AFTERNOON TEA.
The gentle rhythmic click clack, click clack as the rockers hit the floor, lulled her into a soporific doze. The gauze curtain fluttered noiselessly in the warm breeze and the shards of sunlight that pierced the half closed blinds fell across her wizened face in strange stripes. Faraway on the road she could vaguely hear the strident honking of a horn, a dog barked close by and she thought she heard the distant tinkling of a bicycle bell. Her gnarled fingers gripped the arms of the rocking chair. It must be late afternoon and soon Tom would be awake and wanting some tea. She heaved her aching body out of the chair and creaked and groaned into a standing position. She felt drained of energy, that one movement had sapped all of her strength. Her shaking hands smoothed the stringy white strands of hair back from her deeply furrowed brow. She stood still for a moment catching her breath and summoning her strength. She looked down at her feet, the same feet that had once carried her through until dawn, dancing endlessly, now could barely carry her out into the kitchen to make Tom's tea. She shuffled forward, her slippers making a scratching sound on the wooden floor. She pulled her old cardigan around her gaunt frame, feeling a bone deep chill. Even when the sun beat down on her these days she still felt this incredible coldness at the very core of her being.
She rubbed her arms as she hugged herself, trying to get the circulation going again, trying to ease the throbbing in her arthritic shoulders and elbows. Everything was such an effort now, so painful, so tiring. Sometimes she just wished that she could fall asleep in her chair by the window and never wake up, but she always did. She would wake with a start, heart thumping in her chest, mind struggling through the haze to focus on where she was, who she was and slowly come back to the reality of her life and the knowledge that Tom needed her. Tom had always been there for her ever since she was born, Tom had been there through thick and thin, protecting her and loving her, her best friend, her big brother. There had been just the two of them when their mother died leaving them to fend for themselves in a world of strangers. Tom had been fifteen and Ellen only ten, but they had managed to survive and stay together against all odds. Later, when Tom's wife had died giving birth to their first child, in the far bedroom, Ellen had nursed him through his grief. They were inseparable, and now that Tom was so sick, Ellen was once again playing nurse. This thought nudged her back to the present; she must pull herself together and get Tom's tea. He must be awake by now and needing some sustenance.
She filled the kettle from the tap and placed it on the gas ring, the blue flames licked around the old kettle, slowly heating the water for Tom's tea. Ellen warmed the teapot and spooned in the tealeaves. Tom enjoyed a good strong brew, put hairs on his chest, he claimed. She smiled lovingly at this thought and her faded eyes twinkled with amusement. She gazed at the kettle; a watched pot never boils, she thought as she leaned heavily against the sink for support. Soon the kettle screamed out its shrill cry, letting her know the water was ready. She poured the bubbling liquid over the tealeaves, filling the pot to the brim because Tom always liked a second cup. While the tea was brewing, she busied herself putting the fine bone china cups and saucers on a tray. She held her back as she reached up, taking the delicate crockery in her shaking hand and placing it carefully on the tray. She spooned in the sugar, two for Tom and none for her. She always joked with him that she was sweet enough she didn't need any sugar. She chuckled at her own well-worn joke. The tea was ready now, just right. She poured the steaming liquid into the fragile cups, added a splash of milk, a quick stir and it was set to go. She picked up the tray, balancing it between her two hands and shuffled one step at a time towards the far bedroom. As she neared the half open door, she began to croon," oh Tom, Tom, it's tea time my love, let's have a nice cup of tea. I'm sure you are ready for one". She carefully leaned her right shoulder against the bedroom door, nudging it open. As the door swung inwards a shrill cry escaped her, sticking in her throat and piercing the total stillness of the room beyond. The tea tray fell from her helpless hands, crashing to the floor, smashing the china and splattering the rose covered wallpaper with steaming, brown droplets of tea. She swooned lifelessly to the floor.
She was dreaming that they were young again, she and Tom, running hand in hand through the sunlit woods. A warm breeze was playing with their hair, the sweet, sweet smell of honeysuckle bruised their nostrils and laughter filled their ears. Her heart was as light as a bird and her spirit soared with happiness, until a shadow fell across the sun and the sky darkened, as if in preparation for rain. A cold, icy wind chilled her heart and when she turned to Tom for comfort, he was gone. She was totally alone in an alien landscape. Strong winds whipped and howled around her causing her to stumble and fall. She tried frantically to grasp onto the branches and roots of the dark trees that stood sentinel around her, but her hands just clutched at empty air. Then she was falling into emptiness, her stomach flipping and twisting, her voice echoing wildly as she screamed his name into the void.
