Teatime

Teatime

by Gratia Serpento

The yelling echoes from the living room, matching the yelling of yesterday's argument. Same sounds, different reasons. No one knows why they're fighting, but everyone can hear it. 

I stay in my little room on the second floor, surrounded by my toys and blankets and a paint-stained coffee table my grandpa found at a garage sale. I had taken some of Mom's wine glasses and Dad's coffee mugs and placed them in a circle on my coffee table—we didn't have any fancy teacups, after all, and a girl had to make do with what she had. 

I use my Uno! cards as coasters. I pour a little bit of milk into each glass and mug, all six of them, and add drops of blue food dye. With a gentle swirl, white turns to my favorite color, matching the color of the rainstorm outside.

I put on the pink dress I once wore for my cousin's wedding, and I stack my stuffed animals around the table, putting boas and hair ties on their wrists and on their heads. 

To my guests, I whisper, "Welcome to Lady Lemon's Annual Tea Party!" I grab my coffee cup and stick my pinky out. "Let's eat!" 

I dip an Oreo into my glass of milk and watch as the chocolate chunks disappear into the blue liquid. I know, once I drink down to the bottom, I'll get a mouthful of chocolate.

"Miss Hallie, would you pass the sugar lumps?" I reach over and use the stuffed bear’s paw to push the cheese cubes closer to me. "Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it." 

I focus on the sounds of my own giggles and pretend that I don’t hear the yelling and shouting and door slamming coming from downstairs. I munch on the Oreos and cheese cubes instead of watching the ways the walls shake from the blistering storm.

I try to focus on my own slice of paradise. It's not much, but it's everything. It's a paradise I find with a mismatched tea party.