BROKEN BEGINNINGS

Chapter 4 - The game of tea and scones

I frown at my living room, the mustiness blanketing the whole room like a sticky web, catching you and making you cough and sneeze.

"Sarah will throw a fit," I groan aloud, wondering what the hell to do with myself.

I finally manage to get the coffee table (that's missing one leg) to stand up properly by stacking dusty volumes of encyclopedias left by the person who inhabited this place before me from the floor up to the splintered stump on the underside, where the old leg used to be.

I peer out the window, the small, square glass panes coated in black grime. The sun wobbles higher in the sky, and the splintered grandfather clock groans twelve times, making the entire house shudder.

A crisp rap rattles the front door: Sarah had arrived.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door, cringing at the horrid screech it made. Once more, standing on my stoop, is Sarah.

"I've been so excited to meet you," Sarah purred. This line puts me off, seeing that I had known her for years before now.

"C-come in," I say, mustering a wan smile and stepping back to let her in.

"Such... lovely... decor," Sarah wheezes, quickly covering her mouth and nose with a frilly handkerchief, and I can see that she's just trying to be nice. I mentally stamped her efforts with an inky red FAIL.

Sarah pats one of the cushions on the sofa, sending up a cloud of dust. Sarah lets out a nervous giggle, gingerly easing her bum onto the edge of the worn cushion stamped with fading floral patterns that once promised paradise, now dirty and gray. Another eruption of dust flies out from behind Sarah, who gives another nervous giggle.

Reaching into the large wicker basket she brought, Sarah begins to unpack biscuits, rose-hip tea, a pair of cups and saucers, and even tiny tea cookies. I watch her intently, perched on the couch across from her.

Sarah finally leans back with a smile, the coffee table now fully set for a luxurious tea party.

"Shall we dig in?" Sarah asked sweetly. I knew what was coming next: a line of questioning so long and horrid that I wouldn't be able to keep a single secret from Sarah. Or, at least, that's how it was before.

I take a deep breath. This is a game of tea and scones, and Sarah is winning.

But that's nothing I can't change. Sarah may think she has the winning hand in this game, but if I play my cards smartly, she doesn't stand a chance.

"So, how is your life? Financial-wise I mean. I never see you in town, so you obviously don't work." Sarah needles. I barely avoid spilling tea down my front, the steaming golden liquid wobbling at the edge of the floral painted creamy white porcelain tea cup.

"Oh. Um, my... parents! Yes, my parents left me all the money through their will before they died in an, uh, boating accident," I lie quickly. I didn't know my parents. I don't know their names or own any of their possessions. I don't even know if I had parents.

Sarah frowns, as if expecting a different answer. "Oh." She says simply, plastering on a sugary smile. "Have a biscuit! They're fresh from the bakery oven, and we ought to have them before they dry out, no?"

I hesitantly take the warm, crispy ball of dough from her, crunchy flakes floating from the outer layers and onto the couch around me. I take a nibble, more crumbs showering onto my pants. Most girls in 1881 don't wear pants, but I honestly don't care. Dresses are too puffy, if one would believe that.

Sarah continues to interrogate me, and I spit out honest answers at times, and when necessary, absolutely lie.

"How many siblings do you have?"

"None."

"What were your parents' names?"

"Um, Robert and M-Martha,"

"Where did you live before you came to Bogs Ferry?"

"London,"

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"Overly happy people."

Sarah doubled over in lady-like laughter at my last answer. "Oh, Tarese! You really are too funny!" She snickered.

"Most people say I'm bitter and grumpy, so one of you is lying." I say, giving her a suspicious look, and Sarah's smile instantly stiffens.

"Well, those people are obviously just delusional assholes," Sarah chirped, trying to lighten the mood. I only offer a sullen half-nod of what was supposed to be agreement, but came out with a hollow feel, like I didn't really know what I was agreeing to.

"Yes, yes. So, do you have any..." Sarah drops her voice, her emerald eyes sparkling as she leans toward me. "Boyfriends?"

I drop my entire tea cup, its hot contents spilling into my lap. "Shit!" I puff, dabbing at the sticky mess with a towel. This is technically Sarah's fault because of all the honey she put in the damn tea.

"No, no boyfriends," I sputter, wiping my hands off on the sticky towel.

The grandfather clock in the foyer moans, tolling six, causing both Sarah and I to jump.

"Oh my! Is it really that late? I'm awfully sorry to keep you so late, darling," Sarah chortles, scooting toward the door.

"What about the tea and things?" I ask, chasing after her.

"Keep them!" Sarah calls over her shoulder, flouncing out the door and into the fiery orange sunset.

I watch her skip down the hill, hoping that, just maybe, my second life won't end quite as badly.

I didn't have the faintest wisp of a clue how wrong I was.