She awoke with a start, her heart hammering painfully, she was soaked with sweat and her throat was parched and aching, salty tears were running down her face and into her ears. She moved her head carefully, her neck felt cramped and stiff and she had the beginnings of a migraine headache pulsing in her left temple. A wave of nausea swept over her as she tried to work out where she was. She couldn't remember how she had ended up on the floor, but she had obviously fallen at some point and trapped her right arm underneath her. It was throbbing with a dull ache, and would be of little use in getting herself into a sitting position. From where she lay she could see into the far bedroom, there were pieces of broken china everywhere and brown stains were seeping into the carpet and running in rivulets down the wallpaper. She must have fallen and dropped the tea tray. Tumbleweeds of dust lay under Tom's bed, it was so hard for her to keep the place clean nowadays, even a year ago it would have withstood a military inspection, but over the last year she seemed to have lost both the ability and the motivation to keep up with the household chores. If it hadn't been for Tom, she would probably have given up a long time ago. As she thought of Tom, a strange sensation came over her, a kind of fearful dejavu creeping around in her consciousness, like a spider spinning a silken web across her mind. A strong feeling of unease began to pervade her thoughts, there was something eating away at her, trying to find it's way through the cobwebs to the forefront of her mind, but every time it threatened to materialize, her mind would skitter away from it once more.
She had no idea how long she had been lying there, drifting in and out of consciousness, but at one point she realized that night had fallen and only the splintered moonbeams illuminated the otherwise pitch-black house. She heard the old clock in the hall chiming out the hours, but try as she may, she couldn't keep track of the time. Ellen made up her mind, if she didn't get moving soon, she would lie like this for days and she had Tom to take care of, so with a mighty heave, that took up every ounce of strength she could muster, she rolled over onto her back with a loud whoosh of exhaled air. She lay looking up at the ceiling for several minutes, building up her strength for one more supreme effort. She reckoned that if she could get into a sitting position against the wall, then at least she would be able to take stock of her situation and think more clearly what to do. She maneuvered herself with shuffles and grunts until her feet were firmly wedged against the doorframe, then she pulled up her knees as far as they would go to get the maximum leverage and then pushed as hard as she could against the frame. At first nothing happened, her body remained motionless. She took a deep breath and tried again, this time pushing with short, sharp bursts of effort. Slowly, slowly she began to move, soon she had her shoulders firmly lodged against the wooden frame behind her. With excruciating slowness she inched her back up the doorjamb, she could feel each one of her vertebra as it scraped painfully along the hard wood. Finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, she was in a sitting position, back rigid against the doorframe. Ellen laid her head against the wood and closed her eyes, her worst fears had come to fruition and she was powerless in the face of them. She wearily crawled into the kitchen, where she forced herself to her feet by pulling down with her left arm on the drawer handles that formed a ladder to the counter top above. Her right arm hung numbly at her side and her legs trembled and shook with the effort and almost gave out on her, but with sheer force of will Ellen stood up.
She straightened up and pulled her cardigan around her." I'd better get that cup of tea,” she said aloud as she filled the old kettle from the tap. She winced with pain as she reached up and took two more cups and saucers from the cupboard and placed them on the draining board. Soon the kettle sang out it's familiar song and Ellen made the tea, one with sugar, one without. Her eyes sifted through the labels on the numerous bottles of medication that stood like soldiers awaiting inspection on the countertop, she found what she was searching for and with a smile that lit up her tired face, she tipped the contents into the two cups of tea. Ellen rose shakily to her feet and carrying Tom’s cup, shuffled back to the far bedroom, where she carefully placed it on the night table next to his bed. She stood still, swaying just a little and catching her breath before moving off to get her tea from the kitchen. With a heartfelt sigh, she carried it into the living room where her favorite rocking chair stood waiting by the window. She gingerly lowered herself into it and closing her eyes she drained the cup. She began to croon in time to the gentle rhythmic click clack, click clack as the rockers hit the floor," Oh Tom, Tom I'm coming my love, wait for me".
They found her several days later, her gnarled hands folded gently in her lap, her white hair tucked neatly behind her ears and a peaceful smile on her lips. “It was only a matter of time”, they said, “She’s not been herself since her brother passed away last year”.
