I went over to my Grandma’s last Sunday, the way we always did. She’s got one of those houses that looks a century old, and smells like it too, but you just know that the porch is as steady as it’s always been, even in the middle of a swamp full of rotting wood. There’s a history to that house too; my great grandpa built that house for his wife and kids, and it’s been lived in that whole time. Grandma’s the last one alive from that crop, and though she’s got all kinds of children and nieces and children of nieces, she always told me I was her favorite with a wink and a smile, although there wasn’t anyone else to hear but the crickets and the willows.
I’m not sure why she said I was her favorite, as far as school and boys I was the plainest girl around, and noone ever let me forget that. But she knew I liked the trees and books, and that was good enough for her.
But as plain as I was, my Grandma was not. People said she knew Voodoo, and that was why she got the house, and she’d be willing to read your palms for a snail’s shell from under the old tree out front that was all gnarled and covered with lichen. And the company she kept certainly did nothing to discourage those rumors, welcoming vagrants and strange men in for cookies and cream.
So it was that one Sunday afternoon, my Grandma welcomed me inside for tea.
“Don’t you want some sweet tea? I’ve just put some ice in.”
“Sure Grandma.”
She poured some into her china cups as soon as we came into the tiny kitchen. The ones in the cabinet were for show, the ones in the kitchen were for tea. Her portly little figure kind of reminded me of a tea kettle as she settled into her chair, now worn with use.
“Ah, now isn’t that good.”
I sipped the tea gingerly. “It is. Grandma, you always make it so good. How do you do it?”
She grinned. “Love, dear. That’s all it needs.”
“Really. Well, I guess my love is stale and bitter then. Should I get some new love?”
“Oh, well, you’ll find it soon I guess.” Grandma could make me laugh at my own problems.
“Thank you for the tea, it’s really good.”
“Ah, don’t mind. I love it when you come. Everyone else is just so annoying; ‘Am I getting inheritance? Where’s my money? Can I have some more sugar in my tea?’ To which I have to answer ‘No, it’s sweet enough as it is, and you don’t need any more pounds.'” She burst into laughter. “But really, it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
“Yeah.”
“So, how’s it going with school?”
“I’m fine.”
“Getting into any trouble?”
“No, not really.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes seemed to bore into me like bugs into wood.
“No, I’m fine Grandma, it’s really nothing.”
“All right then. Hey, did you get any tea leaves?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Let me take a look.”
I handed it to her, and she hmmed and hahhed for a little bit, turning it this way and that.
“What do you see?”
She cut me off with a look. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”
“Oh, but I guess I can tell you. I think you’ve got… boy problems… not enough of them… and… you don’t like your school… or really your home… am I right?” “Oh come now, you can’t expect boys to look at you with your jaw open like that.”
“Alright, yeah, you’re right.”
“Honey, you’re moping.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re right. How’d you know?”
“Oh, the magic.” She waved a frail hand at the ceiling. “And some good old wisdom.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I can tell you have boy problems because you always come here, instead of that place that’s open on Sunday nights. You don’t like your home because you’re always reading, and nobody likes school. It’s pretty simple.”
“Wow. You think you could teach me to read tea leaves?”
“Oh darling, there’s nothing magic about the tea leaves. It’s the time we spend together! Now how about some dessert?”