The Scent of Apple Tea

5. Heather

Heather

5

“Tonya and Bailey are coming over for Tea Time today,” Kathryn said that afternoon. She arranged the leftover cinnamon rolls from breakfast onto a tray. “But they’ll be leaving early. They’re going to the library. Did you know that Fern Ridge Library has a book club every Wednesday for kids? Bailey’s in it. Isn’t that cute?”

Heather smiled weakly. She sat at the table and reclined as best as she could in a dining room chair. She was tired and her belly still hurt. Bailey was a sweet kid, but she sure talked a lot. Heather felt sorry for Tonya—a widow with a ten-year-old daughter. Imagine!

She tried to engage with Tonya whenever she came over to visit with her mom, but Heather still didn’t think they had anything in common, even though they were basically the same age and had been neighbors for nine years. Sometimes talking with her was draining; it was hard for Heather to keep up her portion of the small talk. After nine years, why didn’t they have more to say to each other?

Heather wondered again why Tonya had clicked with Kathryn instead of her. It didn’t really matter though. Tonya was her mom’s friend, and Heather was glad that Tonya and Kathryn could fill that role for each other. Perhaps they connected because they’d both suffered in life—Tonya in losing Doug and raising Bailey by herself, and Kathryn in dealing with her daughter.

Heather frowned and played with her fork. Her illness threatened, snapping at her again. She could see its black curling edges in her peripheral vision. She didn’t want to be something her mother had to deal with.

Her mother walked over and tapped her on the nose.

“I’m glad we still do Tea Time,” Kathryn said and smiled.

Tea Time originally began when Heather was four years old. The story went that Kathryn had been sick and tired of playing yet another round of Candy Land, so she gifted Heather with her very own tea set—two pretty cups, with two pretty saucers, and a wee teapot.

They weren’t toys so Heather couldn’t keep them in her room then, but Kathryn would get them out whenever Heather wanted to use them. When this became multiple times a day, Kathryn implemented Tea Time. With her capital Ts. The times changed throughout the years, what with violin lessons and school and play dates and after-school sports or jobs, but somehow Tea Time stuck around, and truthfully, Heather would miss it if it were gone.

“Why don’t you ever invite Kyle over anymore?” her mom asked. She organized mason jars, filled with dried tea and herbs, in a line on the countertop while they waited for Tonya and Bailey.

Heather shrugged. She eyed the cinnamon rolls in front of her and fought the urge to nibble before Tea Time officially started and their guests arrived. It was three o’clock—just when mere mortals ached for a break from work and for a chance to load up on sugar and caffeine to carry them through the rest of the day.

Their tea—as in the years before—was still served in pretty cups with saucers.

“I liked him,” Kathryn said, crouching over a jumbled drawer.

“Kyle’s just a friend now, Mom. I like him, but…” She laughed over the welling sadness. “It’s better if we’re just friends. Less pressure for him.” She gave in and pulled a cinnamon roll to her plate. “I’m too much trouble,” Heather said, pretending it was a joke. She ripped the roll into chunks, dropping them on her plate.

Kathryn snapped up and closed the drawer, apparently giving up the search.

“That’s absolutely not true, Heather. You’re capable and you work hard,” she said. She gripped the counter. “Sometimes you need help remembering to take your medication, but that’s just because it works so well that you convince yourself you don’t need it.” She cracked her knuckles. “That’s not too much trouble.”

Kathryn sat down at the table.

“Is that the only reason you’re not seeing him anymore? Because you think you’re too much trouble for him? You broke up with him?” Kathryn’s blue eyes searched hers.

Heather dropped her gaze back to the c*****e on her plate. She wouldn’t think about Kyle right now. Arguing about her job would be a safer conversation topic. For the truth was, she did want something different, more exciting. Managing the business and marketing side of Herbal Junction just wasn’t doing it for her. And she had to tell her mom. But how? Kathryn was always against hiring extra help. She couldn’t understand why though. Something about “Flora,” she guessed.

“I don’t want you to die alone,” her mom blurted out.

“What?” The non sequitor startled her. She’d obviously missed something. Heather made a mental note to stay with the conversation.

