All in a Cup of Tea

Mirabelle gingerly placed her old-fashioned tea kettle full of water on the stove top to boil. A soft smile played on her thin pink lips as she shuffled around the kitchen, her worn house shoes scraping the linoleum under her struggling steps. She tucked a loose strand of snow-white hair behind her ear and pushed her large, wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose just a bit.

             “Tia will love this new afternoon tea I found.” Mirabelle spoke softly to herself while she prepared the tea tray for herself and her granddaughter.

             Tia was Mirabelle’s only grandchild, and she loved to shower her with affection and attention. Mirabelle wouldn’t even consider the days when her precocious granddaughter would grow too old to enjoy time with an old woman. For now, she enjoyed the bubbly excitement of the ten-year-old and pretended that she would never grow up.

             Mirabelle sat at the two-top kitchen table which was set against the wall of her cozy apartment. She rested her already aching bones and silently wished Tia was there already to help her. It was getting harder for Mirabelle to do things on her own. She may have fought with her children, Savannah and William, when they mentioned Northshore Living Center, but she would graciously admit now how wrong she was.

             The one-bedroom residence was fully furnished with a love seat, coffee table and TV stand in the living area. Mirabelle, of course, had to bring her favorite recliner from home and added a side table so she would have everything she needed close by when she watched her programs. She loved to have a cup of tea and a scone with General Hospital.

             There wasn’t much of a kitchen, but Mirabelle had lost her enjoyment of cooking when she lost her dear husband five years ago. Along with the kitchen table and chairs there was an icebox, a stove/oven combo and a microwave. All taking up too much space, Mirabelle would grumble about. She rarely even used any of those shiny appliances. What was the point when the Living Center’s cafeteria was quite lovely. She could choose her meals the night before and decide if she wanted to dine in the great hall and socialize with other residents or if she preferred a quiet meal alone in her room, delivered to her of course.

             The living area opened into her master suite. Mirabelle found the queen-sized bed to be quite comfortable and loved the soft sheets and pillows. She would curl up with the quilt her late husband had given her one Christmas and her precious ginger tabby, Chester, would lay at her side. She was lucky enough to have two television sets at home. The larger of the two went into the living room and then she had a second one for her room. The Living Center didn’t recommend it, but Mirabelle said pish-posh to what they wanted. A quiet home left her feeling unsettled and she found it difficult to sleep at night. The lull of the TV helped her to drift off.

             The master suite also had some simple furniture to store her clothes and things, and the closet was just the right size to fit clothing and to give her some storage space. Mirabelle simply hated throwing things out. You never knew when something would come in handy.

             Mirabelle hated the bathroom which was adjacent to her suite. It was white. That was genuinely the best way to describe it. White. It looked like a damn hospital room, and Mirabelle did not like the way that made her feel. With all the handles and hooks and buzzers. She knew it was important and necessary, but it made her feel so helpless.

             That was why Mirabelle understood why her children had pushed her into moving to the Living Center. The facility and staff allowed her to feel independent while having the help she needed close by. Mirabelle had convinced herself that it felt like living in a hotel. Tia used to love playing “Hotel” with her grandmother. They would pretend Mirabelle was a guest visiting the hotel and Tia would be the hotel employee. Oh, how the two would giggle!

             Tia was just tickled when Mirabelle had purchased a silver tea cart with wheels and an old-fashioned tea set complete with whistling tea kettle. She would help her grandmother prepare an afternoon tea with cookies and biscuits and tiny sandwiches. They would prepare everything oh so neatly on the tea cart. Then the two would wait in silence for the tea kettle to finish boiling, both of them jumping every time it whistled. They would chuckle as they pushed the squeaky cart into the “seating area” (the kitchen table) and set their places.

             Mirabelle and Tia would clink their glasses together and take their first sip of the smooth, sweet tea, pinkies up of course. Tia laughed when the steam from the tea would fog up Mirabelle’s glasses. They chatted over the afternoon tea; Mirabelle kindly warned Tia not to ruin her dinner, which Tia would promise not to, and then of course would.

             The whistling of the tea kettle startled Mirabelle out of her thoughts. She chuckled just as she used to with Tia. Mirabelle checked the clock on the wall. Tia should be here soon. She took the hissing kettle off the stove top and placed it on the tea tray next to two teacups on matching saucers, two teaspoons, the sugar bowl, creamer and a jar of honey. Mirabelle looked proudly at the set up and couldn’t wait for Tia to see it.

             Mirabelle tottered around the apartment, straightening and dusting random items, but her patience was wearing thin. Her tummy grumbled, reminding Mirabelle about those cookies she had heated in the microwave. The smell of gingersnaps and chocolate chips wafted through the space. She looked at the clock again. It wasn’t like Tia to be even a moment late. She truly looked forward to these visits with her grandmother.

