Your Cup of Iced Tea

CW: Contains themes of loss and grief

Do you remember? The summer heat, the blazing curiosity, and the iced tea that you somehow messed up? You were an American foreign exchange student, which meant you didn’t know how to make tea, therefore didn’t know how to make iced tea, so you panicked and dumped four tea bags into a tea cup with icy water? I remember your red face when I exposed the weird flavour and your warm, fumbling hands as you went to take the tea away from me, which ultimately spilled onto my dress. You were acting like a chicken with its head cut off– hah! But, despite the chaos, I think that’s the moment that I fell for you. And I still have it–the tea cup–obviously not anything else…

Anyways, I think it’s funny that I came around to fancy you. I always thought that I was going to fancy a masculine man– someone with a beard, nice muscles, and a clean smile. But then I met you. The opposite of my ideal man. No facial hair to be found, slimmer than a girl, and an awkward, crooked smile. But God apparently fated us to be together at that moment. I didn’t know that our time would be cut so short.

I don’t exactly know what it was about you, but you were just so damn attractive. It must’ve been that brain of yours. You were talented in humanities, mathematics–hell, you were good at all the subjects, but just too humble to say–yet had no idea how to treat a woman. You enjoyed sticking your head into books over socializing, yet would talk for hours and hours on end talking about the nuances of your favorite story and complaining about the character dynamics. Sometimes even crying to me about a character’s death or betrayal. I loved that. 

You felt like a first bite into a mango. Your presence refreshed me, and I felt so at peace when I was with you. Being mere friends with you would’ve been enough to satiate my curiosity. Then I got too bold. I yearned for something special with you. I wanted to be only one who got to hear your passion for stories and see this other side of you. I told myself that you were going to be the one– my favorite adventure for the rest of my life. Too bad it was cut short, huh?

It hurt me to hear you say you wanted to go back to America. You could’ve stayed with me, we could’ve figured something out! I would’ve fought for you– even though you hated when I did that. I should’ve begged you to stay– should’ve taken you to our favorite places and forced you to look at me, showing you what you were going to miss if you left this world behind. But you made your stupid promise that you would come back and send letters every month, and I believed you. Because you were too good to break your promises. Because… with those brown, tender eyes, you could make anyone fold into believing your words. Such a siren. But it seems like you attract the worst things… 

Because that bloody plane had to crash. 

You won’t believe the mess I was afterwards. That rebellious side of me, which I always knew you always secretly loved, vanished the moment I heard that you were… that you… passed. I don't know if you remember her, but it was Anna who broke the news to me. I thought she was joking because she was the girl that always picked at me for dating you, so I thought she was trying to get a reaction out of me. Who knew that she was the daughter of a cop. I might’ve slapped her. Then the news came out and I… I broke down. More than I can admit. Made me realize that the only person that could calm me down was you. With your soft voice. With your warm hands. But you weren’t there anymore.

God, Icarus, I missed you so much. I missed your fumbling hand whenever you tried to grab mine. I missed your soft, patient voice as you nursed me anytime I got into a petty fight. I missed your presence as you helped me with my damn homework. I missed your sweet, gentle kisses. I missed your style of iced tea that you made for me, even when I taught you how to do it correctly.

I was so angry with myself for letting you go. Whenever I thought of you, I had this gnawing, aching pain in my heart. It was pure agony. I was so guilty for not making you stay, for keeping you safe. But I felt even guiltier thinking about keeping you here, away from your family in America. How I would've been the one to keep you in Britain longer, making you homesick. I felt sick imagining that I was the one who kept you from seeing your family. And I thought I would live with this guilt for the rest of my life. That I would never, ever be able to recover from this. From you. I was thoroughly convinced I would never find anything like you. A love like iced tea made wrong. And it’s true– I haven’t. After all this time, I haven't found anyone like you.

It’s been a decade- I’m twenty-eight now. A angsty romance writer now, probably because of you. No lover in sight, which is definitely because of you. I still feel trapped in the past, making iced tea Icarus-style with the tea set you left behind. I still feel eighteen, the same age as when I heard the news. And recently, I found myself pinning a lot of things on you. Blaming you for what happened, and what didn’t happen. I don’t want that. I don’t want to tarnish our beautiful memories, even though it was only half a year that we were together. And, it’s probably best that I move on. I don’t think it’s fair to you if I kept clinging onto you like this. I’m probably exhausting you by how much I’m keeping your memory alive. You probably want to rest in peace, and I’m definitely not helping with that.

So, Icarus Beckett, I’m breaking up with you. Sorry that you have to learn through paper and not in person, but you didn’t give me a lot of options, did you? But maybe you’re leaning over my shoulder, reading as I write all this down. I’d like to think you’re smiling, taking my face in your hands, brushing my tears off my face as you tell me, “I’m so proud, Dana.” Actually, scratch that. That's making me cry more. I hope you’re not in the room with me. I hope you don't mind the tear stains on our break-up letter.

Do you remember? It was snowy that day. The day that you were leaving. You gave me a lot of your stuff, you said that it was because you didn’t have enough room in your suitcase, but I knew you were just being thoughtful. And right before you went, you made one last cup of tea for me. Not Icarus-style, but normal, hot tea. I was crying as you said your final confessions and your broken, “I love you”. I was sobbing by the time you were kissing me. And you wouldn’t believe how cold it was as soon as you left. Goodbye, Icarus. I loved you truly. You’ll always have a place in my heart, maybe we’ll be together in another universe.

And I hope you’re happy knowing you ruined iced tea for me.