“I’ll be going first,” Kathryn said, matter-of-factly, her face flushed, mottled and maroon. “Who will take care of you when I’m gone? You should rethink Kyle. I bet he still likes you.”

“Mom!” As if she’d go begging back to him. He wouldn’t stick around once he saw her as she really was, naked without her medicine. He’d never stay. No one else had. Why would he?

“I’m just saying,” her mom said, “give it a little more effort. It could work. You’re such a lovely girl.” Kathryn reached for Heather’s face but Heather pulled out of reach.

Why couldn’t she have even one conversation with her mom without rolling her eyes or clenching her fists? It was like a tic that only happened around her mother.

A knock signaled the arrival of Tonya and Bailey. Kathryn got up and let them in. Heather steamed in her own juices. She wanted to rage against her mom who went from one sentence extolling Heather’s capabilities, to another suggesting that she needed to be taken care of. The nerve!

But because Tonya and Bailey didn’t need to witness her wrath nor her sudden rude departure to her bedroom—which she vastly preferred at that moment—she bit the inside of her cheek and smiled at Bailey’s blond cowlick.

Kathryn let Bailey light the candle on the table and they all recited:

Blessings on the blossoms

Blessings on the fruit

Blessings on the leaves and stems

And blessings on the roots.

“Bon appetit! Now we may eat!” Bailey piped. Tonya giggled.

The three of them ate and talked and laughed while Heather watched. Her mother’s face was now rosy cheeked and lit with delight. Kathryn was a beautiful woman. Heather had to give her that. Her eyes were still bright blue and she was a young sixty-four. She’d stopped using henna dye years before but, even still, Kathryn’s long gray hair looked striking next to her almost wrinkle-free skin, different than the invisible look some women got in their crone years.

Heather’s anger subsided enough to hope that she would keep her own youthfulness as well as her mother had. And then, because it was a practice that helped with her blacker moods, she added up the things in her life that she was grateful for.

There were lots, actually. She met up with Jill and Kyle every Tuesday night at Sam Bond’s Garage for brews and bluegrass, bringing her banjo to jam with. She ran for pleasure . . . sort of. More like, she had bought the shoes and Lycra running pants, but still. She liked being active and hiking all the waterfalls she could find in the surrounding area. And she loved her home, despite her restlessness.

Heather sighed and returned to the conversation at the table. Things would get better. They never stayed as horrible as they seemed in any given moment. This “moment” had passed fairly quickly. She was still gray inside, but the battle of blackness had been avoided this time around.

Maybe she was just worried about seeing Kyle tonight. She had been missing him. He and Jill were coming over to play music. She set her shoulders straight. She would be lighthearted tonight and not pine for something she couldn’t have. But . . . maybe her mother was right. She usually was. Though did it hold true that if her mother was right, then Heather was wrong? What if they were both right? What if she were both a perfectly capable person needing help taking her meds once in a while, and too much trouble for a man to love her?

If she’d looked outside before Kyle and Jill had arrived that evening, Heather would’ve seen the silver sky. A silver sky meant that a circumstance requiring delicacy was approaching. But because she didn’t know of its metallic heralding, or see the clouds trolling past, Heather couldn’t prepare for the speed at which her life would change.

Jill breezed in and hugged Heather, her guitar sliding foreword and bumping against Heather’s shoulder. Heather breathed in Jill. Jill was her very best friend. They connected in all ways. Heather joked once that if she’d been a man, she would’ve totally seduced Jill into dating her, which was backwards because if Heather had been a man, then Jill, a lesbian, certainly wouldn’t have fallen for her. Jill loved women but wasn’t the man-hating type, courtesy of a fabulous father who instilled in her a general faith in the male population.

Jill and Kyle had been friends for years, more years than Heather had known either of them. In fact, Heather had only known Kyle for less than a year. They’d hit it off really well and were inseparable within two weeks. But after three months, Heather had shut down. She had felt the black sorrow descending and didn’t want Kyle to witness her at her worst, so she called it off.

He had to have been hurt, but somehow—probably because of Jill—they were able to transition into a soft friendship with occasional bouts of wild flirting. Kyle always instigated, and she wondered if it was his way of hinting at what she’d lost by dumping him.

