A Tea for Anne

“I’ll make the tea!” Paul said eagerly, ready to prove his worth at any given opportunity.

He opened the cupboard door and analysed its contents, five exceptionally ordinary tea cups sat in unison.  

He could feel the eyes of Amy’s mother on the back of his head, an intimidating woman, a tea connoisseur; he felt a bead of sweat threaten to leave his forehead. 

Making a cup of tea shouldn’t be such a spine-tingling experience, it is however when you are doing it for your girlfriend’s mother who bears a reputation that strikes fear into the heart of men. 

Paul had heard rumblings you see, that this tea-loving angel of boyfriend death was not easily pleased, even Amy’s brother Steven had said so, and Steven doesn’t lie. 

Paul stood at the cupboard for an agonizing five seconds as he debated which cup to choose, he heard chatter behind him, but he knew the eyes of the devil stayed fixated forward. 

He grasped the red cup that had small black flowers, flowers are nicehe thought. 

He then swivelled around and placed the cup on the kitchen counter, but his momentum was quickly thwarted by an unwelcome foe. 

A hair. A hair sat at the bottom of the inside of the cup, a long brown straight one, one of Amy’s no doubt, and it threatened to ruin it all. 

Paul panicked. His brain went into overdrive as he searched for an escape. He made eye-contact with the arch enemy, her eyes almost said ‘the battle is on’. 

He could just simply pull the hair out, a simple pinch of the fingers, right in front of her fault-finding face. 

“Nothing to see here” would be the message sent, as Amy’s mother sits there thinking what the bloody hell else is in there?!

No, that simply won’t do. Perhaps a rinse under the tap will suffice? That’s an odd thing to do however, his prospective mother-in-law may think.

Are the cups not normally clean in this house? Are all dishes submitted to a rinse before use? My daughter won’t be seen with such a man. 

Intrusive thoughts were consuming Paul. This is it. I’m done for. Destroyed by the very  hair that she created. An evil mastermind without even knowing it. 

Ten seconds had passed and Paul needed to buy himself more time, a walk to the fridge to obtain the milk seemed like the ideal moment of respite. 

“Oh we don’t need the milk for green tea darling,” Amy adds with a sideways glance. 

Oh God. Is my every move so obvious? Paul thought. 

More time is needed, and every good cup of tea needs a teabag to go with it, so Paul embarked on the longest, most drawn out teabag search in history. 

He walked to the pantry and gazed to the left and to his delight there was not a green tea in sight, there was more time on the clock however, he still hadn’t found a remedy for that wretched brown hair. 

“They are just in that basket next to the brown sugar honey.” 

Ahhh Amy you’re so helpful, thank you. 

With the fridge out of the equation and green tea in his hot little hand, it was round two  for Paul with this stray hair, presumably Amy’s, that has set up shop at the bottom of this cup. 

Paul had started to completely melt, he’s lost the connection from his brain to his mouth, and the words just begin to protrude out. 

“So Anne, it’s been a bit hot this week hasn’t it.” 

More of a statement really isn’t it? He thought to himself. 

“Yes, I guess so.” Anne offered, bluntly. 

Her arms were crossed and her black hair sat in a bob, her amethyst coloured earrings hung low and she still had her handbag dangling from her forearm, as if she were ready to up and leave at any given moment. 

Her eyes were now staring at the cup, as if to indicate to Paul that it is still empty, that her thirst has not yet been quenched. 

Little does she know that the cup is not empty, there’s a great big hair at the bottom, ready to cause destruction.

Paul began to undo the packet to the green tea when something quite magical happened. 

The phone rang, and not just any phone but Anne’s. 

The time is now Paul begun to think, as soon as she looks away, even if it’s just for a moment, he would pick the hair out with one sharp strike, and Anne would be none the wiser. 

Anne picked up the phone and looked at it. 

“It’s Graham.” She said, with a roll of the eyes. 

“Answer it mum, it could be important.” Amy urged. 

Paul stood there. Yes answer it Anne, answer that bloody phone. 

Anne stared blankly at the phone, sighed, and gave in, she swiped across the screen with her right forefinger as her eyes peaked over her rose gold coloured glasses. 

Thank God. Paul thought. The time is now!

Anne lifted the phone to her ear and she turned sideways, gazing into the backyard. 

Paul noticed how long the lawn was, it sat just above shoe-level. 

Fantastic, she’s probably noticed that too. He thought.

He quickly gathered himself however, there was a larger predicament at hand and on that same thought he swiftly pinched the hair out of the cup and released it onto the floor. 

It was a feeling of euphoria, a crisis averted, the enemy denied, when all hope seemed lost. 

Paul turned to look at Amy and she stood there staring at him, as Anne berated her hapless husband in the background. 

“Goodness gracious Graham I told you to ring them yesterday and now you’ve left it too late!” 

Poor Graham. Paul thought. 

Amy smiled at him.

The kettle finished boiling and Paul placed the tea bag in the cup and filled it with water. Anne hung up the phone and eyeballed Amy. 

“Men, can be hopeless sometimes with small tasks.” 

Paul felt attacked, but then remembered his own display over the past five minutes, 

The moment had arrived, the tea was ready, and Paul placed it in front of Anne, who he presumed was waiting avidly. 

“What would you like me to do with this?” she said. 

Paul was shocked. My God, she’s even more delusional than I thought. 

Amy interjected.

“No sorry darling that tea is for me, mum had one just before you arrived.”