apologize right now, which means right after the accident I will forgive you. But you decided to be stubborn and didn’t. Now an apology is not enough.”

Ginny growled and threw her hands in the air.

“What do you want then? My kitchen, my soul, the atrocious cat down the floor?”

Genie rolled his eyes at her dramatic tone.

“No, no and glad to hear the little tyke is still breathing, but no. I want,” he looked around the kitchen. “The cup.”

“Cup,” Ginny frowned. “You want to have tea? I thought you were not particularly fond of hot water.”

“Your wicked sense of humour is killing me. No, silly, I want the cup. The one you spilled boiled water from.”

“But…” Ginny glanced at the rubbish bin. “It’s gone. I`m not even sure I found all the pieces.”

“That is not my problem,” Genie said inspecting his non-existent manicure. “Find the cup. And then we can talk about peaceful coexistence.”

He left Ginny with a conundrum and bitter smell of smoke.

But there was no room for hesitation or despair. Ginny fished up old superglue and went through her rubbish bin. Most of the cup was here except for the handle and a big chunk that made it impossible to drink from it. She searched in the living room, remembering one of pieces flew in that direction. It wasn’t under the couch, nor it was near an old TV, not even somewhere on the pink monstrosity her landlady called vintage armchair. Sudden feeling of exhaustion washed over her when she leaned against the wall and sat on the floor. This all search is ridiculous. Her life is ridiculous. When she first moved in, Ginny felt so smug, saw her future, bright and promising, unfolding like flower in its bloom. She needed to succeed.

But maybe, everybody else was right and her dreams to land a job as an editor were foolish. Right, when they told her that moving out was a mistake and she couldn’t handle living on her own. Just look at her, obeying genie that wasn’t even supposed to exist. And the only person who supported her is so far away. She didn’t hear from her brother for more than a year, cruel clock on the wall ticking every minute since their quarrel. She got out an old photo album, each page filled with laughter and smell of their old wooden porch, birthday cakes and sea air, mother and father once so proud of her, so foreign now. And a brother whom she misjudged so harshly and now was ashamed to even apologize. The last photo pictured them outside his first job, she was sixteen and homely, he was twenty-four and so collected. They were so different. May 19^th, Mo’s birthday. She licked salt of her lips and got her phone out.

“Hey, Mo! Happy birthday! I’d love to wish you all the best in person, if you’re up to it and still live in the city. I hope, you’re happy no matter where you are. Love, Ginny.”

The phone rang mere minute after she hit send.

“Ginny, is that truly you?”

“Yes! Yes, hello, Mo.”

Awkward silence filled the long distance between phones.

“I thought you didn’t want to… I thought you think I’m like them and wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore.”

“I don’t…” she sobbed. “I don’t think so, I was wrong and when I realized that, I was so ashamed of my words, of myself that I couldn’t even make myself call you.”

“What changed your mind?”

She looked at the tea cup in her hands.

“Lately I’ve been breaking a lot of things. I thought, it would be nice to fix at least one.”

To her surprise, she heard Mo sobbing.

“I’d love that too. Why don’t we meet? On Thursday? I’ll get some ice cream for us at the old spot. You’ll bring some lousy present.”

She laughed through tears.

“My presents are not lousy.”

“See you later, munchkin.”

“See you.”

She wiped her runny nose with sleeve of her sweater and wanted to put album back, when something weird in the corner of the book shelf caught her eye. As if it was its natural habitat, handle of the cup lied near her school yearbook. She glued the handle back to the cup, almost loosing her index finger to its sharp edge. But where was the final piece? It was nowhere in the flat, that’s for sure. Maybe it flew out of the window? She had a habit of leaving them open especially in the morning, when air seemed to be clearer, and it smelled of new day, not old mistakes. The thought of it being somewhere outside made Ginny rub her temples and close her eyes. Would her little neighbour know if she bought identical cup, broke it and glued back together? Oh, whom was she kidding? He, probably, can hear her thoughts boiling inside of her head right now. Stomping her feet in anger, Ginny went outside, inspecting every bush and flowerbed, going as far as looking inside rubbish bin (not so much luck).

