Close Enough

Black tea. Red tea. White tea. Herbal tea? Were the others not herbal? What marked the difference?

Tea pearls? That did not even sound appetizing. Tea was to be drunk. Not worn on bracelets and necklaces. 

A garishly bright tin in the cupboard caught his eye.

“Rose tea? Why would such a thing exist?” Sanosuke pulled the round tin from the cupboard and shook it, the dried leaves inside whispering harshly.

How was it possible to have so many tea varieties in one cupboard yet not have any tea he recognized? Perhaps tea did not remain the same between worlds?

How distressing.

He set the pink tin back on the shelf with a heavy sigh. For all the difficulties of life in his home dimension, at least they had access to excellent tea.

The screen door squeaked and banged, and he stepped back to see who had entered the kitchen. A blonde girl carrying a woven basket greeted him with a sparkling smile.

“Sano!”

“Ah. Young Miss Mitchell.” He stepped away from the cupboard and bowed slightly. “You are here for Stan, I presume?”

Jenny bobbed her head until her golden curls bounced and set her basket on the table. “We were going to bake today. He taught me how to make scones last week, and so I was going to teach him how to make roti, naan, and papadum today.”

Sanosuke bowed again. He’d learned in the last month or two that the youngest of the Mitchell family tended toward an overabundance of words. In that way, she was much like Karl, yet her vocabulary was far more studied, which was a refreshing change of pace.

“Are you all right?”

Sanosuke blinked. The girl stood, watching him with her head tilted and eyes concerned.

“I am well.” He folded his hands. 

“Are you sure?” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re—quiet.” She left the basket and leaned on the counter toward him. “I mean, you’re always quiet, but today you’re quiet like you’re sad.”

He smiled.

Insightful child.

He turned and shut the cupboard door. “I was looking for tea.”

“Oh, Mia has lots of tea!” Jenny beamed.

“She does indeed.” 

Jenny’s face fell. “But none you like?”

He kept smiling. 

“Was there a tea at your home that you really enjoyed?” 

Sanosuke chuckled. Stars above. If this child had been Reishosan, I would have fallen to them much sooner.

“What’s so funny?”

Sanosuke took a seat at the tall counter. “Your insight is extraordinary, Miss Mitchell.”

Jenny rolled her eyes and hopped into one of the tall chairs next to him. “You know, I have a name, Sano.”

He scowled.

“A first name?” she raised her eyebrows. “I mean, do you want me to walk around here calling you Mr. Itoh all the time?”

“Would this be objectionable in some way?”

“Well, no.” She mused. “But it’s just so formal.” She groaned and threw her head back. “And formal is no fun. Velanna’s formal all the time, and even she doesn’t call me Miss Mitchell.”

“She is your mother, is she not?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Referring to you by such a formal title would be inappropriate then,” Sanosuke nodded. “Whereas I am of no relation to you, thus it is only courteous that I refer to you by your family’s name.” 

Jenny giggled. “Well, just so you know, it’s perfectly courteous enough to call me Jenny. Or Jennifer. Velanna calls me that.”

“This would be an exceedingly familiar form of address, Miss Mitchell.”

Jenny laughed and planted her elbows on the counter as she sprawled like a sunbathing cat. “What kind of tea did you like best at home?”

Sanosuke sat back in his chair and stroked his chin. “We called kocha. A vibrant green tea in powdered form. Not this tea in bags or made from flowers and fruit.” He flapped his hand disgustedly. “Blasphemous.”

“Oh.” Jenny sat up and slid off her chair. 

He frowned as he watched her hurry around to the spice cabinet and dig through the packages and containers inside. 

“In Terran, they call that matcha.” She grinned as she pulled out a small tin and held it up for his inspection. 

Sanosuke squinted to read the tiny print, but he still didn’t recognize any of the words or characters on the label. 

“Mia doesn’t like to drink it, so she uses it for flavoring most of the time.” Jenny dug through a drawer and flipped the switch on the electric kettle.

She grabbed a mug out of the cabinet, carefully measured some of the tea powder into it, and waited for the water to boil.

“It looks like kocha.” He sat forward.

“I don’t make this kind of tea a lot.” Jenny smiled up at him, her dark blue eyes shining. “We do mostly spiced teas at home. Mia likes herbal teas. Stan only does black teas.”

The water boiled, and she poured the hot water into the mug, whisking it rapidly with a fork until it frothed and foamed. Jenny cupped her hands around the mug and turned to Sano, holding it out to him with a bow of her head. 

“I hope it’s good.”

Sanosuke swallowed the lump in his throat as he accepted the warm mug from her small hands. “I am confident it shall be most pleasant.” He bowed his head to her. “Thank you, Miss—Jennifer.”

“Hey!” Jenny turned into a sunbeam. “So you can let your hair down.”

He arched an eyebrow. “My hair is—down.”

Jenny laughed again and returned to the table to unpack the ingredients in her wicker basket. 

Slowly, Sanosuke blew across the top of the tea and gently, carefully took a sip. Warm and smooth and verdant, the tea was like a summer breeze across the ancient plains of the world he remembered. Not quite kocha but certainly close enough.