Tea For Two

1

She reaches up into one of the cabinets and pulls out a small box full of bright green sugar packets.

"We only have these. Hope you don't mind."

She hops up on the counter, pulls two spoons from the drawer in between where her knees are dangling, and hands one to me.

"No problem," I say.

I take two, rip them open and empty them into my mug, after taking the tea bag out and tossing it in the trash. She does the same.

We sip silently for a moment.

"So, what's your name, 504?" she says with a slight smile, blowing on her tea.

"August. I'm August Shoemaker."

"I'm Emily Turner."

God, she's gorgeous.

"Nice name."

"You too."

"So, August Shoemaker, what should I know about you?"

She's smiling still. I feel like she doesn't stop smiling very often. I'm okay with that.

"Uh. Well, I've lived here my whole life. I live with my parents."

Then I decide to be silly for a moment, see if she laughs as easily as she smiles. I deepen my voice to sound like a voiceover man for a dating game show: "I also enjoy long walks on the beach with my loved ones."

She laughs, barely covering her grin with one hand. Bingo.

"That's nice, but there aren't any beaches nearby."

I continue in my silly voice. "That's okay, Emily. I don't need a beach when I've got an imagination."

We laugh together for a moment, and drink some more.

"So what about you?" I ask in my normal voice. "Anything special about Miss Emily Turner?"

"Well," she begins. "I am an Aries, I love peanut butter M&Ms, and I play baseball."

This explains the bracelet made of baseball stitching that she sports on her left wrist- I assumed at first that it was a brother's or a boyfriend's. Though I wouldn't say no to a brother, I prefer this version.

My eyebrows lift a touch- not too much, just enough to still be polite. "Not softball."

"It's a sissy sport," she replies seriously. "I never play it."

"You gonna play for the school, do you think?" I wonder how our school baseball coach will react to a girl wanting to play on his 'men only' team.

"If they let me."

"You know, we don't have a girl's baseball team. Just softball."

"I sort of figured that much out on my own, actually."

"Smart girl," I say, tilting my head.

"Thanks," she says, mirroring me. "So what about you? Are you into sports or anything?"

I grimace. "Oh, no. No."

"Too physical?"

"Yeah, I'm more of a movies and books girl."

I expect her to react as if this is a huge let down, and it's just too bad that I not an athlete too, but she doesn't. Her eyes light up.

"Really? What kind of movies and books do you like?"

I put on that smirking smile that I've come to associate with people who think that their taste in such things is much better than yours.

"Oh, well, I just love documentaries and nonfiction."

She tries to smile genuinely, but fails.

I laugh. "Nah, I'm messing with you. I mean, if they're done right, documentaries and nonfiction are okay, but I'm really more of an action/comedy/fantasy/horror fan."

"So basically," she says, trying to sum this all up. "Everything under the sun that has ever come in front of a camera lens or been written?"

"Everything and the kitchen sink, yeah."

I'm about to continue, but she holds up a finger, stopping me. "But do you like John Hughes movies?"

I sputter, so glad that someone in my life knows about him. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows, prompting me on.

"I worship the man."

"You should."

We stand in a comfortable silence for a second. I break it.

"You aren't from around here, are you?" I say, then laugh, caught by how contrived that sounds.

"Wow. How cliche," she laughs with me.

"It's just- well, you don't sound like anyone that's lived down here before," I explain. I live in the southern U.S., where a bit of a drawl is common, but she doesn't even have a hint of one. But she doesn't have that comical Northerner accent, either. I can't place her.

"I just got here from upstate New York, but I'm from all over the place, actually," she says.

I know what's coming next- confirmation that she won't be here long, like so many of our other neighbor kids.

"I've moved around a lot."

And there it is.

"Let me guess-" I hold up my hand, signaling for her to wait. "Your dad's work?"

She shakes her head: no.

"Military?"

No again. Huh.

"All right, I give up. Why do you move around a lot?"

"A combination of my parents' divorce, work, and a spontaneous mother."

"Ah. That's always fun."

"Yeah, it's been adventurous," she agrees.

"Moreso than living your whole life in the same room where your parents set up your crib," I point out. "You're lucky to see more of the world than just- well, here."

"You're lucky to be so stable."

I guess we're both sort of right.

"Oh," she begins offhandedly, putting her mug of tea down. "There's one more thing I should tell you before we decide to be friends."

"What's that? Dear God," I say, joking. "Tell me you're not a Democrat. I swear, you can know a person forever and never know that they're a Democrat."

She laughs. "Are you a Republican?"

"I have no idea about myself, but I'm only messing with you a little. Some people here take that really seriously."

Sometimes, Government classes are more like communal rants on why Liberals are going to Hell.

"Well," she sighs. "This is probably going to get me into worse shit than that."

"Why?"

"August, I'm an open lesbian."

This is either going to be very good or very bad. I'm not sure.

"No big deal. I'm bisexual," I say, raising my mug just a bit.

"Ah, we'll get along fine," she replies, clinking her mug up against mine.

~~~

AN: So? What do you think?

Question for comments: Do you like August? Emily?

Comment, Vote, and Fan- should you so desire.

Much Love and Until Next Time

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