No tea to drink

I end the call with my mom, after apprising her of the latest turn of events. Covering my face with my palms, I try to calm myself down. I knew this was going to happen. I warned her. I fought with her. Tried to put some sense into her. But of course my mom didn’t believe me. I told her it looked suspicious. How could someone be so sweet, so kind when their eyes were pools of icy coldness that sent chills down my spine? She said I was envious of my elder sister, that I was looking too much into trivial things. Instructed me not to interfere in her daughter’s life. What she forgot was that I, the disappointment of my family, cared about my sister, loved and adored her.

I end the call to my mom and get up, unable to stay seated anymore. I pace the length of the living room, restless energy making it impossible to be optimistic. Uncertainty about Mia’s whereabouts was becoming more and more unbearable. It has been more than an hour since she called me, her usual chirpy voice transformed into a flat, stoic, emotionless sound as she spoke about what he had done. I never wanted to hear that detached, matter-of-fact voice ever again. It scared me. I told her to come straight over to my house. Surely she should have been here by now. 

With a frustrated sigh I stare out the window to see the sun dipping below the horizon, reflecting the last remnants of glare into the room. The rich crimson of the sky with small tinges of blush and azure, slowly fades away into gloomy caliginosity of the night, echoing my sinking mood. It’s ironic really – I used to find solace in the sundown; but today I see it as ammunition to my troubled thoughts. 

Perhaps I should read something. 

In my bedroom, I pick up the book I've been reading and take it back into the living room. And wait. And wait. My eyes are fixed indifferently on the same page for the past ten minutes. 

I flick the book carelessly onto the mahogany table beside me, the loud thud piercing the deadly silence of the evening, and let my eyes wander to the door for the umpteenth time since the call came. Instinctively, I grab my phone from the couch, where it was recklessly thrown, and flip it open. 

No new texts, no missed calls. I try calling her again. 

The phone trills and rings, trying to connect me to her. Fingers crossed, I hope she picks up the damn phone this time. 

She doesn’t. Instead, a pre-recorded voice tells me to drop a message. 

“Where are you? Why can’t you just pick up the call, damn it. I’m worried about you. Please call back. Okay? Love you”

I angrily throw the phone onto the ghostly grey couch, wincing as it hits the floor mat instead, and resume pacing.

I suppose I could prepare something to eat. Or to drink maybe; though I doubted it would do much good. Thinking of the limited list of concoctions I can make, I settle on the best, most effective one. Tea it is, because hey, sometimes all you need is a good cup of tea. 

My mind races with trepidation and anxiety as I bring the water to a boil and add some tea leaves in it. Instantly, the greenish brown color pierces the clear limpid water and spreads through it. As I watch the tea leaves spread their goodness into the transpicuous liquid, a sense of calmness unfurls in me, like a flower slowly blooming, and invades all my senses. My mind calms down enough to think this through.

I knew this was going to happen. Knew she would eventually get her heart shattered. The first time I laid eyes on that man, I had this really bad, unshakeable feeling. Phil put a sense of foreboding in me. Somewhere underneath his warm smile and saccharine sweet words, lay the horrendous heart of a heinous monster. His arctic blue eyes sent a chill down my spine. And I didn’t know why I felt like this. Call it a sixth sense, a hunch. But I think I knew even then that this had to do with much more than just a sixth sense.

After racking my brain for hours, it dawned on me that this anxious inkling might have been due to the spooky dream that I had the day before. Sometimes, I have these strange, uncanny nightmares, where bad things happen to people I don’t know. Each time there is a different attacker, but one thing I knew for sure was – each assailant was a monster, literally. They had eerie faces, monstrous arms, towering height, the typical specimens of behemoths. That day too I saw a similar vision; the only colossal difference was that this time it was my own sister. He had this evil smirk on his ugly, cruel face as he dragged her by the hair, and beat the pulp out of her. I tried to shout at him to stop, to scream for help; but no words came out of my mouth. I struggled to move, to run to her rescue; but my feet betrayed me. I heard a cracking sound as she hit her head on the sharp edge of the study table. And I woke with a start.

That was on a Friday, nearly two months ago. The very next day, she introduced Phil.