The gentle rhythmic click clack, click clack as the rockers hit the floor, lulled her into a soporific doze. The gauze curtain fluttered noiselessly in the warm breeze and the shards of sunlight that pierced the half closed blinds fell across her wizened face in strange stripes. Faraway on the road she could vaguely hear the strident honking of a horn, a dog barked close by and she thought she heard the distant tinkling of a bicycle bell. Her gnarled fingers gripped the arms of the rocking chair. It must be late afternoon and soon Tom would be awake and wanting some tea. She heaved her aching body out of the chair and creaked and groaned into a standing position. She felt drained of energy, that one movement had sapped all of her strength. Her shaking hands smoothed the stringy white strands of hair back from her deeply furrowed brow. She stood still for a moment catching her breath and summoning her strength. She looked down at her feet, the same feet that had once carried her through until dawn, dancing endlessly, now could barely carry her out into the kitchen to make Tom's tea. She shuffled forward, her slippers making a scratching sound on the wooden floor. She pulled her old cardigan around her gaunt frame, feeling a bone deep chill. Even when the sun beat down on her these days she still felt this incredible coldness at the very core of her being.
She rubbed her arms as she hugged herself, trying to get the circulation going again, trying to ease the throbbing in her arthritic shoulders and elbows. Everything was such an effort now, so painful, so tiring. Sometimes she just wished that she could fall asleep in her chair by the window and never wake up, but she always did. She would wake with a start, heart thumping in her chest, mind struggling through the haze to focus on where she was, who she was and slowly come back to the reality of her life and the knowledge that Tom needed her. Tom had always been there for her ever since she was born, Tom had been there through thick and thin, protecting her and loving her, her best friend, her big brother. There had been just the two of them when their mother died leaving them to fend for themselves in a world of strangers. Tom had been fifteen and Ellen only ten, but they had managed to survive and stay together against all odds. Later, when Tom's wife had died giving birth to their first child, in the far bedroom, Ellen had nursed him through his grief. They were inseparable, and now that Tom was so sick, Ellen was once again playing nurse. This thought nudged her back to the present; she must pull herself together and get Tom's tea. He must be awake by now and needing some sustenance.
She filled the kettle from the tap and placed it on the gas ring, the blue flames licked around the old kettle, slowly heating the water for Tom's tea. Ellen warmed the teapot and spooned in the tealeaves. Tom enjoyed a good strong brew, put hairs on his chest, he claimed. She smiled lovingly at this thought and her faded eyes twinkled with amusement. She gazed at the kettle; a watched pot never boils, she thought as she leaned heavily against the sink for support. Soon the kettle screamed out its shrill cry, letting her know the water was ready. She poured the bubbling liquid over the tealeaves, filling the pot to the brim because Tom always liked a second cup. While the tea was brewing, she busied herself putting the fine bone china cups and saucers on a tray. She held her back as she reached up, taking the delicate crockery in her shaking hand and placing it carefully on the tray. She spooned in the sugar, two for Tom and none for her. She always joked with him that she was sweet enough she didn't need any sugar. She chuckled at her own well-worn joke. The tea was ready now, just right. She poured the steaming liquid into the fragile cups, added a splash of milk, a quick stir and it was set to go. She picked up the tray, balancing it between her two hands and shuffled one step at a time towards the far bedroom. As she neared the half open door, she began to croon," oh Tom, Tom, it's tea time my love, let's have a nice cup of tea. I'm sure you are ready for one". She carefully leaned her right shoulder against the bedroom door, nudging it open. As the door swung inwards a shrill cry escaped her, sticking in her throat and piercing the total stillness of the room beyond. The tea tray fell from her helpless hands, crashing to the floor, smashing the china and splattering the rose covered wallpaper with steaming, brown droplets of tea. She swooned lifelessly to the floor.
She was dreaming that they were young again, she and Tom, running hand in hand through the sunlit woods. A warm breeze was playing with their hair, the sweet, sweet smell of honeysuckle bruised their nostrils and laughter filled their ears. Her heart was as light as a bird and her spirit soared with happiness, until a shadow fell across the sun and the sky darkened, as if in preparation for rain. A cold, icy wind chilled her heart and when she turned to Tom for comfort, he was gone. She was totally alone in an alien landscape. Strong winds whipped and howled around her causing her to stumble and fall. She tried frantically to grasp onto the branches and roots of the dark trees that stood sentinel around her, but her hands just clutched at empty air. Then she was falling into emptiness, her stomach flipping and twisting, her voice echoing wildly as she screamed his name into the void.