             The old woman paused in front of the mirror on the wall, and she took a long look at herself. Mirabelle usually did not agree with fawning over oneself in the mirror; she found it quite vain. But she didn’t see anything wrong with just checking to make sure she looked presentable. Mirabelle straightened her glasses once more on top of her nose. Licking the tip of her finger she smoothed down a few stray strands of white hair that had come untucked from her tight bun. She believed at her age the only appropriate hairstyle was up in a bun. Mirabelle also wore no makeup, only tinted moisturizer. She didn’t really care if it was tinted but it was a free amenity provided by the Living Center, besides Mirabelle loved how it smelled of peaches and cream.

             Mirabelle’s skin was the color of a sweetened café au lait, brown age spots freckled across the wrinkles. Her eyes, once the color of the deepest emerald, dimmed to a faded jade. Her diminutive frame and tiny features made Mirabelle look like one of those Russian dolls. Despite wearing no makeup, her cheeks were always bright pink like the dolls. Mirabelle’s smile seemed to be the only thing that hadn’t appeared to age. Just like when she was a child, when Mirabelle smiled, the room lit up.

             “I need a cup of tea,” Mirabelle stated to the empty room. She took the few steps back over to the kitchen table. The chair scraped the floor, and Mirabelle groaned, lowering herself slowly in the seat, careful not to break anything on the way down – anything on the table or on her body. Mirabelle hummed a soft song as she poured the steaming water into both teacups. She watched, her eyes focused and fascinated as the clear liquid turned brown, the tea seeped into the cup. Mirabelle set a plate in front of her and one in front of the empty seat next to her. Each plate got a white napkin and one of each of the cookies from the tray.

             Tia loved trying new sweets, just like her old grandmother. Every time Tia came over for tea, Mirabelle made sure to have one selection they knew they liked and another selection that was new. Their favorite was peanut butter. So far, their least favorite were the biscuits they tried. It was closer to what they would have a teatime in England, but both Tia and Mirabelle found them dry and tasteless.

             “Not peanut butter.” Mirabelle said suddenly. “That’s not our favorite.” She struggled to remember her and Tia’s favorite cookie. It was so frustrating when you knew that you knew something, but the words just won’t come to your mind. It’s quite maddening. Mirabelle looked at the cookies she had put out for today’s tea. Ginger Snaps and Chocolate Chip. Mirabelle laughed loudly and slapped a hand on the table.

             “Of course, chocolate chip is our favorite! What child’s favorite cookie isn’t chocolate chip?” Mirabelle checked the shade of the liquid in the teacups, deciding that it was time to go ahead and make her cup. She scooped the tea bag out of the cup and set it down on the saucer, careful not to splash. Mirabelle swirled two spoons of sugar and a splash of cream in with the tea; she stared hypnotized by the colors blending together. Then she added the finishing touch, just a dollop of fresh honey would make the tea that much sweeter. Mirabelle looked at the clock one more time and then glanced at the door, hoping Tia would rush in. She raised the cup to her lips and sipped cautiously, making sure the liquid wasn’t too hot.

             She kept her eyes focused on the apartment door, growing more and more concerned about her only grandchild. Mirabelle absently grabbed one of the cookies off the plate in front of her and took a small nibble. She wanted to save most of it for when Tia arrived, but the fresh smell was too much to completely resist. Mirabelle took another sip of tea; a bit longer of a sip this time as the liquid had cooled and was just the right temperature.

             “That’s strange,” Mirabelle whispered, glancing down at the cookie in her hand. “I got ginger snaps and chocolate chip cookies for today’s tea.” She looked from the cookie in her hand to the ones left on the tray. Her eyes widened and the hand holding the cookie started to tremble. “I didn’t get peanut butter!” Mirabelle shrieked, the sound echoing in the empty apartment.

             There was a rapping at the door. Not a gentle knock like her Tia would do. The rapping turned into a pounding and Mirabelle could hear someone at the door.

             “Ms. Mirabelle, you doing okay in there?” Mirabelle recognized the soft, sweet voice of that little nurse who worked the afternoon shifts on the weekend. What was her name again? The pounding continued. “Ms. Mirabelle! I’m going to need you to answer me!”

             Mirabelle heard a key jingling in the lock. She smiled, a reminiscent smile that saw her granddaughter Tia opening the door and rushing in, her high-pitched giggles filling the apartment. “Mybelle!” Tia would call, throwing her arms open wide for her grandmother to scoop her up into a tight hug. Tia used to try to imitate people’s names and tried to say “Mirabelle”, but it came out sounding like “My Belle”. Mirabelle loved it so much that they stuck with it.  

             But it wasn’t Tia who came rushing in. It was that little nurse and the African American guard that worked the same shift. His name was….Carl! Mirabelle smiled at the two of them, “Why are ya’ll rushing in here like that?” The little nurse crouched down next to Mirabelle. Her nametag said, “Vicki.” Vicki! That was it!