On good days, she chose to think of his behavior as his way of saying that he was still interested if she ever wanted to try again, rather than think he was deliberately attempting to spite her. And, truthfully, on those good days, she did wonder if she might like to try, but mostly her black moments kept the distance between them palpable. She was too much trouble for a long-term relationship. Flings were okay, but unfortunately they weren’t as satisfying as they used to be. And a fling with Kyle wouldn’t be possible. They’d already tasted a closeness that prevented such casualness.

Heather took their coats and they forewent the dining room table, opting for the living room’s squishy couch instead. Heather and Jill flopped down with their banjo and guitar, respectively. Kyle pulled up an ottoman and made himself comfortable. All jammers needed an audience and Kyle was an avid supporter of his newly discovered bluegrass aptitude.

“Why don’t you start playing something?” Jill asked Kyle.

He shrugged.

“Chicken?” Jill taunted.

Kyle laughed.

“No. Just doesn’t burn inside me. I wouldn’t do the music justice.” He smiled at both of the women. Jill rolled her eyes, but Heather ducked her head, emotions swimming.

Why does he still do this to me?

He wasn’t doing anything, Heather corrected herself. She was just being stupid. They hadn’t been together like that for eight months now. It was over. She shook it off and plucked at her strings, “Shady Grove” picking its way out. Jill grimaced but played along on her guitar anyway.

Kyle lent his voice to some of the lyrics, and Heather felt shiny and new by the end of the song. Kyle clapped.

“Thank you. I love that song,” Heather said.

“Check this out,” Jill said. “I wrote a new song.” She sat up and balanced on the edge of the couch.

Kyle dragged the ottoman closer to Heather.

“There,” he said. “Now we’re both the audience.” He winked at Heather.

Oh brother. That was about as subtle as the old arm-behind-the-shoulder-while-stretching-and-yawning thing guys did in movie theaters when they were sixteen. There would be no flirting tonight. Irritation burned in her fingertips. She hated that being around Kyle still affected her. She didn’t want to like him anymore. She shifted the banjo in between them, if only for the illusion of separation.

As always, Jill’s songs brought tears to Heather’s eyes. She felt stupid for forgetting. She sat up and settled her banjo onto her lap. A prop. A distraction. She didn’t want Kyle to see her cry. She couldn’t be vulnerable with him. It would trigger something she wasn’t ready for. Jill sang on, nodding at Heather. She knew what effect her songs had on Heather.

Jill and Heather played for an hour, Kyle singing along in places, until they were spent. Kathryn made hot chocolate for them, as if they were young children fresh home from a snowball fight, and said goodnight, slipping into her room. When the hot chocolate and visiting were finished, Jill yawned and stretched.

“I’m beat,” Jill said.

They all stood up and the three of them exchanged hugs.

“See you next Tuesday, Heather,” Kyle said, looking into her eyes and holding them there. Heather’s breath quickened and so did her thoughts.

She needed to get away for a bit. The farm was a little stifling. Or maybe it wasn’t the farm, just the monotony of her life. She needed some stimulation. Scotland would be the perfect distraction. She’d never been, even though all her relatives grew up there. Except her mom. Mom was the only one of her siblings that hadn’t been born in Scotland. It would be the perfect adventure to close out Herbal Junction Farm’s harvest.

Kyle squeezed her hand.

“Hello?” He laughed. “Your eyes just came into focus.” Kyle looked over at Jill, who shrugged. “See you next Tuesday,” he said again.

He dropped Heather’s hand and he and Jill left the house, leaving Heather with a sense of otherworldliness. Where did she go just then? She had been so trussed up in her thoughts that she hadn’t spoken a word of farewell to her best friend and the man who, unfortunately, had wedged himself behind her sternum and wouldn’t leave.

She sighed and turned for her room. She was too tired and depressed now to brush her teeth tonight. She climbed into bed fully clothed and waited in the darkness for sleep to envelope her. She wouldn’t have to think of her shortcomings if she could just sleep.

Her mind spun for a little while, but eventually agreed to let go. The curtain of somnolence fell precisely eighteen minutes after she’d lain down, and ravens cawed in her dreams.