The rain was bouncing off the pavement nearly a foot high as I listen to the thundering noise from our tin roof. It was always so calming to listen to the rain on the roof. Not today. Today it was just annoying, and I found myself in a foul mood. The paper was late, but I didn’t blame Bradley. He was a good boy, who had perfect aim with the paper; always landed right on the front porch, weather permitting of course. Today I found myself envious of his youth. The way he peddled his bike so vigorously, never seeming to slow his rapid leg pumping drive. Damn him and his energy! I ruffled yesterday’s paper and felt the pain burn in my swollen knuckles.
“Fuck this!” I growled loudly to the paper, as I shoved it down between the cushion of my well worn Lazy Boy.
“Do you want a cup of tea, Martha?”
Silence. She must be in one of her moods again. This friggin weather could plant a burr on anyone’s ass. I headed into the kitchen and filled the old steel kettle and sat it on the right front burner. Always the right front burner. It was the only one that worked half decent on this old piece of shit stove. I looked at my reflection in the dull stainless steel of the kettle. You whiskered old fool, I thought to myself. Why don’t you smarten the hell up and get yerself shaved and shined up?
“You’re just as handsome as the day you walked me down the aisle. What was it, Forty five years ago?”
Forty seven years. Forty seven years ago. My god, where did the time go? It was so hot that day, even the flowers in the church were drooping. I remember as if it were yesterday, when the priest announced us Man and Wife, and we turned, and everyone put down the programs they were fanning themselves with to stand and honour us as we were presented to the congregation. When we stepped out onto the church steps, and that hot July sun nearly knocked us over. Jeepers, it was like walking into an oven. I remember when the picture taking seemed to take forever, and all I had on my mind was dipping into that cold beer that was waiting for me at the reception. And the reception! Good Lord the band played until three o'clock in the blessed morning because our guests kept plying them with five and ten dollar bills.
“There’s the whistle for the kettle”
“That old kettle; just as good as the day we bought it at Woolworths. How long ago was that?”
Why in the hell did time seem to play tricks on us? Shit I remember when I was fourteen and couldn’t wait till my sixteenth birthday to get my beginners, so I could finally drive the family car. Then, I couldn’t wait till I was nineteen so I could ‘legally’ order a drink in the damn bar. Back then time was like cold molasses. It just seemed to lag so slowly. It seemed like eons from one birthday until the next. I don’t know when it changed. When did time start to go faster? When did life start to careen out of control, where there didn’t seem to be enough hours in the day?
I shrugged off those muddling thoughts and turned off the burner. The steady high pitched whistle from the kettle started to grow fainter as the steam slowed its furious escape. I noticed a small shake in my hand as I gingerly retrieved the ancient tea pot from the cupboard. Best not drop that pot. It was Martha’s mother’s from God knows how far back, but it made the perfect pot of tea. I threw 2 teabags in and one for the pot, and filled the rose decorated porcelain with steaming hot water. You have to use boiling water, and you have to let the tea sit for a bit as it steeps.
“Let the tea mash for a bit Harold”
“Remember when I asked you one time about that expression? We always said ‘the tea has to steep’, in my household, but you always said ‘Let it mash a bit’. You told me it was what was always said at your house growing up. Must have been the English influence, you said, Remember that? I remember your mother, God rest her soul. I always thought her accent was so regal sounding. Even though your family didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, she was always well turned out. Never a hair out of place, and I remember, even though times were tough, your brothers and sisters, and you, always had impeccable manners.”
