The Tea Leaves

Paul Bell

Genecia was an angry girl. Actually, Genecia was always angry, 24/7, 365 days a year. This was even reinforced by her own mother, who told her often enough. Genecia, you were born angry. Well, if her mother was walking in her shoes just now, she would be angry. She had got the bus into town to check out a restaurant that was supposed to be opening. The sign on the window said differently. Due to unforeseen circumstances. It was always something, Genecia thought to herself. When the hell was she going to get a break. She tried a few other places, but no luck. She made her way back to catch the bus home. The bus ran straight past her. If Genecia was angry then, she was bloody apoplectic now. He drove by her cos she was black, the stinking white racist bastard. She started walking the five miles home.

 

John admired himself in the mirror, the gleaming black uniform just stood out, the shiny buttons, the hat that made him feel ten feet tall. He had never worn it outside, but what the hell, he lived in the middle of nowhere, who would know.

 

Genecia had managed a mile before her heel broke off.

Jesus, give me a break. She noticed a track leading off the main road. Maybe this could take a few miles off her journey. What the hell. She took her shoes off and began to walk barefoot.

 

John felt the sun in his eyes, the tunic buttons glistened in the midday sun. Looking down at his jackboots, gleaming from the hours he had spent polishing them. God, it was good to be alive.

 

Genecia turned the corner only to be confronted by the black uniform almost upon her. She threw all five feet three inches of herself on top of him.

John was totally taken off guard thinking a wild cat was attacking him, then realising it was a girl. Being six foot four and weighing two hundred and twenty pounds slightly helped as he tried to restrain her. What the hell do you think you’re doing.

I’m attacking a giant lump in a Gestapo uniform, what do you think I’m doing.

It’s an SS uniform, and you’ve bloody ruined it.

Well, excuse me for dirtying your pretty uniform, but I could have sworn this was America.

It is America, and you’re on the part I own.

Typical white boy retort. Maybe I missed the no blacks' entry sign.

What are you doing here, anyhow?

I’m taking a shortcut home, what do you think I’m doing.

You do know mountain climbing is difficult to do in bare feet.

What the hell are you on about.

Let me explain it to you in simple terms. I assume you think you’re taking a shortcut to Bakers Town, which in theory would be correct if there wasn’t a bloody great mountain blocking your route.

Are you saying I’m stupid, cos if I think that’s what you're saying, I’m going to whip your ass?

Jesus, you are one angry woman.

I swear to god, do not call me angry, I am not angry.

Okay, miss not so angry, if you turn around, Bakers town is seven miles that away.

Right, little Hitler, I’ll get off your precious land then.

John watched her walk off, then realised how he must have looked marching towards her. He shouted back to her. Hey, do you want to use the phone and freshen up.

Who stays in your house, the Ku Klux Klan.

If it was, they’d be running for the hills by now

Will you be taking the uniform off?

Yes, I’ll be taking the uniform off.

You won't molest me.

No, I value my life too much.

Genecia thought for a while. She was really done in, and the thought of walking home just wasn’t a comforting one. I could do with a coffee.

Well, I think that’s the least I can do for you, follow me.

Genecia followed behind, realising the absurdity of it all. She envisaged writing in her diary. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. The house was stunning, unlike any farmhouse she had ever seen. It just looked regal in the land of rough. One part of her just wanted to cry. She had never known luxury and maybe resented the fact. But she had her pride, it had taken her this far in life.

Come on in, the phone is on the wall there. I’ll go and change. You’re on the Massey farm. Do you want a bite to eat with your coffee?

Yeah, thanks. Genecia looked around, the house was modern with a welcoming feel about it. It just seemed in total contrast to the person living in it.

He came through with coffee followed by chicken casserole.

I’m really sorry,I’m John, by the way, forgot my manners, I don’t usually see people for weeks on end up here.

Okay, I’m Genecia.

Okay, Genecia, you tuck in, do you want a glass of wine to wash the chicken down.

Yeah, that would be great. Genecia wondered if she was getting fattened up for the kill. What do you do here, John, I don’t see any animals around.

No, the animals were sold off when my gran died, I came back to sell the place.

Right, so you don’t live here.

No, I stay in New York.

That must be great.

It was, I mean, it is. I own a restaurant out there, but I’ve been here for months now.

Can you not sell the place, is that it?

No, I sort of fell in love with the place again. It’s hard to explain.

So, who runs the restaurant in New York.

Ellie runs it.

Is she your girlfriend?

No, Ellie’s not into men.

I don’t understand.

She’s into women.

God, you white folks are queer.

Ellie’s Black.

What, I don’t believe you, how can she be. Does she know you walk about in a Gestapo uniform, I mean, SS uniform?

She knows I have a passion for military regalia. Though she does rib me about it. But today was the first time I’ve ever worn it outside. You would be a friend for life if you told Ellie about our meeting today.

So, if you’re not in New York now, and you want to stay on the farm, what are you going to do.

I bought a restaurant in town.

Is that the one that’s not open due to unforeseen circumstances.

Yeah, that’s the one, did you visit it.

That’s the reason I ended up here. Genecia explained what had happened. What are the unforeseen circumstances?

Blueberry pie. It doesn’t taste the way gran made it, and I wanted that to be my theme dish.

Let me see how you’re making it.

They both went into the kitchen and John started mixing the ingredients.

Okay, you keep mixing, I need to pop outside for a minute. Genecia looked around till she found what she was looking for. When she got back, she ordered John out of the kitchen. She began to add the extra ingredients. Okay, the pie is ready to go into the oven. Now we wait.

Fifty minutes later, the pie was ready.