She awoke with a start, her heart hammering painfully, she was soaked with sweat and her throat was parched and aching, salty tears were running down her face and into her ears. She moved her head carefully, her neck felt cramped and stiff and she had the beginnings of a migraine headache pulsing in her left temple. A wave of nausea swept over her as she tried to work out where she was. She couldn't remember how she had ended up on the floor, but she had obviously fallen at some point and trapped her right arm underneath her. It was throbbing with a dull ache, and would be of little use in getting herself into a sitting position. From where she lay she could see into the far bedroom, there were pieces of broken china everywhere and brown stains were seeping into the carpet and running in rivulets down the wallpaper. She must have fallen and dropped the tea tray. Tumbleweeds of dust lay under Tom's bed, it was so hard for her to keep the place clean nowadays, even a year ago it would have withstood a military inspection, but over the last year she seemed to have lost both the ability and the motivation to keep up with the household chores. If it hadn't been for Tom, she would probably have given up a long time ago. As she thought of Tom, a strange sensation came over her, a kind of fearful dejavu creeping around in her consciousness, like a spider spinning a silken web across her mind. A strong feeling of unease began to pervade her thoughts, there was something eating away at her, trying to find it's way through the cobwebs to the forefront of her mind, but every time it threatened to materialize, her mind would skitter away from it once more.
She had no idea how long she had been lying there, drifting in and out of consciousness, but at one point she realized that night had fallen and only the splintered moonbeams illuminated the otherwise pitch-black house. She heard the old clock in the hall chiming out the hours, but try as she may, she couldn't keep track of the time. Ellen made up her mind, if she didn't get moving soon, she would lie like this for days and she had Tom to take care of, so with a mighty heave, that took up every ounce of strength she could muster, she rolled over onto her back with a loud whoosh of exhaled air. She lay looking up at the ceiling for several minutes, building up her strength for one more supreme effort. She reckoned that if she could get into a sitting position against the wall, then at least she would be able to take stock of her situation and think more clearly what to do. She maneuvered herself with shuffles and grunts until her feet were firmly wedged against the doorframe, then she pulled up her knees as far as they would go to get the maximum leverage and then pushed as hard as she could against the frame. At first nothing happened, her body remained motionless. She took a deep breath and tried again, this time pushing with short, sharp bursts of effort. Slowly, slowly she began to move, soon she had her shoulders firmly lodged against the wooden frame behind her. With excruciating slowness she inched her back up the doorjamb, she could feel each one of her vertebra as it scraped painfully along the hard wood. Finally, with a grunt of satisfaction, she was in a sitting position, back rigid against the doorframe. Ellen laid her head against the wood and closed her eyes, her worst fears had come to fruition and she was powerless in the face of them. She wearily crawled into the kitchen, where she forced herself to her feet by pulling down with her left arm on the drawer handles that formed a ladder to the counter top above. Her right arm hung numbly at her side and her legs trembled and shook with the effort and almost gave out on her, but with sheer force of will Ellen stood up.
She straightened up and pulled her cardigan around her." I'd better get that cup of tea,” she said aloud as she filled the old kettle from the tap. She winced with pain as she reached up and took two more cups and saucers from the cupboard and placed them on the draining board. Soon the kettle sang out it's familiar song and Ellen made the tea, one with sugar, one without. Her eyes sifted through the labels on the numerous bottles of medication that stood like soldiers awaiting inspection on the countertop, she found what she was searching for and with a smile that lit up her tired face, she tipped the contents into the two cups of tea. Ellen rose shakily to her feet and carrying Tom’s cup, shuffled back to the far bedroom, where she carefully placed it on the night table next to his bed. She stood still, swaying just a little and catching her breath before moving off to get her tea from the kitchen. With a heartfelt sigh, she carried it into the living room where her favorite rocking chair stood waiting by the window. She gingerly lowered herself into it and closing her eyes she drained the cup. She began to croon in time to the gentle rhythmic click clack, click clack as the rockers hit the floor," Oh Tom, Tom I'm coming my love, wait for me".
They found her several days later, her gnarled hands folded gently in her lap, her white hair tucked neatly behind her ears and a peaceful smile on her lips. “It was only a matter of time”, they said, “She’s not been herself since her brother passed away last year”.
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