             “Ms. Mirabelle, we heard you screaming.” Mirabelle stared at Vicki; her eyes crinkled in confusion. A shaking hand rose up to her neckline.

             “Me? I was screaming?” She felt ridiculous asking someone what she may or may not have done herself but here she was. Vicki only nodded, those puppy dog brown eyes shining with empathy. “I’m terribly sorry, Vicki. I’m not sure why on Earth I would….”

             “Don’t you worry, Ms. Mirabelle.” Vicki stood up and straightened her knee length skirt. “I’m just glad you are okay. What’s this here?” Vicki reached down for Mirabelle’s other hand that was clutched on the tabletop. Cookie crumbs were scattered all over the table, on her lap and across the floor. Mirabelle’s eyes followed Vicki’s hand and wondered when all this mess happened, and who was going to clean it up. “Ms. Mirabelle, what happened to this cookie here?” Vicki asked with a fixed smile. Mirabelle looked up at Vicki, confusion fogging up her mind again. She couldn’t understand why Vicki looked concerned. She was talking to her with a smile and kindness in her voice, but Mirabelle could tell that Vicki was on edge.

             “What cookie?” Mirabelle watched Vicki open her clenched fist and the peanut butter cookie crumbs poured out of her hand like sand breaking free of an enclosed space. Her eyes grew wide again. Her heart pounded in her chest. Mirabelle was so small that the pounding of her heart felt like it was vibrating her whole body.

             “Ms. Mirabelle, let’s go take a walk.” Vicki held Mirabelle’s arm gently and applied just enough pressure to encourage her to stand.

             “No! Vicki I didn’t get the peanut butter! I swear to you!” Mirabelle screamed at Vicki, her hands flailing wildly. Vicki nodded at her, not saying a word. Did she not believe her? “Vicki, I swear. I didn’t get the peanut butter. I remember that Tia can’t have the peanut butter cookies.” Mirabelle stopped screaming, but her heart did not stop racing. A deep sadness spread throughout her body and tears poured from her eyes. “I didn’t get the peanut butter,” she choked out through sobs. “I know she is allergic. Her mother made sure I would remember.” Mirabelle sobbed quietly for a few moments. The next time she spoke her voice came out in a harsh, raspy whisper. “Ever since I gave her the wrong cookie that one time….” Mirabelle lowered her face into her hands, her voice trailing off as emotions overwhelmed her. Vicki swallowed hard three times, trying to control her own emotions. She gently rubbed Mirabelle’s arm, praying silently to whoever was listening.

 “Tia is coming over for tea. She should be here any minute, Vicki.” Mirabelle was looking at Vicki with a bright smile on her face. Tears were still dripping from the corners of her eyes, and her cheeks were still damp, but Vicki was grateful the memory was forgotten. Memories of Tia were always rough, especially today with the one-year anniversary of her death only a week away.

             Vicki lowered herself into the chair opposite Mirabelle and continued to stroke her arm. The repetitive motions felt comforting and sent warmth through her chilled body. “Yes, Ms. Mirabelle, I know. I’m sure Tia will be here any minute. How about I help you clean up for her?” Vicki busied herself by sweeping up the cookie crumbs and cleaning Mirabelle’s hands off. She replaced the cookies on the tray with all chocolate chips, tossing the remaining peanut butter cookies into the trash. Vicki caught Carl’s eye, who had been standing silently in the corner waiting to be needed and motioned to the trashcan. Carl snatched the bag out of the can and was out of the front door in a matter of seconds. “There now. Isn’t that better?” Vicki asked, encouraging Mirabelle with the comforting smile that had gotten her this job in the first place.

             Mirabelle smiled in answer, but her eyes had glazed over again. She sipped at the tea and nibbled on the chocolate chip cookies. Vicki had removed the second set of everything, hoping this episode was over. “Well, you enjoy your tea Ms. Mirabelle. Let me help you over to your recliner. Aren’t one of your programs on?”

             “Oh, yes! Thank you, Vicki. You are such a doll.” Mirabelle settled her tiny frame into the oversized recliner. Vicki laid the crocheted blanket across her lap. She helped her get her teacup and plate of cookies situated on the side table and assisted Mirabelle with finding a program that made her happy.

             “Can I help you with anything else Ms. Mirabelle?” Vicki waited for Mirabelle to respond. The old woman looked up at her from her spot in the recliner. Vicki was saddened to see a flicker of unrecognition flash across her face. She held her breath, seeing how this would play out.

             “No, no thank you dear.” Mirabelle shooed Vicki away with a flick of her hand. She heard the door click shut behind her. Mirabelle sipped her tea, thinking about what a lovely day she had with her Tia. She was excited already thinking of the next time her only grandchild would come for a visit.