The Mystique of Tea

Calvin watches Norville as he pours both him and his guest a cup of tea. He thanks Norville before dismissing the butler from his greenhouse, leaving the two alone. His hazel eyes watch the golden spoon as it goes round and round in the porcelain cup. The spoon hits against the edge of the cup with soft tinks. Like clockwork, the rhythmic pattern from the spoon is soothing. 

His eyes trace the dark fingers with black French-tip nails and golden tips holding the spoon. The fingers then pull the spoon out of the cup and place it into the owner’s mouth. 

The woman decides to wear something appropriate for the casual meeting. Her navy blue power suit compliments her bodice; especially in her chest area. 

Her makeup is sufficient: a little blush with enough concealer, lip gloss, and mascara to pass off as an all-natural look. Her beauty is nothing short of exquisite with it complementing her high intellect.

Jessica looks better. 

Christine moans out in satisfaction as she pulls the spoon from her lips. 

“You must excuse my behaviour, Calvin. I haven’t had tea as superb as yours in a long time. It's such a rich blend of French rose and Japanese cherry blossoms,” Christine compliments. Calvin straightens up, making sure to tighten his necktie with smug. 

“Of course. I make sure to import the finest things money has to offer.” Calvin assures. He watches with a keen eye as Christine fawns over his tea. 

“You also take into account the humidity it requires for its fragrant scent. My my, you must tell me where you got it,” Christine ponders as she lifts the porcelain cup. Calvin raises his hand, lifts his index finger and moves it from side to side. 

“Absolutely not. I have my secrets, you know,” Calvin's answer causes Christine to gasp. 

“Oh Calvin, how could you?” Christine says while clutching her chest, squinting her eyes and imitating groans of pain. “Your words break my heart,” Her mocking tone with her exaggeration of sadness causes Calvin to laugh. After a few seconds, Christine joins as they feel each other’s presence. 

Calvin glances around the transparent room. The flowers, usually a painted background behind him, flourish around Christine. If he looks carefully, he can see them breathing around her. 

“So, how is your PhD coming along, Calvin?”

“Fantastic. I will admit that the work is intense, but I have managed to work around it to fit my schedule. How about you? I hear that you got funding from three foundations to build your own lab at the estate you’re living in?” Calvin asks. Christine sneers as she continues to stir her tea. 

“That’s such nonsense. The only funding that I received was from the Okoro Foundation. It’s not a surprise that those imbeciles managed to spread such a dreadful lie. However, I cannot complain. They are merely jealous of my resources. Besides, no foundation can afford the meticulous laboratory my work requires,” Christine clarifies. Calvin uses this opportunity to make a slighted statement.

“Don’t you mean that they are jealous of your nepotism?” Calvin asks. Christine stops stirring and takes a sip from her tea while shrugging. The man smirks as he watches the woman sigh in satisfaction from the tea. His tea.

“No difference. I regard my father’s research as my own. His retirement alongside my mother’s does bore him from time to time, so he tends to make large investments,” Christine explains. Calvin scoffs at her words. 

 “Is that so?” Calvin asks. 

“No. I just felt that it was better to say that than admit embezzling from the old man,” Christine's statement piqued Calvin’s interest. He takes another sip from his warm cup. 

“Really?” Calvin questions. Christine winks before nodding her head, subtly letting him know that her previous statement about stealing from her father is another lie. He decides to let it go as she’ll eventually talk more about herself at another time. 

“Of course,” Christine says with a shrug. Calvin nods and takes another sip from his tea. 

“You know, I am happy to hear that your endeavours with Jessica are going well. What’s the next step to fully obtaining her?” Christine asks. Calvin rolls his eyes, 

“Nothing. Everything has been set up in my favour. All I have to do is wait for her to fully submit to me,” Calvin states. This causes Christine to release a snort. 

“Good one, Calvin. You almost got me there for a second,” She says. It is only until Calvin’s face doesn’t change that she realises that he is serious. 

“Wait, do you believe that Jessica will choose you over her boyfriend of four years?” Christine’s question makes Calvin still. His once welcoming demeanour becomes rigid. 

He watches Christine take a sip from her cup, noticing a small smirk form on the edge of her lip. His left eye twitches as she places the cup back down on his table. 

“Of course. Her boyfriend is a small pebble. In fact, we are going on a date tonight,”

“I suppose. Then again, Jessica has been able to prove you wrong before. She did beat you in the election for the Science Committee. 

Whose to say that after leaving her partner, she will leave you for a Christian man, with good morals, amazing intelligence, and even better connections? She might even be using this date as a means to be provided a free meal at your expense,” Christine’s words remove the superficial emotions from Calvin’s face. He watches as Christine lifts the translucent crystal teapot and pours herself another cup. 

