Convection

       The plants on the windowsill had lost their green some time ago, the soil scarred with drought and raised without open curtains. The white wood beneath the mason pots was coated in a sheet of dust and dotted with dry, grey leaves that would crunch when the cat came over to perform its daily inspection of the house. It would step over the leaves, hoping to find some sort of reference to the green that once was, pawing at the blinds just as its owner once did some time ago, but its inferior thumbs proved unhelpful in exposing the plants and they’re surroundings to the sunlight, so with a sighing purr, it would hop from the windowsill and continue its route of the apartment. 

            This was the window that he opened as soon as he’d come to the kitchen, pushing the blinds up and exposing the dank kitchen to the once familiar sunlight; he heard the man behind him wince as if blinded as he did this. Outside the window, he could see the town on the horizon as the sun crept over the skyscrapers in the distance. Cracking the window open, the birds serenade resonated in his ears and kissed his eardrums with a serene touch. He let himself smile at the picturesque scene through the modest window. The calm before the storm, he thought to himself.

            “Tea? I know you have to have some around here.”

            “Um, top right of the cabinet to your left I think.”

            He nodded and followed his directions, finding a single green box on the top shelf. He wondered why it was so high up; the rest of the cabinet was empty. “You have that kettle still?”

            “Kettle?”

            “You know, that fancy black one that Elise got you for your birthday a couple years ago?”

            “Oh, yes. I think it’s in the next cabinet over.”

            “Perfect.” He reached for the next cabinet over and when he opened it, an army of cans awaited him. The shelves were full of chromatic labels and shiny aluminum that almost overloaded his senses. Peaches were intermingled with the soup, tuna with the vegetables, and in the very same top corner, the tea kettle sat by itself. He scrunched his eyebrows. Some of the cans were opened and even though he couldn’t see it, something told them most of them were hollow.

            “How’s work been Mike?” He grabbed the kettle and walked over to the sink, twisting the squeaky faucet that lagged a second behind the water finally sputtering out into the kettle.

            “Good. A little repetitive, but nothing bad I guess.” 

            “Nothing wrong with that.” He turned his head just so Mike was at the edge of his peripheral and gave him a little smile. “Last time we talked, you mentioned something about a promotion, right? Something something manager, something something produce department.” He heard the echo of the hot water in the kettle grow quieter and turned the water off before it could spill over. 

            “Oh yeah. I didn’t end up getting it, just a cashier still. That was a while ago, I actually forgot about that.”

            “Couple years ago, I think. We haven’t caught up in a bit.” He walked over to the stove and placed the kettle on the front burner as he flicked it to medium-high heat. “I mean, I know I reached out, but it was a game of phone-tag.” He turned around to face Mike and leaned back on the cluttered counter next to the stove. “A little one-sided, if I may add.”

            “Don’t try to guilt trip me Warren.”

            “I’m not, promise.” He smiled and went to grab the tea from the cabinet. “I just wish you’d reached out more, y’know?”

            “Busy I guess.”

            “Me too.” Warren rummaged around through some of the cabinets for mugs but was left empty-handed. 

            “Drawer under the stove.”

            “Oh, that makes sense.” Warren chuckled and knelt down to open the low drawer where he would usually keep his sheet pans and such but found what he was looking for instead. There were only three white mugs sprawled out in the metal drawer with words on each. “Best Bride Ever”, “Greatest Groom Ever”, and “Puerto Vallarta 2018”. He winced at the expired assortment, and grabbed the lesser of three evils, leaving the bride mug alone. He set the mugs next to the stove and moved to sit down across from Mike, who was alone at the small kitchen table. “You used to have a lot more tea varieties. Lost your taste for it?”

            “No I still like it.”

            “Just not as much of a connoisseur anymore?”

            “As long as I get the caffeine, who cares how it tastes.”

            Warren sighed. Steam was starting to slither out of the spout of the kettle. “That’s one way to put it.”

            “Yeah.”

            “You’re the one that got me into tea y’know. I used to be more of a coffee guy.”

            “Yeah I remember.”

            He nodded awkwardly, patting his thighs randomly. “Yup.”

            They starred at each other for a few moments, their eyes hastily looking at everything but each other. When they did lock eyes, they’d quickly flutter away from each other. The room was slowly growing warmer, as if the silence had invited the heat in. 

            “Is there something you wanted to say Warren?”

            “What? No. I mean yeah I guess, but—”

            “I’m not a child, you can just say it. It’s not like I’ll throw a tantrum.”

            “I know that. I just don’t know how to say it.”

            “You want to ask if I’m depressed right?”

            “That’s a bit bold, isn’t it?”

            “You want to say ‘boy it’s so dark and brooding in here. You barely talk to me ever since the divorce. You haven’t been talking to any of our friends.’ Does that about sum it up? Is there more?”

            “No, you about hit the nail on the head I guess.” Warren realized his fists were clenched as his palms were growing moist. He had to focus on loosening himself but found it hard to keep himself constituted. “Maybe a couple of other points too.”

