Tea for Two

Van Sullivan doesn’t like labels. In fact, the only label she ever applies to herself is ‘woman’, and she wears that label with pride. She eschews labels applied by other people - Wiccan, witch, freak - and lets their judgement flow around her. Better to be a rock in a river of hate, than a reed.

Today, like nearly every other day, Van pottered in her greenhouse. Every single shelf, every single window sill, carried pots of plants, some ornamental and some medicinal, and large-leafed green foliage filled the space. The smells were intoxicating, particularly the smoke from the small hearth built into one side of the space. It was late Autumn, and the tiny fire kept the chill at bay.

A long, battered workbench filled the centre of the space. The surface, worn smooth by decades of gardening and tinkering, held containers of dried herbs and flowers, as per usual; however, on this day, Van had cleared a space to work on some seedlings. She smoked gunja as she transplanted the tiny plants into bigger pots, content with their progress. Suddenly she heard a car pull up, a car door open and slam closed, and angry muttering as footsteps approached the greenhouse. Van smiled as she swung her tin kettle over the tiny hearth to boil some water for tea.

Van chuckled as her niece, Abby, swung open the rickety door and entered Van’s domain. “I fucking hate that bitch." Abby spat the words with venom. She's a true spitfire who never kept her thoughts to herself - at least around loved ones where it was safe to vent.

“Which fucking bitch?” Van asked, as Abby kissed her on the cheek. She offered Abby a pull on the gunja, which Abby gratefully accepted.

“That bitch from my book club,” Abby said, easing herself into a camp chair by the fire. “That fat-shaming, passive aggressive bitch who takes a dig at my size every chance she gets.”

“Oh… that bitch.” Van clicked her tongue in disapproval. She gave Abby a discreet glance, pleased to see her niece calming down. The simple act of entering the greenhouse seems to soothe most people.

“She calls me Big Fat Abby whenever she thinks I’m out of earshot. She casts pitying glances at me whenever a subject comes up that could somehow be about weight or size, no matter how obscure the reference. And today, she offered to swap seats with me because she thought her bench might be sturdier.”

Van clicked her tongue again.

“I was sitting on a log,” Abby continued. “A thick fucking log!”

“Did you say anything?” Van asked, already knowing the answer. Abby would never confront someone in the heat of the moment. She'd prefer to dwell on her feelings and overthink the situation for days, until she eventually berated herself for her perceived weakness. Abby just shook her head, slowly, her eyes downcast and brimming with tears. 

Van, knowing her niece, moved to the chair next to her and wrapped Abby in her arms as the tears flowed. The tears started hot and angry, but eventually cooled and dried out.

“Would you like some tea?” Van said as Abby wiped her face. Abby nodded.

“What do you suggest?” she asked.

“There are three options,” Van said. “First, there’s my Tectonic blend. It grounds you and helps you ignore any negativity.”

“I need more than a cup of tea to develop that skill.” Abby screwed up her face as Van laughed.

“Second, there’s my Downsizing blend. It’ll help you lose weight.”

“Does it actually work?” Abby asked.

“I’d bet my left testicle on it,” Van said, making Abby snort.

“But I love my body,” Abby said. “I don’t want to change anything… apart from how that bitch treats me.”

“Correct answer,” Van said. “You’re beautiful, just the way you are. So the third option is my Blurtleberry blend. It gives you intestinal pain and diarrhoea for several days, and generally makes you miserable.”

“Why would I drink that?” Abby looked confused.

“You wouldn’t,” Van replied. “You’d take it to your next book club meeting and give it to that bitch.”

“Now that tea sounds perfect,” Abby smiled.