The Church

Chapter 8: Cup of Tea

Something was not right.

Polly's thin lips pursed tight, eyes following every slow, barely audible sigh you made.

It was the mournful rise of your shoulders that gave it away.

The half-hearted smile you gave to Finn when he completed an equation.

Those eyes of yours were not as vibrant as usual.

Lidden with dark bags and red, fine branches that crept along the whites of your eyes.

Your voice was so soft, that it was almost fading with every word of encouragement you gave.

"Alright Finn, I think you can finish the rest in your room."

Finn opened his mouth before promptly closing it with a nod at Polly's frowning face.

"Thank you [Your Name]." Finn closed his book before throwing his arms around your shoulders.

He made sure to squeeze extra tight before placing a soft peck to your cheek.

He felt your warm hand tickle his thick, brown hair.

"Pleasure," you whispered softly.

It touched you deeply at how sweet the child is.

"He doesn't even do that to Ada, you know?" Polly murmured, placing her tea down and folding her hands onto the table.

"Now," she paused, standing up to grab a porcelain cup.

"Wait Polly..."

Instead, she proceeded to pour you a large cup of steaming tea.

"Cup of tea, love."

It was not a question.

Normally, a cup of tea was something that solved every little problem.

Had a bad day?

Cup of tea.

Someone die?

Cup of tea and hell even light a cigarette.

She then proceeded to place a sugar cube by your saucepan.

One that John groaned about never finding in the house.

Swearing up and down that someone was hiding it from him: the big sweet tooth.

Something that you once thought nothing of, so readily available yet such a rarity in these times.

Only the rich or people with 'special access' had sugar cubes in the 1920's.

Yet here she was, giving you such a rare treat.

Goddammnit she was too good to you.

"Now, tell your Aunty Polly what has made you so blue."

Her warm hand encased yours.

Now you were tearing up dammnit.

"Nothing."

"Famous words that always mean the opposite."

She retracted her hand, only to wipe at the stray droplets on your cheeks.

Her dark, warm eyes were so sincere with worry that it made you feel so guilty.

"I won't force it out of you like I do with the others," she paused, sighing heavily," I want to but I won't. But know that I am always here for you."