Dreamy Tea

Major Prompt: Start or end your story with a character making a cup of tea or coffee (for themself or someone else).

Other prompts included in this story: Write a story where a scent or taste evokes a memory or realization for your character. Include a café, bakery, bookshop, or kitchen in your story. Write a story with the aim of making your reader smile and/or cry. End your story with someone watching snow or rain fall.

Dreamy Tea

The scent of Chamomile permeates the air as the tea bags steep in the boiling water. I just love that aroma of sweet green apple mingled with earthy floral notes or so I forced myself to believe. I sat down for my first cup of the day to calm my nerves. The wafting aroma stirred dreamy memories and I began to reminisce.

I curled my fingers around my oversized mug printed with the words “eternal love”. As I sat looking out the dining room window, the sun poked itself out from the dreary clouds. It seemed noncommittal. Should it shine today or stay behind the clouds and let the rain fall? Like the sun, my feelings oscillated between full expression or repression as I write my thoughts down on this paper. Honestly, I have no idea where to start. I am just not good with words, especially when I open my mouth. I think I stand a better chance at writing them down. It affords me the time to edit my words before they dribble out of my mouth. Frequently, my spoken thoughts end up hurtful or just plain wrong. Oops, I tried to catch myself, but it is too late to stop what I said and I can’t take it back. However, on paper my words are under my control. I wish I had thought about this before everything unraveled. My mind now drifts to a previously happier time.

Before my life wavered, I was introduced through mutual friends to a woman seeking male friendship. I was told she had been involved in a dismal, dead-end relationship that ended several years ago. Apparently, she wanted to restart her dating life but was cautious. Mutual friends would give her some comfort vetting her potential date. I understood her concern and I agreed to an encounter with her. The blind arrangement was set in a coffee shop not far from where each of us lived. There would be no pressure if either of us did not feel a connection. In fact, neither of us would know each other’s name at that particular moment.

When I first met her, she was sitting at a table. I was instantly smitten by her face. I introduced myself. Upon hearing her name, Elise, I knew she was special. I learned much later that Elise was French meaning “Consecrated to God”. Certainly, her name was fitting regarding the origin of her beauty. God must have smiled when He created her. Her cheeks resembled the color of pink roses. Her smile radiated genuine joy and acceptance. Her auburn hair flowed upon her shoulders like that of an angel. Elise conveyed a sense of serenity when I came into her presence. I relished this vision of beauty in my mind from the moment I sat at her table. She gingerly clutched a mug that said, “eternal love.”

I asked, “Elise, what is it that you are drinking? It smells like I was strolling in an apple orchard with overripened applesauce on the ground.”

Then I realized at that moment the comment I made may not have been complimentary toward her choice of beverage.

“Oh, it is my favorite beverage, chamomile tea with a splash of honey. I’ve enjoyed it for years. It really relaxes me. Makes me dreamy, too.”

So, trying to cover up my messy words, I said “I think I’ll have one too. By the way, my name is Michael.”

Elise said, “Michael, I can tell you are a bit nervous. I promise I won’t bite you. The only thing I am going to bite now is the croissant on my plate.”

She chuckled showing her pearly white teeth. Then in a few large bites the croissant was gone.”

“Hungry, are you? Let me order you another,” I said with a half-smile.

“Oh, you are so clever! You know the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. “

I replied, “don’t you mean a man’s stomach?” We both then chuckled.

“In all seriousness this is my main meal of the day. I binge on carrot sticks and kale chips when I am at home. I need to watch my fat intake, and one croissant is all my diet plan will allow. I have big hips and want to slenderize down to a size two from a four.”

I looked at her in disbelief saying, “you’re kidding me, right?”

Again, she smiled. “If you were to take me to a fine restaurant I wouldn’t be opposed to eating a three-course meal featuring a juicy 24-ounce porterhouse steak.”

Muffling my amusement I countered, “of course dessert would be on the list as well. Then I paused and said somberly, “Splitting the check would be the order of the day, right?”

