Spilling the Tea

It was always nice being in close contact with him. It seemed that all my pent-up frustration would somehow just go away whenever he was close. He had the calmest personality and made me laugh like a loon. He occupied my spirit through the sun and through the moon.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him when I saw him. If our meetings were a game of baseball, it was like leveling the playing field just by sipping on our occasional cups of tea together. A circular flow of energy would just drench me like the Niagara Falls. I was brought to life just by focusing on every word spilling out of his mouth and caressing my ears like Beethoven’s “Fur Elise.”

He always stood there waiting for me outside of that paradise of tea. We had our choice of bagged tea, powder, mint or basil leaf.

I wasn’t for adding sugar to the mix. He was the right amount of honey to make teatime delicious. Sip-by-sip, the warmth of the beverage just made me feel so nice. I’m still not sure if it was a fantasy or a horror film to which I had subscribed.

The burst of pure joy came in waves of REM. Joy and laughter filled the room between my ears. I closed my eyes and he emerged from the depths of my soul at rest.

My dream was unwinding with rapid eyes, one heartbeat at a time. I was suddenly staring at him. All I could do was enjoy the view. I was excited about our meeting; a warm, steeping brew.

He intently listened to my heartbeat to the tune of yesteryear; more elaborate with each chorus. Yesterday he planted a seed and today it became a forest. Out of my heart sprouted love standing soldier-like to the sun hoping for his waters to quench my wants.

I was happy because he was surrounding me with his time and attention. I was under the influence of missing him forever. I always got so drunk on our experiences of teatime. I’d black out and wake up in a stretcher on a hospital room line. And when I’d awaken I’d see him there in my fairytale design that was scripted out by my reverie during rapid eye. 

We would sit there in the little corner café on Linden and just sip. We always ordered venti cups so we could extend the moments. He’d rant and rave for hours about his life, music and his family. Whether there was daylight to spare or in the midst of my sleep, I fell into the adventures of us sipping on tea. 

I was always attracted to his confidence. He had the most adorable personality. I loved the sound of his voice; much easier on the ears than the sound of my snores. It was definitely more than just looks that contracted the initial euphoria. My emotions went off the charts and as I tossed and turned, you could see sparks storming out of my movie screen in prism colors. I was walking a dream of love with no borders and no longer blue because it was high noon. If the moments of us meeting were a drink, it would be 190 proof.

I felt little pockets of comfort just sitting there right beside him. It was like a breath of fresh air as opposed to the requiems I’d recently been singing. Right there at our table, we were adjusting the meaning to what we had; as opposed to our situation being like Al Gore’s chads. There he was and there was I, sipping on tea and spending time.

The excitement would wane every time mother nature took me to a commercial break, and I clamored awake to leak a lake. Right there after, there we were again drifting into the dream of celestial heavens, spilling the tea.

All the garnered memories danced through all the hurts and freed up the thoroughfare to dreamland. With his compelling voice, he called out my name and said, “here I am.”

I couldn’t let this opportunity to be by his side pass. Every time he calls to my mind a memory, we are together again throwing cups of tea back.

The last encounter though was different. For some reason, I wanted to be dressed to the nines so that when it was our moment in time to just sip and chat, there would be no minor keys, sharps or flats. I felt overwhelmed with peace when I saw him walk into the door. A mixed bag of feelings slowly took over my core.

His beautiful smile always made my heart skip a beat. He’d say hello and my heart would start to race like a NYC marathon running athlete. I tossed and turned while sipping tea with honey in the midst of my zees. We’d tongue a guitar chord together when our mouths and tongues would meet.  

The feel of the skin of his hands made me feel weak. I remember his touch, his smile, and his voice like music that keeps on haunting me. He was a song that echoed, that you simply could’t stop singing. He was a gone but not forgotten rhythm-a-ning.

Then right there, I’d be filled with delight. We sat in the middle of a marble floored room sipping on chai. He got up went to the counter and asked the sales associate for an order of fries. He told me he wanted to share it with me so ordered the largest size.

He said he had something that had been lurking through his mind. He told me that he had been meaning to ask me for a very long time. He said with piercing words, “do you think we have met our destination?” I didn’t really understand, and I had a doubt invasion.

The dream turned to a war that I was fighting with myself. Shots were flying all around and my hopes sat on a shelf. I sipped in another gulp-full of that satiating tea and there I was again right back to where I wanted to be.

I said, “I’m not sure what you mean. Can you explain what you asked?” I hated that I had to be real about how much understanding that I lacked. I wanted to impress him and make him think good thoughts of me. I wanted him to see more than the heart I wore on my sleeve. But that moment left me feeling like I was wearing my birthday suit. Yet, despite all that, I felt like I had nothing to lose.

Another sip of tea and he was letting the words unravel. My rapid eye rolls usually come equipped with an arsenal of his rambles. He spills the tea and there I am drenched in his wine. Sleep beckons me to enter his heavenly plane and I’m spiced with honey and lime. I peel away the blankets and comes strolling in my mind are moments spent sipping tea at that Linden brewery with the ghost of Rapid Eye. 

The ambiance so sweet and warm and harmonious to the brim. Whether with daylight to spare or under the blanket of starry nights sky, I slip into dreams of him holding my hands with wrinkles of billions of seconds of time. I see visions of family photographs tattooed on the walls of the sleep zine. Whether asleep or awake, the tea just keeps brewing on the inside. And that is where he said, “Okay, I’ll tell you the truth because there is no reason to lie.”

My eyes opened up wide as I continued to tear into my prize of closed eyes for the night and his presence echoed through the snore cries. It felt like the soap opera “Days of Our Lives.” Yet he was no longer alive, and I laid there dreaming of him being by my side. A ghost of the past coming by every day just lurking in my heart. Teatime was our moment to sit there wrapped up in each other’s arms. We sipped on our chai and took in all that I could his ghostly charms.

He said, the question he had been dying to ask required my full attention. He told me that he could feel the excess of all of my affection. He told me that he had never really wanted to leave me heartbroken by his going away. He apologized for ghosting his way back to me. We sipped and we chatted all through the night. I was hoping that the moments wouldn’t just fly by. I wanted to be by his side just as long as I was able. Then he turned and said that the question he had to ask was very simple.

He said it seemed that the dawn of day had finally appeared. He told me that it was his time to climb up to heaven back into death’s care. And I realized that our teatime was simply not enough when he asked me if it was time for me to wake up.

The morning alarm came blaring through my room and woke me up. I rose up feeling enamored and missing the only one I had ever deeply loved. I smelled the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and heard the bluebirds outside chirping. A smile took over my face and I started with my day cheesing. My roommate came and asked me why I was so happy. I had no choice but to spill the tea.

He may be gone from the earthly plane and the truth of that still drives me quite insane, but I’ll always love our teatime during rapid eye.