A Cup of Time
Fiction by Heather Harrison
Spring 2019
“How are you feeling today, momma?”
The young lady gave her a hug. She smelt like ginger and violets. “Do I know you?”
“You do.” The lady smiled. “It’s me, Marissa, your daughter.”
“Ah, of course.” Shell gripped the handle on the wheelchair with her withered hands. “Is it time to go home?”
“No, momma, you are home.” She started wheeling her down the hall. “Breckenridge, remember? Let’s get you back to your room so you can rest.”
Shell looked over her shoulder. “Your eyes are so pretty. I used to have eyes like that.”
“You still do.” Marissa backed up to steer them into the room. A small bed and a few framed pictures hung on the wall. Beside them, a calendar. One date circled in red.
Marissa slid a tray over the wheelchair. “The nurse told me you haven’t been eating.”
Shell didn’t answer. Her eyes were glued to the calendar. She gasped. “It’s today! Mitchel comes and visits today. How could I forget?” Her eyes darted around the room. “Oh, and look at the mess, and my hair. I’ll need a couple of teacups, of course.”
Marissa knelt and placed a hand on her bony knee. “Mitchel isn’t coming today.”
“Of course, he is,” she argued, shoving Marissa’s hand away. “It’s April eighteenth. He always comes on April eighteenth.”
“Momma, look at me, please?”
Shell refused.
“Mitchel passed away last year. Do you remember?”
She shook her head. “No…that’s not possible. He said he’d be here. He always comes.”
“This is the Alzheimer’s talking, momma. You’re confused. How about we get you settled in your bed and you get some rest?”
Marissa lifted the tray. Shell grabbed the plate off it and threw it against the wall. “He’ll come! He promised!”
Several orderlies ran into the room.
Marissa waved them away. “Okay, momma. How about we fix that hair of yours and get you ready then?”
Two hours later, Marissa was gone, and Shell sat in her wheelchair, staring at the door. Maybe he was running late? Surely, he’d be here soon. Her eyes grew heavy.
Spring 1968
“Might I have a cup of your time?” The man on her porch had a newspaper cradled under one arm and a gentle smile beneath the brim of a worn hat.
Shell held the screen door open with one hand, the other wrapped around a green and white dish towel. “I’m sorry?” She furrowed her brow. “What did you say?”
The man chuckled. “That was my sad attempt at being coy. I thought it would break the ice. Should have known better.” He looked at the sky, his expression one of a child trying to decide whether a cloud looked like a puppy or a bunny. “As a kid I wanted to be a comedian, but, alas, I couldn’t even cut it as the class clown. My name’s Mitchel Barnaby, by the way.”
He lowered his eyes to her face and held out his hand. “I’m here on my yearly visit with my Aunt Dorothy. She lives right on Parker road, half a block south. Dreadful woman for the most part, but family is family and we all have our dues, you know?”
“Of course.” Shell blinked owlishly. “Wait…who are we talking about?”
“There I go confusing you again. Aunt Dorothy can be a fascinating topic of conversation, but that’s not the point of my visit. She told me you just moved into town and it gave me the perfect excuse to escape and introduce myself. So, escape I did, and here I am on your doorstep practically begging for a cup of tea. May I come in?”
Shell looked over her shoulder, then back at him. She twisted the wash towel around until her fingertips turned a plump shade of red.
Mitchel took a step back. “Silly me, I’m sure you’re busy. I heard you made the best tea in town and my curiosity got the best of me. Perhaps I come back another time?”
She lifted her shoulders, the glint in her eye letting him know she wasn’t the type of woman to show fear. “No. It’s fine. I’ll just put on the kettle.”
“Thank you.” He nodded and stepped through the door. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. You are saving me from what could be a truly dreadful time. Aunt Dorothy says your name is Shelly, but you go by Shell. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Shell motioned to the kitchen table where Mitchel took a seat. “Your aunt must have many friends in town. I’ve only met a handful of people and most of those don’t know my preferred name.”
“I wouldn’t call them friends. More like hornets drawn to a nest. She’s nosy. A gossip. Knows everything and everyone. Most times she knows about someone’s passing before their own mother does.”
Shell snickered, her unease at a strange man being in her home melting away. “Where are you from, Mitchel?”
“Here and there. Mostly there.” He took off his jacket and laid it over the back of his chair. “Insurance sales. Used to run my own office but since my wife passed, I have found solace going door to door. Keeps me from alienating myself.”
“I’m sorry about your loss.” She placed a cup of tea in front of him. “You seem awful young to be a widower.”