She stood akimbo eyeing three neat houses with suspicious look at her eyes, when… Yes! There it was, light blue ceramic piece cowered in meander pattern, sticking from the flower box of another house, surrounded by dense begonias and something that was quite ironically called creeping Jenny. But how could she take it out? Flower box was right beneath the window on the second floor. She should just ask for it. But how would that look? Like she was insane, which probably was true, but her neighbours didn’t need to know that. Rejecting any doubts, she started climbing the tree. God, it was probably high time to join Theresa at the gym, if she’ll ever forgive her for spoilt tea.

“Yes!” she squeaked, grabbing the last piece of the cup. Her glorious victory was interrupted by someone’s terrified sigh and big brown eyes.

The fall hurt her pride more than her body.

“Oh my God, are you alright? I’m so sorry!”

“Why is he sorry?” asked herself Ginny.  “It’s not like he was near my window on a tree.”

“I’m alright. Thank you…” she looked at the stranger in expectance. He was just staring at her.

“Oh, I`m Justin. I`m son of Mrs. Qeder from the…”

“Neighbouring house, yes,” Ginny finished in a hurry. “I`m Ginny. I swear, I`m not a stalker.”

Man laughed.

“I know. I saw you around few times. Mrs. Maple talks about you,” noticing Ginny’s horrified face he rushed to finish. “Only the good stuff. Like how polite you are.”

“Yes, climbing near other people’s window, very polite,” thought Ginny, but didn’t said anything out loud.

“So can I ask what happened?” the question came out so quietly, she almost didn’t catch it. “Oh, and you should probably come in.”

“I don’t want to…”

“Please, you’ve fallen from the tree. I need to know you`re alright.”

Ginny reluctantly agreed. Man eyed the little piece of ceramic in her hands but didn’t say anything. Justin was indeed an only son of Mrs. Qeder, a doctor and a very friendly guy in addition. Hence, why after he inspected her head and laughed at the brilliant invincibility of Ginny’s skull, she decided that it was safe to tell him the story of spoilt tee and broken cup, omitting supernatural elements, so her new acquittance won’t force her to make MRI.

“So was this very special cup?” he asked. Ginny blushed. “Or are there other reasons why you call your brother after long silence and climb the trees?”

“Let’s just say some otherworldly powers are trying me right now and I’m not sure how much of it I can take.”

Justin shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m sure you’ll manage. You always do.” He smiled at her and suddenly Ginny didn`t feel so lonely. It was nice to know someone believed in her even if he didn’t have any logical reason to do so. The special moment was ruined, when he realized what he said and cleared his throat “Well, so I heard.”

“Well, thank you” she answered shyly. “For these words and for… Well, you know, not being mad when you found me in your mother’s… front yard.”

“I’d say anytime, but do not climb more trees. Please. Or at least, do not do it alone.”

Alone. But that’s how she did everything. And she liked this word before. Why does it sound so hollow now?

But she just smiled and thanked him for his kindness.

“Deal.”

She entered her kitchen, looking at the glued cup. Maybe, she shouldn’t have called her brother. Shouldn’t have been so frank with her neighbour. She was so messy and couldn’t do anything right, and no genie has ever made her life worse than Ginny herself.

“Show yourself, please”

Genie appeared before her, and if she didn’t know better, she would think his face looked almost compassionately. With light nod of his head, spirit encouraged her to speak.

“Yes, Ginny?”

“I’m sorry I burned you. And I’m sorry for not apologizing straight away and lashing out on you. You had full right to… Well, do what you did. And you didn’t do anything that was worse than my own deeds. So that’s for you. Sorry, I didn’t know how to make it prettier.”

She glued the cup together and even wrapped a dark blue ribbon around it.

Genie stared at her for a minute, his eyes glinting with emotion she couldn’t decipher.

He took a look at the cup and sighed:

“Cup is a trinket. It’s already broken, so it has no use, even when it’s put together again. But people are not tableware. Farewell, Ginny not genie.”

And he disappeared down the kitchen sink.

Before she could think about his words the doorbell rang. Ginny rushed to the door and was met with Justin’s friendly gaze.

“I just thought…” he laughed awkwardly and only at that moment she realized he had something in his hands. “Well, your cup is broken, and your tea went bad, so I guessed…”

“Why don’t you…” Ginny stuttered, unsure of herself. “Maybe, you’d like to come in? Make sure the tea is good?”

To her great relief, Justin smiled.

“I would like it.”

This time preparing two cups of her new favourite tea she made sure not to spill any hot water down the sink. Just in case.