Tea

Note: Written around 1997, Tea is being prepared for the upcomming Birch Clump Reader book series. It is set in 1964 or 65.

________________________________________________

     Grandma's porch was the place to be on hot, sultry afternoons. It caught the breeze off Green Bay. It was an old fashioned open porch, with some cracked paint, and sheltered the front of the gray, wood frame house. Jason stayed behind on an extended vacation after his family returned to Detroit.
     Paternal Grandma Helga and her Mom, Ria, lived together. Good Methodist women, they never smoked, imbibed in drink, and were never vulgar in manner of speech. At the same time, they were anything but straight lace. With his parents back home, the Grandmothers were free to spoil Jason as they saw fit. Noontime dinner catered to the grandson's every want, which included generous helpings of his favorite antipasto salad of cool, crisp iceberg lettuce. It was the main meal of the day followed by a short respite. Afterwards he changed clothes, squeezed into a pair of form fitting cut off jeans with frayed ends fashionable in those days, and hit the beach, a block away, so long as he made it back for 4 o'clock tea.
     Afternoon tea was the grandmothers' precious ritual, not to be interrupted nor delayed by tardiness in coming from the beach. This was no problem for Jason, the tea usually proved to be entertaining. Helga first saw to it the kid had two Cokes, a sufficient supply of pretzels, chips and dill pickles put up at home.
     The pickles were his favorite. They were packed in a Mason jar, sealed with a thin, tin lid held down by a screw on collar. Helga packed hers with sliced garlic and a bouquet of dill weed. The olive drab color distinguished her home pickles from the more sanitized brine found on grocery shelves.
     He sat up front on the porch after a change of dry clothes and wet hair neatly combed; both for the best view and to identify distant pedestrians headed their way. Ria took her place in a back corner. A small table separated her chair from Helga's. Helga was busy preparing the tea.
     They were of Norwegian, Swedish and Indian decent not bothering with all the finery of an English tea that would have included a silver tray, teapot, cream, sugar, and a plate of biscuits. They took their tea straight and strong. Pretzels or garden fruit served for their snack. Grandma Helga brought out two cups of tea. Most afternoons consisted of two cups each, except if Aunt May and Uncle Josh should drop in. On such occasions the conversations became livelier and more humorous. Then the Grandmothers might engage in four or five cups.
     Josh brought extra tea, "just in case," in a small paper bag. He cradled that bag close to his chest, not swinging it lunch bag style as one might normally do with a package of tea. Uncle Josh gave Jason a quarter, a handsome tip in those days, on his arrival. After several cups of tea, he might cough up a dollar for his nephew, hush money. A dollar for a kid was unheard of back then.
     One particular afternoon tea just the three of them were at their usual stations, the old ladies trading gossip and filling the kid in on the private details of various neighbors. No matter what negative things they might say about a neighbor or relative, they always included something positive.
     "Mildred does put out a fine laundry."
     This was a very important part of being a good housewife. Dryers were frivolous expenditures, so most women still hung the clothes out to dry. There was a right and wrong way to do this.
     Jason announced the Preacher's widow rounding the corner heading for Grandma's house. This brought about a panic like he's never seen in these two women. Teacups rattled. "Oh my God, Helga," Ria gasped, nearly dropping her cup, "what da hell does she want at dis hour?"
     Both women, ignoring their arthritic conditions, banged their teacups down and headed for the house. Helga paused just long enough to wave a nervous hand over their teacups and an ashtray indicating Jason was to clear these up fast. "Leave your sings," she hissed through clenched teeth.
     They headed for the upstairs bathroom while the grandson gathered up their things and bounded into the kitchen. One crumpled cigarette still smoldered. He sprinkled water on this then wiped the pasty mess into the wastebasket covering the evidence with the sports section of the newspaper. Jason felt the obituary might be called for, that's what older ladies talk the most about, but sports would be a safe part to sacrifice on the spur of the moment. He used scalding hot water on the tea cups, no soap, then quick cooled them in cold water, dried and put them in the cupboard. Hot china might raise suspicions if the preacher’s widow came to the kitchen.
     Mildred was at the door as Jason sprayed the kitchen with lemon fresh something or other; did the same to the living room then went to the door. "Your still here," she observed, "Are your folks about?"
     "No. T’ey went back already. I'm staying another week here, szen I'll go to te Rez."
     [Mildred scanned the youth's jeans, perplexed as to why kids wore them so tight. The flared cuffs rode at mid ankle length, but were sharply tailored detailing Jason's long sinewy muscles from the calvs up. He had knobby knees, firm thighs and a small but youthfully rounded rear, straight hips (practically absent of hip lines), and a low slung belt pressed into what little there was of a waistline.]
     "Ja-eh, well its good to see you. Are your Grandmothers in?" "Let me check," he said, feeling foolish. He preferred to get smart with her and say they went to Detroit also, that he was just keeping an eye on things. She knew they were home; she had to have seen them get up from the porch.
     Jason turned away slowly. He knew the older lady had fixed her eyes on his jeans. Let her get a good look, he thought with a slight smile. He went upstairs to announce the arrival of Mrs. Lavranson. Helga, feigned pleasant surprise, "How nice of her to yust drop in, I'm sure you let her in. Make her some tea,"
     "Damn," whispered Ria, "I forgot to buy any tea."
     "Say, Yason," Helga called him back, "Do you know how to make coffee?"
     "Ja, ja," he said, adding for her peace of mind, "I make it for Dad sometimes."
     "Be a sveet heart and get some coffee perking."
     On the way back down to let Mildred in Jason heard the top of the mouthwash bottle roll on the floor followed by, "Oh, shit."
     "Careful, Mom. Its o.k. I got it."
     Mildred followed him into the kitchen. She gave Jason a hand by pulling out the teacups. Noting the coolness of the cups she remarked, “Didn’t your Grandmas have their tea yet?”
     “What to say,” he thought. He tossed the trap back at her, “Why?”
     The lady was stumped. She stammered a bit.
     Jason couldn’t help twisting the proverbial knife a bit. “Sorry?” He asked daring her to be more up front.
     “Yust wondering,” was the best she could do.
     Jason clamored about filling the basket with fresh ground coffee, the red-bagged Eight O’clock brand that customers ground themselves in the store. The stem was inserted to the basket and notched into the aluminum pot with a click. The basket lid and glass bubbled lid of the percolator replaced then the gas turned on. Jason loved that old stove with the pearly white porcelain handles.
     When the Grandmothers did make it down Jason got a whiff of Listerine with a hint of tobacco and brandy. This would be an hour for the elderly neighbors of playing each other for fools. Jason went back to his place on the porch to eaves drop.

_______________________________________________________________