“Is that why you’re here? To steal Jessica’s place in my mental palace and stand by my side as my significant other? I don’t know if you’re extremely bored or full of folly,” Calvin asks. Christine stops pouring the teapot momentarily before looking up. 

“Absolutely not. I am only here to help you,”

“Why? Can’t you see that I already have her in my possession? Jessica has already given herself to me,” Calvin questions. Christine doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, she takes her cup and brings it to her lips. 

A long drawn-out sip echoes through the greenhouse, causing Calvin’s left eye to twitch again. Once she is done, Christin goes back to stirring her tea. 

“Well?” Calvin asks. That seems to catch Christine’s attention as she stops stirring the tea and pays him attention. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” Christine asks with a lack of certainty. To any other dolt, they would assume that she is confused or misheard him. But Calvin can see the shadow of a smirk beneath her expression. 

“Stop with this idiotic act. You know what I am talking about. How can you possibly help me?” Calvin asks once more, his patience waning. Christine releases a snort before shaking her head. 

“Oh Calvin, don’t you get it? I already did. Think about it, am I not the reason you even managed to get her physically?” Christine's casual question is a rude awakening to the distinguished man. So much so, that he doesn’t know how to respond to such a statement. 

“Before me, she would’ve never bothered. You claim that she has feelings for you, but that simply isn’t enough for someone as stubborn as her. However, when she saw me, a potential threat to her access to you, she finally decided to let you grab her.

Don’t you get it? Her jealousy of me led her to the palm of your hands. Otherwise, you’d merely be the side piece to cope with her God-awful relationship. 

Besides, this is for the best. Jessica doesn’t know you like I do,” Christine says with a cool voice. Calvin scoffs at the accusation. 

“What do you know about me, Christine? You know nothing about me,” Calvin's voice is slightly elevated from his standard calm. Christine continues stirring the tea. The once-soft tinkers begin deeply scratching the interior of Calvin’s brain. 

“You and I both know that what you just said is a lie,” Christine states. She finally stops stirring the cup and takes a sip from her drink. She makes sure to exaggerate the slurp. 

“What’s my favourite colour?” Calvin asks. Christine puts down the cup and stares into his eyes. Her low-level threat does nothing to take Calvin off of his edge. Looking into her chocolate eyes is hypnotising. 

“Your favourite colour was lilac before you turned nine. Now, it is scarlet,” Christine’s answer is spot-on. No worries, it was a simple question. 

“Who is my biggest inspiration?” Calvin asks. He leans back on his chair, confident that nothing will come out of her mouth. With a blank expression, Christine shrugs and takes another sip of her tea. 

“Your biggest inspiration is Hannibal Lecter from the book ‘The Silence of the Lamb’. Nice try,” Christine’s answer shatters Calvin’s previous confidence. 

“Who is my closest comrade?” Calvin asks. Christine chuckles, a clear 

“Do you know what is funny, Calvin? For someone who is such a lonely creature, I am perplexed that you’ve managed to keep her by your side for so long. 

But to answer your question, your closest comrade is Balance Greggio Dalman; but she likes to be called Lance,” Christine says. Calvin is at his wit's end. This moment reinforces Christine’s near-omniscient knowledge of Calvin and those around him, positioning her as an enigmatic observer who can see past Calvin’s guarded exterior. 

However, there is something that not even Lance knows. This is the question that can either confirm or deny his prognosis of Christine. 

”When did I read my favourite book for the first time?” Calvin’s voice is slightly raised as he throws the final question at her. Christine clicks her tongue in irritation. 

”Did you forget what I told you at the PostGraduate event? We are two of a kind; wolves hiding within the sheep. Our needs differ from others which causes us to lash out. The only difference is that I can see through everything, which includes you,” Chritine’s words hit Calvin deep. He remembers that night, the conversation that they had exchanged. The man never had a conversation so simple, yet compelling. 

“You expect me to say that ‘The Silence of the Lamb’ is your favourite book, did you? I don’t blame you, since you read it four times in two-thousand and eight,” Christine's playful taunt makes Calvin frown. Many people in his life; including Lance, his father, his staff, and even his psychiatrist will agree that it is his favourite book. 

“I know you better than anyone who had the misfortune of knowing you. Your favourite book is ‘Child of God’ which you read for the first time in your final year of high school,” Christine verbalises, making sure to not break eye contact as she finishes her words. The delivery of her words seemed as though she was reciting the news. 

“There is so much that I know about you. You don’t even know it yet,” Christine’s soothing tone does nothing to ease Calvin in the slightest. The man knows a threat when he hears it. After going through his head all the different scenarios where he comes up victorious, he falls short. 

