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Submitted by: maura_ea On: June 30th, 2005
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Artist's Comment:
SHE WATCHED PATIENTLY AS THE BAG OF TEA SEEPED in the steaming water, at first giving it a light caramel color and then quickly darkening. She loved to watch seeping tea – it was intoxicating somehow to watch such an immense transformation taking place right before her eyes. It was like when she was in grade school and they showed videos of caterpillars weaving their cocoons and then unfolding from them, leaving their home of weeks to wither and fall from the branch they had so carefully chosen. She remembered that because it took weeks for the transformation, the video had been captured using time elapsed photography and how the leaves on the trees in the video has shivered viciously – almost comically. Often she bought boxes and boxes of tea bags, the darker the better, just to seep them in mismatched glasses on her windowsill – observing each one as though it was the first – because no two bags seeped the same. That amazed her.
“Have you ever watched blood dilute in water?” She was pulled from the trance of the seeping tea, and turned to David who sat and watched her as she watched the tea. David was two years older than her sixteen and a very peculiar man at eighteen. He somehow accomplished being ruggedly handsome and gracefully beautiful at the same time and yet not having ever been noticed by a girl. She chalked it off to his curious nature rather than her possible inability to tell the difference between someone who was attractive and someone who wasn’t.
“No…who’s blood would I watch?” She answered, looking back at the glass of water. She felt cheated when she saw that most of the seeping had taken place and the water was now tea.
“Well your own of course. It wouldn’t mean as much if it were someone else’s.” He explained as if it should make complete sense – which was his manner. She nodded, mostly to humor him so that he didn’t feel any obligation to explain his reasoning, but partly because it did make sense. Making sacrifices for the sake of beauty seemed the only way. She began to wonder what blood did look like, as it’s spidery threads spread from its initial drop into a glass of clear water. She wondered about the shade of pink it would create.
Suddenly he was right beside her, his jaw length auburn hair covering most of his face as it fell like a curtain caught in a breeze, and bent to whisper in her ear, “It’s more of a maroon.” He turned away and made to walk out of her bedroom.
“How did you know that I was thinking about that?” She asked, leaving the glass of tea to face him fully. He had a way about him that made you always aware of the fact that he required your complete attention, or nothing at all. Her submission to his want of her attention brought him back away from the door and to the windowsill. His bright green, icy colored eyes bored into her, holding a bit of light and fire at his amusement of her reactions. She once compared David to a scientist; always watching and observing and taking in all around him until nothing was a surprise except for others inability to see as he saw.
“You’ve got a glass face. You always have.”
“No I don’t.” She argued, suddenly feeling open and exposed like a freshly buttered piece of bread, for the first time in a long time since they had met. When she first met him, two years ago, he made her terrible uncomfortable. He looked at her as if she were naked – not in a sexual sort of way – just a way that made you feel as if he could see inside of you and see who you are and what you are hiding. She had gotten used to it though, in the time they’d been friends, or so she thought.
“Yes you do. Why do you think I’m always around you? You’re easy to understand, easy to read, easy to make happy.” He commented as he searched and found a pen off of her desk. He dropped the pen into her glass of tea and swirled it, mixing together what might have been left of any separation of color. He then lifted the glass, with a small motion of salute to her, before drinking more than half the glass. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that he didn’t know where the pen had been, who had touched it, who had put it in their mouths absently as they waiting for a word that eluded them on the tip of their tongues.
“I’m not too worried,” He said with a small smile at her very apparent appalled look of disgust. “I’ve had my shots.”
Trying not to let on that she was again knocked off balance by his perceptive powers, she looked away and said casually, “I don’t think they have shots for what you can catch from that pen.”
“Oh don’t be sore.”
“Stop doing that!” She half shouted, half laughed.
“Let’s get out of here.” He demanded, standing and tossing the pen on the desk, but keeping the glass of tea. “I, unlike you, am not entertained by tea. Besides, it’s Friday night and as a legal adult the idea of sitting here, with your parents in the next room, doing nothing but watching tea, does not appeal to my want of great memories.”
“To my own defense,” She said as she stood and shrugged on her jean jacket and slipped into some over-worked sneakers, “They aren’t in the next room…they are in the room next to that.”
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