Ellie Peters Inside the Tea Cabinet nnjk

ELLIE PETERS

Inside the Tea Cabinet nnjk

Stu slammed the front door shut with a grunt of frustration, glad he had gotten rid of the neighbors, but frustrated they had the gall to act like they cared. No one really cared, they only knew Albert as the local handyman, nothing more. Everyone just felt entitled to know his personal business, because god forbid anything happen without the local gossips knowing all the details.

“Just because your life is bland, Karen, it doesn’t mean you get to use other people’s lives as some kind of sick, vicarious self-fulfillment,” he scoffed, thinking aloud.

Albert was both amazed and frightened by his friend’s ability to chase unwanted people away, but mostly he was just relieved he was there to do it for him. Well, that wasn’t the only reason, he just was glad to have a familiar face around the house. He wasn’t a replacement, not by a long shot, but it was nice.

because god forbid anything happen without the local gossips knowing all the details.

“Thanks for scaring them off, I couldn’t have done it myself.”

“I know. You can be such a welcome mat, Al.”

“I just don’t like to be rude.”

Stu huffed and walked through the hall which led into the kitchen. On the left was the refrigerator and on the right was the island, creating a pathway that would bring someone towards the sink that sat against the far wall past the cupboards, oven, cabinets, and drawers. It wasn’t luxurious, the counter was just that default poor person counter that comes with most houses, unpainted wooden cabinets, and completed with off white walls, but it was comfortable. Comfortable for more than one person anyway.

“Ugh, I have a headache,” he said, rubbing his temples.

“Yelling like that will do that to you.”

Stu rolled his eyes and popped the fridge open, about to crack open yet another can of cola but noticed Albert standing behind him looking at him disapprovingly. “What?”

“I know, but I was thinking, if you have a headache, I could make you a nice cup of tea. It’d be better for you. And, not to brag, but it would taste better too.”

“Sheesh alright, alright.” He sat down at one of the bar stools along the kitchen’s island. He knew Albert just needed to take care of someone to make himself feel better, even if that someone was a full grown adult who could make his own decisions about what was best for himself and at that could make himself tea if he wanted to. “Make me some tea then.” “Well, I’ll go ahead and pick something out.” He opened up the cabinet to the left of the oven door and a dark wooden tray sprung forward complete with almost anything you could think of that you could want or need for tea. One half was filled with sugar and spice and everything nice and the other side had things like a tea kettle, spoons, and reusable fabric tea bags. Albert gathered the things he thought he’d need before pushing that particular tray downward, bringing another one filled with colorful little ceramics forward. “Woah.” Stu went over and kneeled down on the floor to get a closer look. Upon closer inspection there were six wooden shelves all the same exact size with precisely 25 equal square sections. It was designed so the shelves could be moved up or down and roll another one to the front. He pressed down on the one in front of him only to discover it had quite a bit of heft to it and wasn’t going to suddenly move out of place. It was like a well-made ferris wheel, or maybe better put, like a tea rolodex. “Why did you build it like this?” “What do you mean?” “It’s… Odd. You could’ve just made a regular shelving unit.” “Yeah, well, I could have, and if I was left to my own devices I probably would have, but I didn’t come up with the design.” In an attempt to keep himself busy, and in an act of avoidance, he turned on the stove top and walked the kettle to the sink, where he flipped on the faucet and let the water pour in. “Besides, it’s more fun this way. More creative than anything I could have done on my own.” “Oh.” And that was his cue to stop talking since he was only going to dig himself into a hole. So Stu turned his attention to the candy colored ceramics that fit snugly into the walls of each section. They were like little houses in a suburban

neighborhood: all looking the same in size and shape, all cubes with lids that looked like rooftops with round button equse knobs to open them up. The walls that formed the sections almost acted like little wooden fences separating the houses in this candy colored suburb. Stu watched Albert leisurely lean over and grab one yellow container, without even looking.

“How the Hell do you find anything in here? Nothing is labeled.”

Albert filled a reusable tea bag with the camomile tea he had chosen. “There is a system to it, organized in columns by leaf, black, white and so on, then each row is a different possible type of added flavor and all the containers are color coded. But if I’m being honest, I just go by memory.”

After he returned the other one he had retrieved back in it’s rightful place, he reached over and pulled the one in the uphand left corner of the tray and handed it to Stu. About the size of a rubik’s cube, it was a deep dark, nearly black blue with little random flecks of color embedded in the glaze that made the ceramic glisten in the light and gave it a cool and smooth finish to the touch. There were intricate swirling grooves that had been carved into The silence, the sides.

Impressed, Stu nodded his head in approval. “I though brief, never knew you were so artistic.” was strong

“I’m not. He was.” The silence, though brief, enough to was strong enough to make the air thick and hard make the air to breathe. “This,” he pointed to the blue ceramic thick and hard he had handed Stu, “Is the first one he made for to breathe. me. He had made it in pottery class.” A watched pot never boils but he stared down the kettle while he spoke because he couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I was so proud, and I asked him where he thought we should display it, and he said we should use it for the loose leaf tea I kept buying. I protested at first, arguing that it was a piece of art and no one would get to see it if we just used it for my tea collection that was getting out of hand.” He moved to the cupboard on the right hand side of the oven where he kept the mugs, set one on the counter, and placed the tea bag inside. “But he said he didn’t care if anyone got to see it, he made it for me, not everyone else. He just wanted me to get some good use out of it. So,” he cleared his throat and stared straight ahead as he took the kettle off the hot burner. “As you can see, I came around.”