Okay I've noticed a trend here...not really into finishing things. I will get back to some of it however this week I've written something else and this just a short little story to highlight how much people tend to hide things. It's possibly got a few typos and bad grammar since this is not my strong point but hey it's finished, at least.
“Sally…”
She looked up at her boss and the woman standing in front of her desk expectantly.
“Could you get us a cup of tea?”
Her heart raced and her vision fogged. There was her father, a much younger man with is hair sticking out on end, his eyes ever so slightly wild and dishevelled, lit up against the threadbare curtains of her childhood home. She blinked, her boss and female companion swamp into view. She took a deep breath and felt the tears well, her shoulders tense and she backed away from the request. “What kind of tea would you like?” She sounded normal and they didn’t seem to notice anything.
“Normal, white with one sugar, thanks.” They smiled.
They always smiled it didn’t mean anything, her father had smiled. She took a deep breath and stood up, her hands were shaking and clammy. She smiled. “Sure, back in a minute.” Her legs quivering, head down she walked the dirty hallway of her childhood. She shook her head, this was work; the floor was a grey carpet, the walls clean cream and the wide open plan office had alcoves for desks with people going about their business. The kitchen was empty and she sighed as she reached for the kettle and stopped, frozen. The kitchen back home had been sparse and she could always hear what her father had been doing in the next room. The banging and crashing of furniture and cupboard doors and here was no different. She could hear the office at work, people annoyed and frustrated loud and intrusive, would any of them find her and want to talk?
“Where’re you going for that tea, China?”
She looked up and saw the shadow of a man so much taller than her. She couldn’t see his face but she didn’t need to, he was stiff, slightly leaning down towards her, one arm on the door the other on the frame, one foot through it blocking the doorway with his leg. She blinked, he was gone and there was the office and her desk neighbour standing in the doorway with her mug.
“You okay?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Yeah I’m fine.”
Her colleague moved towards her.
She jumped back.
“Sorry.” She stopped moving. “Are you sure you’re alright.” The colleague put her mug down.
She sighed. “Yes I am fine, I’m just not having a great day.”
“Oh dear.”
She pulled a face and the colleague turned and left.
Oh why, oh why is this such a problem, it’s just a cup of tea for a client? She put the kettle on and then got out a cup and teabag, sugar and milk and then stood waiting for the water to boil. Her face quivered and a tear dripped onto the counter, she closed her eyes. Her father was standing in front of her, his face screwed up like he’d just tasted something foul.
“You’ve left this too long, it’s stewed.” He paused. “God I can’t trust you to do anything right.”
Her vision swam she could hear him.
“It’s pathetic; anyone with half an ounce of intelligence could do this, but not you.”
She could see his face, the set of his eyes and feel the heat of anger coming off him just before he threw the mug full of tea at her. How it had burned. “Get me another and get it right this time.”
Time and time again she’d tried but she never got it right. How long had it taken for her to realise that she would never make a good cup of tea? Months? But it hadn’t changed a thing, every time she’d wanted this to be the time she’d get it right; the time the tea would be okay and he’d just drink it and not say anything, but it had never happened. So many scolding cups had come back at her that she had gotten into the habit of ducking and hiding to avoid them but that had only made it worse. “You do this to me deliberately; you’re trying to poison me.” If only I had the courage she’d thought, I could be rid of you, rid of this torture.
The kettle boiled. Would she get it right this time? She dunked the bags in each mug, added the milk and sugar and stirred them both. She picked them up and the tea sloshed over the sides. She cleaned them up and tried again, her hands shaking. She stood still as her heart raced; she was never going to get them through to the office without spilling them. Her eyes shut tight and tears slid between her lashes. She put the mugs down and took a deep breath. She could do this, she just had to concentrate. She thumped the counter, opened her eyes and picked up the mugs. This time it would be okay.
The office door was shut so she took a deep breath and put her elbow to it and gently nudged it open. The conversation stopped and she smiled her eyes fixed on the tea in front of her. Only a metre to go, steady now you can do this. The mugs down she didn’t wait for any acknowledgement she turned and fled shutting the door behind her she headed for the bath room and didn’t stop until the door was safely locked behind her. She sat down on the loo and put her head in her hands and shook as the tears flowed. When had this become such an ordeal?
And why was it still such a big ordeal? She’d stopped making tea for her father such a very long time ago and yet the memory lived on. “What are you snivelling about? Anyone would think there was something wrong with you?” His voice again it would not leave her alone. “Go away. For God’s sake just go away.”
“Excuse me for being concerned!”
She scrambled off the loo. “Oh jeeze sorry not you.” She opened the door. The woman standing there was wide eyed and half turned to go out. “God I’m sorry I...” How could she explain? “I’m having a bad day, I’m really sorry.”
“Right, bad day.”
Her shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor. “I just…have a…” She shuddered.
“Hummm…”
She wiped her face. “I’m fine.”
The lady nodded slowly. “Okay I just wondered if there was anything I could do?”
Not ask me to make another cup of tea sprang to mind, but then that would require an explanation, a very painful and personal explanation that would almost certainly result in them asking what the big deal was or even worse telling her to just get over it. She smiled, straightened herself and replied. “Nope, I’m okay now. Thank you.”