Of course I tried to warn her too. I requested Mia to be careful. I told her about the malicious vibes I got from him. And of course, it all went in vain. She didn’t want to hear a single word against him. I cautioned her time and again over the months. Begged her to stay away from him, but even to my own ears, the case was too weak, too feeble. Although, I noticed something different in her. Somehow she had changed. Like she had been manipulated, as though under some kind of spell. Kind of like my mom.

I break out of my reverie as something very hot spills down my arm that was kept on the slab beside the stove. Reflexively my hands pull away from the slab and I dart across the kitchen, after turning off the gas, to put my hand under the cold tap water. Then I carefully stain out the tea, just as the doorbell rings. I jump, startled and the cup of tea I had freshly made, falls out of my arms, and into the embrace of gravity, crashing down with a loud clang. I put my foot forward carefully, watching the floor for broken pieces of glass. So much for tea!

I sprint to the door, quickly pulling it open, tangible relief flooding me as I see her.

But all the relief rushes out of me in a breath, just as quickly as it rushed in, as I take in her condition. To say that I was merely stunned would be an understatement. She never drank. Never in my whole life had I seen her drink once. Not in happiness, never in grief. Not when she graduated, not when she got her dream job, not when she lost her best friend, and not even when dad left us. 

She has always been the strong one between two of us, both emotionally and physically. I was the clumsy, inept child; the overly sensitive klutz. So to see her blind drunk, sobbing like a broken child, to watch how she couldn’t hold herself up, to hear how her words slurred; I was dumb-founded, speechless. Her breath reeked of alcohol. A string of curses spout out of my mouth.

I shake my head to clear the dazed, dark thoughts clouding me. I had to take care of her. I bring her in and into the shower. I tentatively take off her clothes and help her under the cool water. Being so inebriated had made her maudlin. She breaks down into tears, muttering unintelligible words. But I can swear that I heard her say the word monster more than once. I could see the fear in her eyes as she said something about how he changed into this ugly terrifying monster.

Could my dream be true? Was it really a monster, like literally and not metaphorically? But that was impossible, right? Of course. What was I even thinking? I was turning insane. I shake my head again to clear my train of weirdly absurd and terrifying thoughts, and try to put my sole focus on taking care of her.

The huge angry welts on her skin make me see red. I could not think straight. Anger, revenge… those were the only thoughts coursing through me, though I was aware of my job as a sister.

It was like my mind had divided into two parts. The mature part was hugely relieved to see her home and doing its best to take care of Mia. The other part of my mind that was callow meandered along the lines of brutal punishment that the stone-cold sadist deserves. 

With meticulous attentiveness and a sister’s tender love, I take her to the bed and tuck her in. Her eyes flutter close, and she falls asleep almost instantly. Again I’m left alone with my thoughts. I linger around to caress her hair lovingly. 

No matter what, I will always be here for you. Everything will turn out all right.

With a last kiss on the forehead, and a final glance, I leave her to retire for the night. 

As I lay in my bed, looking at the ceiling, my eyes refuse to fall asleep, my conscious self overpowering the part that advised the mind to shut down and snuggle into the warm embrace of night. My thoughts are running a thousand miles an hour. What should I do for my sister? How am I going to bring justice to her? Will she ever be able to recover from it? Think positive, I chastise myself. Of course she will become her old self again, she has to. From there, my thoughts take a backward turn and resume thinking about impossible what ifs. What if monsters and demons and witches and hell really existed. I think about my dreams, and premonition? What if he really was a monster? Is that how he made her his puppet? I instantly attempt again to get rid of those weird, terrifying, implausible thoughts. But my mind had other wonderful plans. What if my dreams are some kind of presage? What if the nightmares I envision come true? Is it really happening to people. If so, why me? Why am I seeing these visions? How can I even help them if I don't know them? Such an astronomical amount of questions and such trivial list of answers to them. 

But one thing I was sure of. Whatever the situation maybe, I need to trust my instinct. Whatever my heart says. Because often times the human mind takes the logical path; and more times than not the problem is illogical enough to be impervious to any such logic. Sometimes, unexplainable things happen in this rational world, things that are beyond belief; and the only rational solution is to take the irrational one.

With that colossally comforting thought, I close my eyes and exhaustion finally catches up with me. Tomorrow will bring many new changes, huge conclusion, soothing consolations and hopefully, a good cup of tea.