Brewing with Purpose

Serena Simmons’ hands shook as she put her tea kettle on the stove to boil. It was a familiar feeling by now. The shaking, shortness of breath, the nausea slowly creeping in. They were all symptoms of an awful disease that afflicted her once a month: her father was visiting.

It had started 2 years ago, shortly after her dad got remarried. His new wife had 3 children and felt that her new husband should be a family man, so she pushed him to reconnect with his only child in a bid to have what she called ‘bonding time’. He had decided (with no input from Serena) that he would come over to her condo for two hours once a month. For ‘bonding’.

If you could call it bonding, that is; normally they’d sit across from each other at her rickety kitchen table and pick at their food instead of talking about anything substantial. Her father would ask her the same questions as the previous month and ask for coffee every time, even though he knew she didn’t drink it and thus, didn’t buy it.

They’d small talk about her job, he’d tell her to be more ambitious and she’d assert every time that she liked her job at the local bakery and wasn’t looking for another one. He’d talk about house renovations and his step-son getting into law school and family vacations that he reminded her she was always invited to. He’d ask about her dating life, raising his eyebrows when she confirmed it was still nonexistent by her choice. He’d tell her to get a better car and when she said it still ran and that’s all she cared about, he’d heave a long, drawn out sigh, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t, he just had one daughter who was inadequate compared to his lawyer step-son and accountant step-daughter and his entrepreneur other step-daughter who just started a business selling custom embroidered t-shirts.

It was funny, her whole childhood her father basically ignored her except for the big moments. He never went to any of her doctor appointments, but he was there every Christmas with a huge gift trying to upstage her mother. He never showed up to any of her piano recitals for 15 years, but he flew over 100 miles for her college graduation and got her a plane ticket to Philadelphia as a gift. She’d never expressed a want to go to Philadelphia in her whole life but she still went, alone. He wasn’t there when her mom died in a car crash, he didn’t hold her when she cried so hard she got sick and was so anxious while cleaning out her mom’s house to sell that she had to go back on her medication. He was at the funeral though, wearing a black three piece suit and telling her that if she needed anything at all to just call him. When she did call him just days later, needing to talk to someone who’d known her mother and loved her like she had, it went straight to voicemail. She’d spent most of her life vying for her father's attention and yearning for him just to look her way. Now that he finally was, she just wanted to be invisible again.

The oven beeped, and she grabbed a towel to take the cookies out of the oven. Her dad liked chocolate, so she made chocolate chip cookies. She’d added more butter this time, since he always said her baking was on the dry side. The cookies were spread out more, almost touching each other. Hopefully he’d like them.

Her dad loved her, Serena knew he did, and he showed it in his own strange ways. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have done anything at all for her. She couldn’t tell herself that he didn’t love her because if he truly didn’t then he wouldn’t still be in her life. He wouldn’t keep trying so hard, even though they both knew he was doomed to fail eventually.

The tea kettle whistled, jolting her out of her reminiscing. Serena rummaged through her tea drawer, eventually picking lavender for herself and black for her dad. He never noticed the tea, so she wasn’t going to waste a tea bag he wouldn’t appreciate.

Then came the question that Serena always asked herself as she poured the water into the mugs and put them on matching saucers. Why didn’t she just tell her dad to stop visiting? Why did she suffer through this every month and do this song and dance with the tea and the desserts and small talk she hated? It was the same answer every time. She was scared. She was terrified that if she told her dad she didn’t want him to come over anymore, he’d never come over again. At least this way, she saw him on a semi-regular basis.

Serena moved the tea to the table, plated the cookies on her nicest plate and placed her frilly place mats at both chairs. She filled a vase with water for the $5 bouquet of petunias she bought from the grocery store. She lit a vanilla candle and turned down her thermostat because her dad ran hot. Would her dad prepare like this if she ever went to visit him? She doubted it, but it didn’t matter. If there were no tea and cookies and candles, he might stop visiting.

Right on time, her dad’s car pulled in behind hers in the driveway, blocking her in so she couldn’t escape. She watched his silhouette through the blinds as he got out of the car and made his way to the door. Her hands were shaking again. Her stomach churned with anxiety, and she could feel her heart beat through her entire body.

The doorbell rang. Serena shivered. If he noticed, she’d just blame the cold. She took a sip of lavender tea, willing the warmth to flush the anxiety out of her like a detox.

It didn’t work. She made her way towards the door, knowing that seeing her father shouldn’t make her feel so awful. But it did, and there was nothing to do about it now.

The doorbell rang again.

Serena closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened the door.