“Of course, honey!” Momshouted, and I winced.
We said our good-byesand our see-you-soon’s, and I hung up the phone andheaded up to the apartment. When I opened the door, Tess whipped her head abruptlytoward the entrance, her arm raised with the remote in hand.
“Jesus, Jon. You scaredme,” she breathed out, pressing a hand over her heart as she dropped theremote. “God, why are you home early?”
Early? Ichecked the clock on the cable box, to find that I was about thirty minutesearlier than usual. “I didn’t have a beer with Jeff,” I explained sheepishly,looking back to her. “Were you actually going to hit me with theremote?”
“Anything can be aweapon,” she stated simply, turning off the TV. “Grandma has told me that on manyoccasions.” I looked to her questioningly and she shrugged and said simply,“Research.”
“Ah.” I nodded slowly.I peered into the girls’ darkened bedroom and asked, “They’re asleep?”
Tess nodded. “Yeah.They were exhausted tonight, sorry. I know you like to read to them.”
I looked back to herwith a lopsided smile. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Without the beer withJeff, my night suddenly felt as though it was missing something. I rememberedback to the days of coming home to my wife and having a cup of tea before bed.It was a tradition she had kept, from when she was younger, and she’d broughtme along for the ride, even though I didn’t initially like tea.
It’d been years since Ihad a cup, and just like that, I really wanted one.
I headed into the kitchenand grabbed the tea kettle from the stove, where it had sat for years withoutever being looked at, much less used. I filled it up with water from the sinkand set it on a burner to boil. Tess wandered into the kitchen, headcockedand brows lowered with scrutiny.
“You’re drinking …tea?” she guessed, eyes pinned to thekettle.
“Beth and I used todrink tea all the time,” I explained, suddenly wanting to tell someone thestory. “We didn’t see each other all that often, you know; we had always workedopposite shifts. But she always made sure to be awake when I got home, eventhough she then had to wake up at the butt crack of dawn. Just so we could haveour tea and talk about our day.”
Tess nodded, foldingher arms on the counter. “That sounds really nice.”
“It was,” I agreed, andsighed. “It’skindafunny that I just … stopped.Like, she died, and I just never wanted to drink tea again.”
She shrugged, acting asthough it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “It makes sense to me. Itwas your tradition together.”
“But Ilikedtea. Beth got me into it,yeah—before her, I thought it waskindagross—butthen I liked it. And Istilllikeit.”
The kettle began towhistle, and Tess hurried to grab it from the stove before it could wake up thegirls. I took it from her and poured it into a mug, over a tea bag that hadthankfully not yet expired.
It occurred to me, as Ipoured the water in and watched it take on a blackened hue, that it waspossible to maintain these traditions without Beth. I don’t know why, butsomewhere in my mind I had assumed that, it made more sense to put an end tothem. That to continue would’ve hurt more, felt worse, when,in reality, forgettingthem would be no different than forgetting her.These things Ienjoyedwith her.
There was still waterleft in the kettle, and it occurred to me that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to letsomeone else in on the joy of finishing the day with a cup of hot tea. It feltsacred, and I wouldn’t have invited just anybody to partake, but somehow, in thisinstance, I didn’t think Beth would’ve minded.
I looked over myshoulder to Tess and asked, “You want some?”
With a smile, shereplied, “Sure.” And I grabbed her a mug.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JON
“Iwish Tesswas watching us,” Lillygrumbled from the backseat.
“Lilly,” I growled,shaking my head. “For the fifth time, you see Tess nearly every single day. Youhaven’t seen Nana since Tess started watching you, and you haven’t seen Pop-Popin …” I tried to remember, but my memory failed me. “Well, it’s been a reallylong time,” I hastily amended.
“But IlikeTess,” she continued to whine.
“And youlikeyour grandparents,” I countered,raking my fingers through my hair, and Shelly kicked the back of my seat. Again.
The girls hadn’t takenit well, that Tess wasn’t going to be the one to watch them all night. Theywanted to stay home with their toys, their beds, and the woman who had soquickly become an integral part of theirevery daylives. I couldn’t say I blamed them. There wasn’t a whole lot of comfort forthem within the walls of my parents’ house, and guilt told me to be thesoul-owner of that blame.
“They’re no fun. Theyhateus,” Lilly shot back, and there itwas. The final straw.