With a somber face Elise said, “No way, Michael. You look like a man of wealth. I am going to bleed you dry on this date and any more we have in the future. I am a relentless “player” of men. Didn’t our mutual friends tell you anything?”

My face was deadpan. I couldn’t believe what she said. And then Elise guffawed so loudly everyone in the coffee shop looked over at us.

And then I hesitantly laughed. So much for the initial serenity I felt. This woman is the complete package and certainly is a person I would love to have in my life.

I took her later that day to a fine restaurant. She in fact did order steak but only a six-ounce filet smothered in garlic and onions with garlic mashed potatoes. I did the same and we both reeked of garlic. It did not deter us from ending the evening with a smooch and a promise to call the next day.

And we did talk! Elise halfheartedly promised to give me fair warning about her use of humor. She is a relentless talker and loves to add subtle quips to the conversation.

I asked her” Are you just naturally funny or are you hiding something behind your joking?”

She said “you certainly are abrupt about not mincing your words. You know laughter is the best medicine for what ails you. Right now, Michael, you are giving me a pain in my side.”

I gulped wondering what I had done. My words escaped me without careful thought. Had I blown my opportunity to be with her?

Then Elise said, “You are so gullible. I love your sensitivity even though you are at times confusing and just awkwardly candid. Anyway, I love your companionship.”

No, I had not blown it! In fact, Elise frequently called to ask me out on more “encounters” as she called it. There were so many more calls resulting in more dates. Some men would be turned off by her zealous approach, but I found it exhilarating. I wanted her to be interested in me instead of me being the “player”. I loved being played by Elise.

Her humor became more evident the more she became comfortable with me. I avoided any discussion on her prior relationships, particularly the previous one involving a broken heart. Although I fumbled at expressing myself, I knew what my boundaries were at opening old wounds.

We became regulars at the coffee shop. We would exchange initial pleasantries and dive into the meat of our lives over cups of chamomile tea. I went from being a huge coffee drinker to a connoisseur of tea. All done at the hands of Elise. I feel chamomile is an acquired taste much like beer, however. You learn to love it or despise it. Let’s just say I love beer.

Those early dates with Elise were profoundly funny. She had me laughing so much so my side hurt. If I had to characterize her humor, it was natural and genuine. It was like she had a script writer inside her noggin. Elise could be hilarious at one moment then switch to being sophisticated and refined in the next.

We were having our chamomile tea when I asked her “Elise, I need to know are you or were you a standup comedian? Where do you get your comedic material.”

She casually answered me, “Darling Michael, you are my material! You make it so easy for me when you open your mouth. The amusing part is making sense out of what you are trying to say and then replaying it back to you.”

I responded “You know that speaking is one of my finer points. I am a former auctioneer that had a gifted tongue for rapid speech.” Of course, I lied and Elise read me like an open book.

She raised her eyebrows and said, “Oh really! So, what happened? How did you become tongue-tied? My pet name for you is “Fumble-lina.” And since it is likely we would never go dancing, I bet you are flat-footed as well. Nonetheless, I think I am falling for you in spite of your imperfections. You are so peachy keen and adorable.”

Peachy-keen and adorable? I was shocked by her candidness but was overjoyed by her outright expression of affection for me. It wasn’t much longer that she lovingly and relentlessly teased me. For instance, she used her long eyelashes to give me what she called angel kisses. Elise would flutter her eyelashes against my cheek as an amorous touch. The entire time she did this to me she would be purring like a kitten! Yowzah! My heart titillated as I giggled the whole time.

She affectionately said, “I feel your heart. Thub a dub, thub a dub! Oh, it’s racing now like an engine. Varoom! Varoom! I must have stepped on your gas pedal. Ha, ha.”

I was in stitches laughing at her words. I was enthralled by her touches at the same time. Elise was a perfect fit for me. Nonetheless, I had to try to crack her exterior shell. I may have penetrated her heart, but I had yet to look deep into her soul. Who is the real Elise? Aside from her funny bone I knew nothing about what made her who she really is.

