What’s a bit of spilled tea between friends

“D’you want one?” Brian said, waving a box of tea bags in one hand.

“You know why I’m here don’t you?” replied Tony, standing just inside the kitchen doorway.

Brian stood with his back to him and said, “Yes, Tony, I do.” Then he flicked the switch on the kettle. “It was pretty obvious when you came through the front door.”

“And yet, there you are making a cuppa.”

“Yes, here I am making a cuppa.” He took a deep breath and leaned both hands on the kitchen worktop. “Tony, you’ve known me for what, ten years? If you think I’m going to do this without tea first you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“It’s eleven years. Ever since Hackney.”

“Right,” Brian said, “since Hackney. That was a real shit show. Anyway, for old times’ sake, let’s have a brew and then we can get on with it.”

Tony nodded slowly, then said, “Fair enough, I’ll have one. For old times’ sake. NATO standard.”

“I know how you take your tea. I’ve made it enough times.”

Tony pulled out a chair and sat down at the small kitchen table. Then laid his bag carefully in front of him on the red and white checked tablecloth.

“Whatcha’ got in there, Tony?”

“Sandwiches,” Tony replied, his voice flat.

“Thought it might be,” Brian said. He turned back to the counter as the kettle clicked off. Steam billowed from the spout, fogging up his glasses. He dropped tea bags into the cups and slopped in the water. Then leaning one hip against the counter he polished his glasses while the tea brewed.

After a few moments Tony said, “Look Brian, I’m really sorry about this.”

“Ah don’t be,” Brian said, as he squeezed out the tea bags with a spoon and dumped them in the sink. “Work’s work, I know the score, just as well as you.”

Tony watched as Brian picked up a folded over bag of sugar and dumped two heaped spoonsful into a mug. Brian paused, and turned to catch Tony’s eye, then added two to the second mug. The spoon chinked against the chipped mugs as he stirred the dark brown liquid.

“Don’t you normally take it Julie Andrews, Brian?”

“True, I do. But I figured today I’d make an exception. For old times’ sake.” He picked up both mugs with one hand, then opened the fridge with the other.”

Tony stood up quickly, “Careful Brian.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He reached inside and picked up a bottle of milk, then closed the fridge with one foot. “That careful enough for you?

Tony simply nodded and dropped back into his chair, his right hand resting beside his sandwiches again.

Brian dumped the mugs down in the middle of the table, slopping the tea across the plastic tablecloth. “Arse,” he said, then put the milk in front of Tony. “Do the honors, Mate.”

While Brian grabbed a cloth from the sink, Tony opened the milk with his left hand and sniffed it cautiously, it was fresh…ish, then added some to each of the chipped mugs.

With the tea wiped up, Brian took the chair opposite Tony. They sat in silence, the mugs of tea steaming in the middle of the table.

“Cheer up, Tony. It’s like a flipping mortuary in here.”

“Not funny, Brian,” he replied reaching out for the mugs.

“Be my guest,” Brian said, waving one hand at both cups of tea. Tony paused before picking up the mug nearest to him. A slight frown flashed across Brian’s face, it was there for barely an instant, but Tony saw it, smiled and relaxed back into his chair a little further. Brian took the other mug, he paused and blew across the surface, steaming his glasses again, then carefully took a sip.

“Cheers. To old times,” Tony said, taking a mouthful.

Brian said nothing. He took another sip and put down his mug. Then pulled off his glasses to polish them again, his eyes glistening as he locked stares with Tony.

“Don’t do this to me, Mate.” Tony said, looking down at his sandwich bag, where it lay on the table between them. His sipped his tea, the oppressive silence sitting heavily in the room. “Can’t we just finish our tea like civilized men?”

Brian said nothing. He put his glasses back on and picked up his mug. His eyes never leaving Tony’s face. Tony looked up, meeting Brian’s stare. They sat in silence, once more, sipping their tea, watching each other over the rim of their chipped mugs. The years of friendship clearly visible in the tears on both their faces.

After several minutes, Brian finished his tea with a few large gulps, wincing as the liquid scalded his throat. Then slowly took a white handkerchief from his pocket, lifted his glasses and dried his eyes. He took a deep breath, watching Tony carefully, then sighed and said, “Okay, Tony, it’s time. Let’s get this done.”

Tony nodded slowly and took a last sip of his tea. It spilled down his chin and onto his crisp white shirt. “Shit,” he said, thumping the mug back down on the table, his face creased in a frown. Then he also pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the tea on his shirt. As Tony raised his hand to wipe his chin, the white cotton fell from his fingers and landed in his lap. He stared at it. His face became slack and a line of drool mixed with the tea on his chin. Then his hands dropped to his sides and he slumped back in his chair.

“How?” Tony said, looking up at Brian through lidded eyes.

Brian stood slowly and swayed. With one hand trailing on the red and white cloth and his feet dragging, he made his way round the table to stand beside Tony. Brian wobbled slightly as he picked up Tony’s dropped handkerchief and cleaned the last of the tea from his friend’s chin.

“It was in the sugar. It’s been there for a while. I’ve known this was coming, and I knew the boss would ask you. I just wanted to know if you’d actually go through with it.”

“Bbbuu…”

“I took the antidote, the moment you crashed through my front door.” Brian gestured to the bag on the table. “If you hadn’t brought your…sandwiches, I’d have just disappeared.”

Tony’s head drooped to his chest and his breathing slowed.

Brian picked up a pair of large duffel bags beside the back door, “Goodbye, Tony,” he said.