It’s better to neutralise the situation. 

“What do you want from me, Christine? Money? Status? Power?” Calvin rationalises. Christine responds to his proposition with a scoff. She brings the porcelain cup to her lips and takes very slow sips. 

The woman makes sure that each slurp is louder than the last. Calvin’s left eye twitches once more as he has no choice but to wait for Christine to finish. 

“Your physical possessions mean nothing to me. I acquire my wealth and status. There’s nothing you can give me that I don’t already have,” Christine states. Calvin scoffs. It appears that he has made a blunder. 

“Then what do you gain by helping me, sitting on my land or infiltrating my psyche? Do you intend to kill me?” Calvin asks in intrigue. Christine laughs, taunting the usually stoic man. 

“Now why would I do that? Aren’t we friends?” Her playful words irritate Calvin extensively. He watches with a twitchy eye as she sips her tea with another loud slurp.

“You make me sick, Christine Okoro,” Calvin grumbles. This causes Christine to abruptly stop drinking. She puts down the cup, takes out her handkerchief, and wipes her mouth. Her previous playfulness dissipates into the tense atmosphere. 

“A monster pointing out another beast will not humanise the monster. If anything, with the way things happen, you will transform into something worse. There’s so much beneath the physical realm that you don’t know. 

I will admit that I am impressed by your ability to blend into society so easily. However, your little spark with Jessica will blow up in your face if you don’t heed my warning,” Christine says gravely. She looks around before continuing. 

“Do you know what I also know about you, Calvin? You’re a cowardly chameleon. A pathetic predator; shaping your image around the crowd, making yourself seem like the average person. You crave control but with me, it won’t work.

You can try ostracising, isolating or even persecuting me. However, your efforts will bleed dry because I am close to Jessica. Touch me and I’ll ruin everything she has built for herself,” Christine’s threat blows off the last of Calvin's reserve. He slams his fist on the table and stands over her. 

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!!!” Calvin bellows out. The voice that comes out of him is akin to a hound’s roar. Christine’s face expresses boredom, she could not care less about the imminent danger Calvin poses. Nevertheless, she decides to raise her hands in surrender. 

“Fine, I won’t touch her. I touched a nerve there, didn’t I? You can calm down now, okay?” Christine asks. Calvin, knowing that his only weakness made him lose his composure, complies. He sits back down, allowing himself to cool himself down once again. 

“State what it is you crave from me, then leave. I want nothing to do with you,” Calvin says with a deep prowl. He can feel his sinister side coil at the base of his spine, ready to attack Christine. It takes everything in him to suppress the real him. 

“Be careful, Calvin. Your scales are peeking beneath your mask again. We don’t want the real you to come out, do we?” Christine’s question is met with a glare from Calvin. The glare not only evokes death, but it also conjures up a brew of torture, blood, and screams of agony from Christine. Plucking out her nails from the nail bed. Slowly pressing a dirty thumb directly onto her eyeball. Injecting capsaicin through her carotid arteries. All these thoughts bring Calvin satisfaction.

Christine acknowledging the gravity of answering Calvin's request complies. 

“My motives are much more intricate than anything you can imagine. All you need to know is that I am on your side. Being with Jessica is essential to unlocking your full potential. So it’s a win-win for both of us. 

However, it will change the course of your life. You will never view the way you look at yourself again. Do you give me permission to transform you? Are you up for the challenge?” Christine asks. Calvin, not believing the preposterous words coming out of her mouth, decides to say whatever it takes for her to leave his premises. 

“Of course,” Calvin states. The certainty in his voice makes Christine nod. 

“Good. Well, it is my time to leave now. I hope your date goes well. Make sure to talk about me,” Christine says. Calvin looks at her—such an interesting request. 

“Why?” Calvin asks. Christine answers by taking her belongings and leaving the premises; just as Calvin requested. Before she does, an adjustment of a flower is added. 

“You have some marvellous purple petunias,” Christine says with a sickly sweet voice. This almost blows Calvin off emotionally. Calvin’s manifested anger is swimming in the depths of his psyche. 

Christine’s parting words linger as he stares at the adjusted petunia. Tonight’s date with Jessica feels like a crucial move on his chessboard—but now, Christine is planting a seed of unease.

Calvin sits alone in the greenhouse, reeling from a master manipulator's defeat. Then he sees something happen to the petunia Christine touched. He slowly gets up from his chair and comes closer, confirming that his eyes do not deceive him. Calvin watches in both intrigue and unease as the flower quickly shrivels and decays at extraordinary speeds.

Something is truly off about that woman. It appears her prowess extends beyond the confined spaces of reality. However, his need to understand her supernatural behaviour is not a priority for him at this moment; Jessica is.