“Thirty-eight this year,” he said, gently blowing on the tea. “It was cancer. We were high school sweethearts. We had our good times,” he chuckled, “and our share of bad times, but even the bad times were times together. What about you?”
Shell sat across from him, clinking her nails on the teacup. “I moved here about six months ago. I have twins. A boy and a girl. Both started college this year. Top of their class. I couldn’t be prouder.”
“They sound amazing.” Mitchel took a sip of tea. “And their father? Is he proud?”
She ran a finger around the top of her teacup. “He is. Or at least I assume as much. We’re divorced.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Don’t be. It was my choice. Created quite a scandal amongst my church group.”
“Is that why you moved here?”
“Yes. I found I didn’t have as many friends in our hometown as I thought.”
Mitchel took a sip of tea. “This is delicious. I can taste lemon grass and something else?”
“A little mint and ginger. I like to grow my own herbs for tea. I’ve been pretty successful, as you’ve mentioned. A few markets sell my brand even. It has always been a dream of mine. Now that the kids are grown, I can focus on it.”
“True.” He took another sip. Before she knew it, the sun was setting beyond the far window and two plates of apple pie were reduced to nothing but crumbs. As their conversation dwindled into goodbyes, she asked him, “Why did you call it a cup of time, instead of a cup of tea?”
“I was playing it safe. Maybe you were out of tea. Maybe you only had coffee. What I was looking for was an excuse to share stories. Had you been out of tea, you might have turned me down.”
“So you believe I would have slammed the door in your face because you asked for tea when I didn’t have any?”
“Well,” he said, picking up his teacup and wiping it with a napkin, “you might be the superstitious type. Do you know some ancient cultures believe sharing a cup of tea is a sacred vow of trust? They believe that if you drink from another’s teacup, you are granting them access to your memories. Of course, that was back when reading tea leaves could tell your fortune.”
“Sounds logical,” she said, “but what if you refused the cup of tea?”
“Then the host would be insulted.”
“Hmm.” Shell narrowed her eyes and asked, “what if you drank the cup of tea, but then smashed it on the ground?”
Mitchel smirked. “You would be declaring yourself as a mortal enemy.”
Shell gave him a mischievous grin. “What if you took the cup with you when you left?”
Mitchel opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He wagged a finger at her. “Very clever of you. Very, very clever.”
Shell leaned over the table. “Are you saying I have you outsmarted?”
“Not at all.” Mitchel tapped a finger against his forehead. “Since there has been no record of someone taking the cup, I’m just going to have to consider it has never been done. Therefore, we’ve entered the world of deduction and theory, a fourth dimension of sorts. One where anything is possible. A sacred space frozen in time.”
“You’re just making this up as you go along, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps.” He smiled at her and placed his hat on his head. “Perhaps not. Regardless, I must be going. How about same time, same day, next year? I’ll bring my aunt her birthday present, she’ll pass out after cake, then we can have another cup of your delicious tea.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Mitchel finished wiping out his teacup and placed it in the pocket of his tweed jacket with a grin. “Just in case. You can never be too safe now of days.”
Shell was still chuckling hours later.
Spring 1972
Shell slapped her hand on the table and shrieked. “You did not!”
Mitchel grinned and leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. “You don’t even know the best part.”
She joined him in a conspiratorial grin. “No way! What did you do?”
“I did what I had to, of course.” He chuckled. “I puffed my chest out, like a real man, and walked out.”
Her jaw went slack. “You can’t be serious? After she accused you of stealing Aunt Dorothy’s earrings?”
“Very serious.” He sighed. “What do you think would have happened if I’d told her off? If Dorothy is the wicked witch, her sister is the devil. So, I did what any sane person would do. I left.”
Before she could interject, he raised a finger in front of his face. “But I may have opened the bag of manure from the side of the house and poured it in her car since she’d been mindful enough of the heat to leave her car window down.”
Shell burst into laughter.
“You think it’s funny now, but I left my stupid car keys on the mantle, and I’m going to need an accomplice to help me break in tonight to sneak them out.”
By the time he’d left that night, she was one teacup less.
Spring 2019
She opened her eyes and blinked against the light illuminating the doorway.
“Mitchel?”
He stood there; brown hat clutched in his hands.
“Well, hey there, sleepy head. I was wondering when you would wake.”
Outside the window lay darkness. She turned to her old friend. “You are late.”
“I assure you,” he said, stepping into the room, “it is you who are late.”