At one of our chamomile tea sessions from out of nowhere Elise decided to discuss religion. Of all the topics she had to bring up. I was not a fan of institutionalized religion. The last time I remember considering anything about the subject was at a church wedding for one of my work colleagues. Of course, I was thinking this could be an open door revealing more about the woman I was starting to fall in love with.

“Michael, how would you like to come to church with me this Sunday? Afterwards I’ll make you a delicious breakfast with all the piping hot chamomile tea you can drink. It will be a special day for the both of us. I think you’ll be glad you did. It’s a contemporary church, no judgement, no pressure. I so much want you by my side.”

I was dreadfully quiet. The thought of endless hot chamomile tea made me quiver with nausea.

I asked her, “What language do they speak at this church? Do I have to dress up? How long is the service? Do they expect something from me?”

“Michael, you worry too much. I think you will be pleasantly surprised by the music and the kindness of the people. It really is a loving, friendly and nonjudgemental community. And it is come as you are, although I may take you to the clothing store and buy you some new threads. Ha, ha.”

I gulped down the remaining tea in my mug. Hesitantly, I said, “Ok, I'm game.”

Elise added with a big smile, “I’ll make a saint out of you yet. Make sure you have your credit card with you. I know of a store where they offer high end men’s clothing that is really chic.”

“Yikes! It sounds expensive. I think I am going to need more tea to settle down my nerves.”

I purchased pants, shirt and sports jacket later that day under Elise’s discerning eye. We had some playful banter, but she really had a knack at choosing the right colors and style. I figured I could pay it off in two years with interest.

She said to me, “You will turn some heads at church on Sunday. You’ll be the best-looking man there. I may have to taser the other girls off.” Elise then opened her purse to show me her fake taser gun. “I also have pepper spray for those not too serious situations,” she chortled.

“Whoa! I promise I will never mess with you ever again,” I said defensively. “You are one brute; and yet I am going to church with you?”

Innocently Elise said, “Yep. You will be enlightened. I hope your inner soul will be touched by God’s presence.”

On that Sunday we met for tea before the service. It was just a short distance from the coffee shop. I coaxed her to sit toward the back of the church. Elise obliged. The atmosphere seemed relaxed as the minister stood in front of the congregation opening with a solemn prayer.

After he finished, the lights dimmed; a curtain was raised behind the minister. A band of musicians erupted into a burst of peppy rock music filling the building. I looked at Elise who was swaying and raising her hands. Her attention was focused on the music. Elise walked toward the musicians. A new tune was played and to my amazement Elise began to sing. Her voice was lifted in praise as she sang the lyrics to Pat Barrett's "Build My Life."

Her singing was amazing! I could see her heart and soul pour out in front of me, in front of everyone. Elise truly looked like an angel as she sang that song. Suddenly a feeling of dread overwhelmed me. My emotions and self-worth spiraled downward. I had to get away from here. I had to get away from Elise. I was not worthy. Not worthy to sing, to praise or even to breathe. Certainly not worthy to honor God. How could I even be worthy to love Elise, a woman consecrated to God?

I scrambled out the door heading back to my home. Several days had passed. I had not heard from her, nor did I try to contact her. I was afraid of what she might think of me. I was hoping she was giving me space. A letter appeared in my mailbox the next day.

So, in the early morning I had fixed myself a pot of chamomile tea of all things. I curled my hands around my mug that Elise had given to me. I shook my head to wake myself up from my dreamy reminiscing about our earlier days. Her letter rested by the mug. I fumbled with a piece of paper for my letter. I was conflicted about opening the letter before I penned my response about my behavior at the church several days ago.

I decided to read her letter. It only contained this:

"We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in His love. God is love, and all who live in love live in God, and God lives in them." (1 John 4: 16, NLT (1))

Do you know the Truth in love, Michael?

Elise

I looked out the window. The sun hid behind the clouds, and the rain began to fall as tears rolled down my cheeks.

-END-

(1) NLT=New Living Translation

Author: Pete Gautchier

Acknowledgement: Reedsy.com prompts