A Beginner's Guide to the American West ✓

chapter thirty-four

t h i r t y - f o u r

*

"You know what I miss?"

Arjun's voice jolts me when neither of us have spoken for a while. For once, neither of us have been sleeping either. I can't speak for him, but I've been listening to Carrie's music – soft rock, oldies, and the occasional pop song that she insists is a guilty pleasure – and letting my mind wander. His words snap me back to the present. I lift my head from his chest, where I've been very comfortable for over an hour.

"What do you miss?"

"Tea." He sighs. "I miss good tea. Good, proper tea. I'm craving a steaming mug of masala chai, or Earl Grey. Maybe Lapsang Souchong. Even a decent chamomile would do."

"Oh, you're one of those."

"Those what?" He cocks an eyebrow at me when I peel away from him, reluctantly parting from my new favourite spot.

"Tea drinkers," I say, exaggerating my despair. "You're the reason we're stereotyped. People like you, who leave England and cry about the lack of good tea in America."

"It's a very valid concern. Have you tried the tea here? It's either iced – which I love, I won't lie – or it tastes like hot bin juice."

"Hey!" Sam calls from the front. "Do I hear more America bashing back there?"

"American tea bashing," Arjun corrects. Sam's silent for a moment.

"Fair point," he says at last. "You may continue."

"I just really want a cup of tea," Arjun says with a wistful sigh. "I miss Mum's tea cabinet. Of all the things I thought I'd miss while I was away, that didn't make the top five."

"It must be one hell of a cabinet."

"It really is. She goes to India at least once a year, to see family, and I swear the only reason she takes a suitcase is to fill it with tea to bring home. I'm pretty sure she was feeding it to me as a baby."

"So you don't miss English tea. You miss Indian tea."

He gives me a withering look. "Where do you think tea comes from?"

"Yorkshire," I mutter, if only to pull his leg.

"Ha, ha," he says, so drily I need a drink.

"In all fairness, the only tea we have at home is Yorkshire Tea."

"Guess where that comes from?"

"Yorkshire."

Judging by the look he gives me, I've just dealt him the deepest betrayal and I feel myself shrink under his hard stare.

"Assam," he corrects.

"Is that in Yorkshire?" I ask. I'm only half joking. Clearly, by the set of his eyes, it's not, but my geography is absolutely atrocious. He could name any country and I'd believe him, and its not like I'm about to go and check where Yorkshire Tea gets its tea.

"It's in India."

Whoops.

Arjun dramatically rolls his eyes and his disgust fades, something closer to fondness settling in his expression. He puts his hand on my knee. "Seems like someone needs an education."

"We established that long ago."

*

Over the next thirty minutes, our conversation wends itself away from my shocking lack of knowledge about all things tea and most things India, much to Arjun's amusement – and slight disdain, I'm sure – and back towards companionable quiet.