He kissed her forehead and grasped the handles of her wheelchair. “I have a special place for tea time today.”
Shell squinted. “Why…you look so young, Mitchel. Is this a dream?”
He smiled at her. “No, it’s tea time.”
They rolled down the hallway, past several orderlies who seemed unaware of their presence. At the end stood a room, the door outlined in a bright light. Shell shivered. “I don’t like it here. I want to go back to my room.”
“Don’t be scared. I need you to trust me, to believe me. Can you do that?”
Slowly, she nodded.
Mitchel stepped in front of her and grasped her hands in his. “I found it, Shell. I really did. The fourth dimension.”
He opened the door.
Spring 1980
“Do you ever plan to remarry?” Shell blew over the top of her teacup, her vision foggy from the steam.
Mitchel frowned over the brim of his own. “Don’t really care to. I know Carol would have wanted me to move on. She told me so herself. I haven’t found anyone I’ve wanted to travel this life with, since her.” He winked. “Except you, that is.”
Shell set her cup down, spoon trembling against the edge.
“How about some more pie?” she asked, her eyes not meeting his.
“Shell…”
“I’ll go get us some more pie.”
“Shell…”
He stood and grabbed her hand in his. “I was teasing.”
Her eyes darted to his face. “I know that.”
“Good,” he said, letting go of her hand and sitting. “Have you ever told anyone?”
She furrowed her brow. “Told them what?”
“That you aren’t attracted to men.”
Her face became a bluish shade, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not talking about anything. Just sharing between two friends.”
She stiffened her shoulders. “You’ve always had a dramatic flair, but you’ve gone too far this time.”
“I apologize for offending you.” He stood and grabbed his hat. “I better be going. Same time next year, yes?”
Shell didn’t respond. He left the kitchen and she heard the front door close. It was then she realized he hadn’t taken his teacup. She grabbed it and raced after him. By the time she opened the door, he was at the end of the walkway.
“Mitchel!”
He turned.
“You forgot your teacup!”
He gave her a sad smile. “There are some moments in time you don’t want to remember. This is one of them.”
She watched him walk away.
Spring 1981
Shell ran to the front door and shoved it open. She threw herself in Mitchel’s arms. “I’m so sorry. You were right. I was scared. I’d never told anyone.”
“Of course not.” He held her tightly. “How about we discuss it over a cup of tea?”
Spring 1982-2018
The years passed. They both grew older, greyer, but the tea was always the same. Each year he took his teacup. Each year she went out of her way to find the most whimsical teacup she could for his visits. He’d grin and declare, “This one, for sure, will be the key to the fourth dimension.”
Spring 2019
The door opened. Shell blinked against the bright light. When her eyes adjusted, she gasped. “Oh, Mitchel, it’s my kitchen. It looks just like it did when I moved in.”
A warm breeze blew in through soft yellow curtains. She could smell the honeysuckle which grew beneath the window during spring, could taste the aroma of fresh brewed tea. It was warm inside, but not too warm, not yet at least. They would drink hot tea for now. When the midday sun was high in the sky later, they’d enjoy a glass of iced tea. Sandwiches too. “It’s perfect.”
“It gets better.” Mitchel grinned and held out his hand. “Come on, I have something else to show you.”
Shell shook her head. “I can’t stand. Haven’t been able to in years.”
“Well, you’re standing now.”
Shell glanced down. Gone was the wheelchair. Gone were the non-slip house shoes. Gone were the withered hands. In their place was a woman much younger, a woman she’d long forgotten.
Mitchel tugged on her hand and pulled her to the counter. “Open the cupboards.”
She frowned. “Which one?”
“All of them.”
She did as he asked, leaving them open as she stared.
“What is this?” she murmured. “Why do they all look familiar?”
“These are our cups,” he answered with a smile.
“I don’t understand.”
He walked to the shelves and grabbed one, handed it to her.
She cupped it between her smooth palms. “I remember this one. Got at it the local fair. Ugliest one I could find.”
“Put it to your ear,” he said.
“What?”
“To your ear. Like you would a seashell to hear the ocean.”
Shell furrowed her brow but did as he asked.
“You think it’s funny now, but I left my stupid car keys on the mantle, and I’m going to need an accomplice to help me break in tonight to sneak them out.”
She pulled the cup away, eyes bright with tears. “It’s the day we broke into your aunt’s house!”
“Yes.” He swept his hand around the room. “Each cup is different. Each one holds our memories, a cup of time.”
Shell grinned and held her hand out to him. “Let’s listen to another one.”