            “I’m fine, Warren. You don’t have to worry about me.”

            “We’ve been friends for over a decade, I get to worry about you.”

            “I never asked you to.”

            “Well, that’s a damn shame for you then, isn’t it?” He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly. A low whistle began emanating from the kettle behind him. He felt a bead of sweat linger on his widows peak. 

            “I’m doing just fine. I’m working, I’m paying my bills. I have food.”

            “Food your lanky ass clearly isn’t eating.”

            “Didn’t realize you were a dietician, Warren.”

            “Jesus Mike.” He scratched his forehead and sighed. “Look, I know you haven’t been at work in a couple months and I know all those cans in there are probably empty because, what, you don’t recycle anymore? How long have those been sitting in there?”

            “I don’t know. She wanted to make a sculpture with them or something. The hell should I know?”

            “I’m not trying to make you mad Mikey.” The whistle grew louder behind him, he felt like a lifeguard had spotted him running at the pool. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

            “Did I not just tell you I’m fine? You’re not my shrink Warren.”

            “I didn’t say I was—”

            “Then stop acting like it.”

            “Why are you cutting me out of your life?”

            “I’m not.”

            “Not responding to calls and texts? Never coming out with the guys anymore? I’d argue against that.”

            “If I didn’t respond to texts you wouldn’t be here right now.”

            “You know what I mean!”

            “Use your inside voice.” Mike scoffed. 

            “What are you a child?” The whistling was growing louder, Warren felt like he was going deaf and wondered if the steam was coming from his ears too.

            “Don’t patronize me!” Louder.

            “Stop messing around then!” Louder.

            “Don’t yell at me!” Louder.

            “Don’t yell at me then!” Louder.

            Mike jumped up from his chair and Warren immediately followed suit, clenching his fists tight enough to whiten his knuckles. They looked at each other with narrowed eyes as the kettle filled the space with heat and an ear-splitting shriek. “I’ll fight you right now Mikey!”

            “I bet you would!” Mike shouted back, drowned out by the screeching in the background that had now alerted the cat, who screamed in annoyance in the cacophony. He started to move around the table, at which Warren went counter to him, circling the round table like Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

            But before any of them could lunge out, Mike stepped over to the stove and slid the kettle off the burner as the steam from the spout shot into his face, making him flinch bad enough to cause him to stumble back with the kettle in his hand, spilling some of it on the floor. He coughed and scrunched his nose from the sudden heat blowing in his face and waved his hand in front of him in a useless attempt at warding it off as it mainly redirected towards Warren’s face, who also found himself coughing. 

            Mike set the kettle on the adjacent, colder burner and the whistling went null almost immediately. They stood there like this for a moment before Mike took a step forward and proceeded to slip on the hot puddle on the floor and landed on his back, his feet flying in the air like a cartoon character. 

            Warren had moved to catch him, but was still bewildered by the heat and steam radiating in the small kitchen. He locked eyes with Mike who was staring up at him from the floor, his back still flat. 

            Then they both began to laugh. Mikes hands flew to his stomach as his laughter shot through his body, and Warren found himself leaning himself on the chair next to him to keep him from falling on the floor in a fit of laughter with his friend. 

            “Alright Looney Tunes, get up here.” Warren took a step forward and reached his hand out to Mike, who clasped onto his palm with his own. Warren hoisted him up and drew him into a tight embrace that Mike met with open arms, squeezing him back even harder as teardrops began to supplement his laughter. 

            “I miss her Warren.”

            “I know Mikey. You’ll get through it.” Warren patted his friends back and withdrew slightly so they could look each other in the eyes, of which were now both red from tears. “You still got me and the guys, don’t forget that.”

            “I know I know. I’m sorry.” Mike stepped back and wiped his face with the collar of his shirt. “I just thought she was the one.”

            “We all tell ourselves that my guy.” He patted Mikes shoulder and smiled. “Hand me the tea.” 

            Mike obliged and Warren took out two of the tea bags and placed them in the mugs, then went to pour the now silent boiling water in them. “You don’t even like green tea.”

            “Why do you think it was the last one in there?” Mike chuckled again. Warren laughed too. “You can take the groom mug. You still are one, unlike me.”

            “I was gonna give you the Puerto Vallarta one anyways, amigo.” Warren handed the now full mug to his friend and grabbed his own, and they each immediately took a sip and also immediately spit it out. 

            “Boiling water. Right.”

            “And obviously not steeped yet, why would it be? We’ll just have to wait a bit then.” He set the mug back on the counter.

            “I think we both get dumber when we’re together.”

            “Nothing has changed since high school then, good to know.”

            “I’m sorry I haven’t been social lately.”

            “I understand Mikey.”

            “Thanks for having this tea party with me though.”

            “Of course. I like feeling like a little princess sometimes.”

            They shared another laugh, but stopped as the cat announced itself on the kitchen table with a mighty purr. “What is it Harold?”

            On the table in front of Harold was a vibrant, green leaf it had found on its daily inspection, wedged somewhere between sadness and anger.