“Sally…”
She looked up at her boss and the woman standing in front of her desk expectantly.
“Could you get us a cup of tea?”
Her heart raced and her vision fogged. There was her father, a much younger man with is hair sticking out on end, his eyes ever so slightly wild and dishevelled, lit up against the threadbare curtains of her childhood home. She blinked, her boss and female companion swamp into view. She took a deep breath and felt the tears well, her shoulders tense and she backed away from the request. “What kind of tea would you like?” She sounded normal and they didn’t seem to notice anything.
“Normal, white with one sugar, thanks.” They smiled.
They always smiled it didn’t mean anything, her father had smiled. She took a deep breath and stood up, her hands were shaking and clammy. She smiled. “Sure, back in a minute.” Her legs quivering, head down she walked the dirty hallway of her childhood. She shook her head, this was work; the floor was a grey carpet, the walls clean cream and the wide open plan office had alcoves for desks with people going about their business. The kitchen was empty and she sighed as she reached for the kettle and stopped, frozen. The kitchen back home had been sparse and she could always hear what her father had been doing in the next room. The banging and crashing of furniture and cupboard doors and here was no different. She could hear the office at work, people annoyed and frustrated loud and intrusive, would any of them find her and want to talk?
“Where’re you going for that tea, China?”
She looked up and saw the shadow of a man so much taller than her. She couldn’t see his face but she didn’t need to, he was stiff, slightly leaning down towards her, one arm on the door the other on the frame, one foot through it blocking the doorway with his leg. She blinked, he was gone and there was the office and her desk neighbour standing in the doorway with her mug.
“You okay?”
She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Yeah I’m fine.”
Her colleague moved towards her.
She jumped back.
“Sorry.” She stopped moving. “Are you sure you’re alright.” The colleague put her mug down.
She sighed. “Yes I am fine, I’m just not having a great day.”
“Oh dear.”
She pulled a face and the colleague turned and left.
Oh why, oh why is this such a problem, it’s just a cup of tea for a client? She put the kettle on and then got out a cup and teabag, sugar and milk and then stood waiting for the water to boil. Her face quivered and a tear dripped onto the counter, she closed her eyes. Her father was standing in front of her, his face screwed up like he’d just tasted something foul.
“You’ve left this too long, it’s stewed.” He paused. “God I can’t trust you to do anything right.”
Her vision swam she could hear him.
“It’s pathetic; anyone with half an ounce of intelligence could do this, but not you.”
She could see his face, the set of his eyes and feel the heat of anger coming off him just before he threw the mug full of tea at her. How it had burned. “Get me another and get it right this time.”
Time and time again she’d tried but she never got it right. How long had it taken for her to realise that she would never make a good cup of tea? Months? But it hadn’t changed a thing, every time she’d wanted this to be the time she’d get it right; the time the tea would be okay and he’d just drink it and not say anything, but it had never happened. So many scolding cups had come back at her that she had gotten into the habit of ducking and hiding to avoid them but that had only made it worse. “You do this to me deliberately; you’re trying to poison me.” If only I had the courage she’d thought, I could be rid of you, rid of this torture.
The kettle boiled. Would she get it right this time? She dunked the bags in each mug, added the milk and sugar and stirred them both. She picked them up and the tea sloshed over the sides. She cleaned them up and tried again, her hands shaking. She stood still as her heart raced; she was never going to get them through to the office without spilling them. Her eyes shut tight and tears slid between her lashes. She put the mugs down and took a deep breath. She could do this, she just had to concentrate. She thumped the counter, opened her eyes and picked up the mugs. This time it would be okay.
The office door was shut so she took a deep breath and put her elbow to it and gently nudged it open. The conversation stopped and she smiled her eyes fixed on the tea in front of her. Only a metre to go, steady now you can do this. The mugs down she didn’t wait for any acknowledgement she turned and fled shutting the door behind her she headed for the bath room and didn’t stop until the door was safely locked behind her. She sat down on the loo and put her head in her hands and shook as the tears flowed. When had this become such an ordeal?
And why was it still such a big ordeal? She’d stopped making tea for her father such a very long time ago and yet the memory lived on. “What are you snivelling about? Anyone would think there was something wrong with you?” His voice again it would not leave her alone. “Go away. For God’s sake just go away.”
“Excuse me for being concerned!”
She scrambled off the loo. “Oh jeeze sorry not you.” She opened the door. The woman standing there was wide eyed and half turned to go out. “God I’m sorry I...” How could she explain? “I’m having a bad day, I’m really sorry.”
“Right, bad day.”
Her shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor. “I just…have a…” She shuddered.
“Hummm…”
She wiped her face. “I’m fine.”
The lady nodded slowly. “Okay I just wondered if there was anything I could do?”
Not ask me to make another cup of tea sprang to mind, but then that would require an explanation, a very painful and personal explanation that would almost certainly result in them asking what the big deal was or even worse telling her to just get over it. She smiled, straightened herself and replied. “Nope, I’m okay now. Thank you.”
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