He cut into it like he was performing an operation, gently blowing before finally tasting it. That’s it, that’s grans pie, I knew I wasn’t going nuts. What did you put in it?

We’ll have to negotiate terms before I tell you.

What do you mean, terms?

I mean, what is my position in this new restaurant. Am I head of baking, will I have a title.

My God, you are something else. This is tantamount to blackmail.

Is that a yes.

I suppose so. What’s the ingredient.

All in good time. Let’s have a toast to our new restaurant.

You mean my restaurant that you’re starting work in.

Yes, that one.

He poured two glasses of Jack Daniel's, and they toasted the restaurant.

They talked for a while about recipes and life and how the restaurant should serve the community. John went off to make more coffee, returning to find Genecia fast asleep. Well, John boy, you can still send them to sleep.

He found a cover and placed it over her. It was then he realised how beautiful she was when she wasn’t angry.

Genecia was in a deep sleep now, back as a little girl talking to  Mama. Mama, who am I going to marry when I grow up.

Mama checked the tea leaves and explained to Genecia how they worked. Well, Genecia, he’s going to be tall dark and handsome, then she paused.

What’s wrong, Mama.

He’s white.

Aw, Mama, you’ve been drinking the moonshine, tall dark and white don’t make sense.

Genecia, the leaves never lie.

Genecia woke up screaming. I’m not marrying you, I’m not.

You’re not marrying who, are you, alright.

Yes, no. This is so crazy, mad even.

Are we talking about the man you’re marrying?

It’s you.

What’s me.

It was the uniform, don’t you see.

No, I haven’t got a clue.

Mama got confused by the black uniform.

I still don’t get it.

Mama told me when I was younger I would marry a tall dark stranger who was white. I thought she was drinking the moonshine.

Does Mama read the tea leaves?

She’s dead now, but yes.

Oh boy, Oh boy, you’re right it’s sheer madness. John walked out of the house, then walked back in. You’re pint size, the wild one.

Who you talking about.

I’m talking about you.

Did you just call me pint size, cos if I think you did, I’m going to whip your ass?

I didn’t call you that, gran told me about you a long time ago, it’s just come back to me, so blame her.

Is that her buried out there.

Yeah.

I’m going out to have a word with her.

You’re going out to talk to a grave.

Damn right I am, nobody calls me pint size.

What the hell are you going to say to a grave?

You’ll be surprised at what I can say.

Think I preferred you when you were sleeping.

Genecia went outside, walking up to the grave of John’s grandmother. She knelt down beside it and began to speak. I don’t know how you and Mama did it, and I don’t care. But from this day on, I will never be going home. The Massey farm is going to come back to life, the restaurant will be a great success. In time, they’ll be little Massey's running around. I’ve been angry all my life, Granny Massey, but today has changed all that, destiny has brought us together, purpose has come back into my life. I’m going to make your grandson the happiest man on earth. But before this, all happens and I think you’ll agree, Granny Massey. I need to dig a hole and bury a uniform.

  • Author: Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 26th, 2022 04:46
  • Category: Short story
  • Views: 19
  • User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
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Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    'All in good time. Let’s have a toast to our new restaurant.
    You mean my restaurant that you’re starting work in.
    Yes, that one.'
    lol
    I hope you forgive me
    but I'm going to be a little bold and try to be completely honest, my friend
    (see, the problem isn't the Uniforms
    they, are easy to see
    avoid and tackle..
    the problem, dear kind Poet
    is that
    many people wear their uniforms
    beneath, tanned
    skins..
    and so, instead of driving past
    the driver's of modernity
    charge a different fare, based
    on our skin tints, level of brown
    and
    best friends, get on like family
    they chose
    until, the winds of change breezes-in
    and politics, dwindles down
    to neighbourhood policies
    and cost of living costs, see
    then
    just as planned by those
    invested in maintaining
    that chaotic havoc
    of our societal, status-quo;
    those once, ardent BFF's
    find themselves
    on opposing sides, overnight
    where We
    becomes, 'these lot'
    and Us
    no longer includes, those
    whose presence, burdens
    their bank balances)
    so yes, this is a very idyllic
    and beautifully crafted
    fairytale of a story
    an antidotal, tale
    to weave an overnight bridge
    aimed at healing differences
    and cultivating, togetherness
    but
    it tackles, or confronts
    non
    of the evolved, systemic
    problems
    that continues to plague
    us, All
    and segregate each other
    on basis
    of gender, sexual or religion preference
    and as-ever, our skin
    and national flag, tints..
    (still, saying all that
    this is my favourite
    of everything
    I have been privileged to read
    from that poetic genius, mind
    you Choose to share with us)
    thank you! dear Poet

    • Paul Bell

      You're spot on, LB. I think, to a certain degree, people wear a suit to fit the situation they're in.
      Will this ever change, I doubt it. Britain I do believe is a tolerant society, but we have our ways, and we like those ways. If others don't fit in with those ways, then conflict ensues. We're still the funniest lot in the land, and that's what really counts.

      • L. B. Mek

        Amen!
        humour goes a long way
        'if we can laugh at ourselves
        at our situations
        then we can see ourselves
        and what we see
        we can do something about...'
        (forgot to mention
        your characters were wonderfully realised
        and the message, a comforting one
        'serendipity'
        is a lovely theme to anchor a romantic story)

      • Bella Shepard

        I'd like to know when you're going to write the novel based on this short story, because I'll be first in line to buy it. No joking, It is such an endearing story, and I want more, please. I love your characters, I love the serendipity of the situation. A best seller in the making?

        • Paul Bell

          Your book will be out before mine, Bella, I really don't have the discipline to sit down, something always sends me off in another direction. lol



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