Want a Cup of Tea, Love?

Heading at a steady pace down the near-empty motorway, Everlyn blinked her eyes slowly and carefully. The oncoming headlights of the cars on the opposite side of the road were leaving star-shaped blotches at the edges of her vision, full-bodied celestial apparitions that threatened to blind her. The urge to reach up and press her hands against her screwed up eyelids was growing stronger by the minute, but there was no place to pull over and she was still a fair distance from home. Everlyn settled for meticulous blinking, hard but brief squeezes of her eyes to clear her sight. Not long now. Not too far. Just a little bit further. Soothing thoughts played on a loop as she continued the winding drive home, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the steering wheel tightened. Finally, with an almost audible sigh of relief, she released her stiff fingers from the steering wheel to flick the indicator stalk down as she peeled off the motorway. Coming to a smooth stop at the traffic lights, she allowed herself a moment to rub her weary face. It was much too late to go on a drive this long. But she had felt compelled, as if a hand had been placed on her back, gently but firmly pushing her out of the house. And as the red traffic light bled into the inside of her stationary car, her thoughts wandered, taking a familiar route down streets she had driven more times than she could count. Everlyn had let them, content to daydream while she was stalled at the lights. She felt her thoughts loop round roundabouts, scurry down quiet side streets, rustle through trees, as they wound all the way back to her house, where they lingered. They lingered, but then they moved, moved further than she was expecting, backing up before taking a different route, one that she recognised from the first turn, one she was not willing to take, not now, not now. Everlyn frowned, trying to pull the current of her thoughts back, to contain them within the boundaries of safe, keep them within the perimeters of good places, but they refused, pulled forward by a force unknown to her, a dark, bulking, menacing force, one that had steadily displaced the light in her eyes, one that took her thoughts down spiralling roads and dark parks until they landed squarely on the churchyard–

The traffic lights changed. Green light burst into her field of vision and she started, her thoughts snapping back into her skull like a guitar string wound too tight. She clumsily shifted the gear stick back and guided the car forward, her eyes wide and unblinking. She had tried hard not to think of that place, not to think of what it held; that had been the point of this drive, to get out, to clear her head, to get some peace, to get as far away from that churchyard as possible. Her breath caught in her chest and she fought hard to dislodge it. At least it’s nighttime. She calmed herself with this conscious thought, no longer allowing them to stray. I can make some tea and go to bed now, and in the morning, I’ll be alright.

Her neighbourhood was quiet, the streetlamps offering only the smallest patches of visibility as she pulled into her driveway. The cars in front of the other houses were still, their occupants tucked within their beds, their minds on the periphery of dreams. In other words, dead to the world, but safe. As she walked from her car to the front door, Everlyn envied them their sound sleep. She unlocked the door with shaky fingers and stepped inside the dark, quiet house.

Everlyn stood for a moment in the dim hallway before she clicked on the lights. Averting her eyes from the dining room ahead of her, she unwrapped her scarf and kicked off her shoes. She padded to the kitchen and began to bustle around, grabbing teabags and sugar from the cupboard and filling the kettle with clean water. The ritual of making tea soothed her, the gestures and steps familiar to her, allowing her mind to fall into a rhythm it had followed countless times. She hadn’t registered that she had pulled two mugs from the shelf in front of her until she turned around, her mouth opening before she could stop herself.

“Want a cup of–”

Her eyes fell on the solitary mug sitting on the right-hand side of the dining room table. The air fell from her lungs as her mind reeled once again. Her thoughts began to shift against her control, taking a solid form this time. She gasped as she felt the memory of arms wrapping around her waist, amorphous sensations rendered sharp by grief.

Sorry darling, what was that? I couldn’t hear you from upstairs.

She heard her own voice echo through her head in response.

I said, want a cup of tea, love?

Tears now welling in her eyes, Everlyn felt her body reliving the feel of Suzanne pressing her lips against the crook of her neck, heard her past self hum as she leaned back against her wife.

Tea would be lovely, thank you.

The memory dissipated, leaving Everlyn alone in her kitchen, gripping the kitchen counter with icy hands. But her thoughts hadn’t stopped. They had caught onto that memory, given it form, and they were moving again, moving beyond the limits of the house, down the empty streets Everlyn avoided in her waking hours, round the bends that led to only one place, the churchyard, the graveyard, where Everlyn’s wife now slept.

The click of the kettle behind her brought Everlyn’s thoughts back once more. She turned, a marionette on razor wire strings, and stared wildly down at the objects in front of her. Tea bags. Tea cups. Sugar. Milk. Hot water. She turned her head from side to side, not knowing what to do, where to start, what should come first, she needed someone to help her, she needed Suzanne, sweet Suzie, who always knew what to do, would always help without Everlyn ever having to ask, who would always–

Here.

The ghostly fingers were back, sliding slowly over her own. She breathed in deeply and caught a familiar scent – smokey kindling and freshly laundered clothes. Squeezing her eyes shut, not daring to look, Everlyn opened her trembling mouth.

“Suzie?”

Need some help, my love?

The tears were falling now, in hot, heavy drops as Everlyn nodded.

Okay, let’s start with the tea bags, yeah?

Everlyn allowed her fingers to move unseen, afraid that by sight alone she might break this surreal moment. Her senses were heightened, her skin prickling at the slightest change in the air around her. She could just feel, right at the end of the reach of her nerves, her wife’s warm body behind hers, guiding her hands around the various objects in front of her. They poured water over the tea bag, added sugar and milk, and stirred the tea as a pair while Everlyn kept her eyes closed, sinking into the all-encompassing experience of her wife. She heard a faint triumphant noise behind her and felt Suzanne’s hands begin to retract. Seized by fear, Everlyn held on, unwilling to let her go just yet. A laugh rang in her ears.

What’s the matter? The tea’s all made now, you don’t need me here anymore.

“But… I do. I do need you here,” Everlyn gulped, her voice small and disappearing.

Well then, why don’t we enjoy this tea together? That’s why you made it, hm?

Taking a slow, shuddering breath, Everlyn nodded. She opened her eyes to find a perfectly made cup of tea in her favourite mug sitting on the counter in front of her. She carefully picked it up, allowing it to warm the cold skin of her hands before turning and bringing it to the dining room table, opposite the mug that had sat there since the day Suzanne had died. Everlyn pulled out her chair and sat down, a low groan escaping her as she did. She stared down at her tea and felt herself smile as she heard the voice reverberate around her head for the last time.

Are you just going to sit there and stare at it? Hurry and drink it before it gets cold, sugar lump.

So Everlyn sat, slowly drinking her tea, while the memory of her wife flooded into each and every moment.