Tea For Two

29

Disclaimer: this is part of an original work of fiction that belongs to me. Don't steal it, just enjoy it. Thanks. 

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When I arrive at Emily's porch, one hand on the stitch in my side, I mostly expect no one to be home. But there's a light on inside, so I go ahead and knock on the door, catching my breath as I wait for whoever is home to open up.

Mr. Tate opens the door, a cold bottle of beer in one hand and a pen behind his ear.

"Oh," he says. I guess neither of us was expecting the other. "Hey August. What's going on?"

I'm immediately second guessing what I'm doing here. There's a heavy part of me that wants to go home while I still have time to safely make it. The rest of me is saying that I really need to do this, whatever this is. I don't really have a plan.

"I- uh, well," I start, still not sure, "I was wondering if maybe I could talk to you?"

"Sure, if you don't mind talking to me alone," he says, motioning behind him to the empty living room, "Laura's teaching a hot yoga class tonight, so I'm on my own for a while. I know I'm boring, so... is that all right?"

"Yeah, sure."

He opens the door all the way for me and I take a few steps back into the house that almost served as my second home just last month.

"I hope you don't mind," he says as he closes the door behind me, "I'm doing some paperwork for the office, and it's all got to get done tonight."

"That's okay," I say, sitting down in the only chair at the kitchen table that doesn't have a small pile of folders in front of it. "But are you sure you should do that with alcohol?"

He cracks a smile for the first time since he opened the door, and I'm glad I've done something- even small- to ease the tension.

"Listen," he says, chuckling and leaning across the table toward me, "this is my first one tonight, and if you were me, you'd be doing it too."

"Wow, it's that much fun, huh?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." As he begins to scan over a form in front of him, he glances up briefly before looking down again and taking his pen put from behind his ear. "You know, we have some iced tea in the fridge, if you want some."

I almost say no, I don't want to push his hospitality after ignoring him and his wife for these past few weeks, but I ran the entire way here, just trying to keep my head clear. It's hot outside and my tongue is dry and iced tea sounds really nice, especially that I don't have to make it.

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"Help yourself. You know where we keep everything."

I go to the cupboard, get myself a glass and pour out some tea. It's like living in a memory, and I half expect to blink and see Emily leaning up against the counter beside me.

I sigh and go back to my seat, sipping quietly.

"I know you used to do this all the time, but I know you didn't come here to just heckle me and drink tea," he says, scowling and uncapping a bottle of white-out. "What's going on, really?"

I bite my lip, thinking, not sure how to put into words what drove my feet for the whole run over.

"Take your time."

I do, taking a drink as well.

"Mr. Tate, you were the first one to tell me that Emily wasn't going to stick around- I mean even in the first plan- so I was wondering... did you, uhm, did you know that she wasn't going to tell me?"

"Are you asking for a reason to hate me?"

"No, sir. It just seems to me that she told a couple of people that I would know before she left."

"Yes, that sounds like her," he sighs, not looking up from his work.

I take another sip, waiting for him to begin. He is sifting through a stack of folders, and appears to be doing the same thing in his mind.

"To answer you directly, I did not think she would do this to you, this 'not saying goodbye' thing. She has done it once or twice, but not to one of her girlfriends."

"So what makes me so special?" I ask, trying to not slip too much sarcasm into the question.

"I really don't know. The best guess that I can make is that there was something different to your relationship with her. Something that she didn't have with anyone else before you, and that made her act differently? I don't know. I've never been a teenage girl, and I think that might have something to do with how little I understand my stepdaughter."

My mind is stutter-stepping its way through what he's telling me.

I take a sip of my tea, unsure of how to respond. I feel like I'm stuck in a constant state of Unsure, and I hate it. Also, I'm not used to other people's parents giving me advice.

"I'm sorry, that's all I have to give you. As far as my opinion is concerned- which, I know, isn't much- I don't think it was right of her to do that, and I have talked to her about it, and so has her mom. But I also think that- no matter what- it might be time for you to move on. I know it's tough when things like that happen, but trying to live a life that revolves around them when they're not around won't help you."

For a minute, neither of us says anything. He continues filling out the forms between us, checking some of them against others occasionally.

"It's just," I start, unsure of whether my thoughts will actually translate this time around, "I feel like these past months with her were a movie that we were filming and she was the leading lady, and she just quit- halfway through, you know?"

He hums, acknowledging what I've said while he takes a swig from his beer, which is almost empty.

"I don't know much about movie making, so correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you think you should be the leading lady in your own movie?"

I let that sink in, and while I do, it begins to echo in my head and I can tell it's going to keep doing that for a while.

I really don't know if it was my movie, though. It's been at a standstill for weeks, and every time I really think back on it, I get this ache in my chest and this restless feeling and I just want to punch something. I'm never sure what I should do- hug myself, run, or break my knuckles open again. I'm so late to the party of insane teenage emotions that I think someone should have written me a survival guide. Sadly, no one did.

"You're the second person who's told me to get over her today," I say, staring at my hands in front of me, wet from the condensation on my glass of tea.

"Maybe it's a sign?" he suggests dryly.

"Maybe."

 As I look past him, my eyes slide past the clock on the wall behind him and I do a double take.

"Shit," I spit, jumping from my chair.

"What?"

I swallow the last bit of my tea and put my glass in the dishwasher as I answer, "My mom is going to be home in five minutes."

"What?" The confusion on his face is so clear, it's almost dripping off.

"I need to go home."

"Wait, August, were you not supposed to be here?"

"I'm not supposed to be anywhere, actually," I say, scrambling for the door.

He doesn't say anything, just sighs and rubs his jaw, sitting back down to face an unopened beer.

"Later," I say before opening the door.

"Good luck."

~~~

AN: See you all again soon :) x