S2W4: “Don’t Worry, Mama”

© 2021 Phylicia Joannis

“Mama! I’m so happy to see you!”

Jane Truman embraced her daughter, holding on for dear life. “I’m sorry to come uninvited, Janet.” She sighed.

“Come in out of the elements!” Her daughter shook her head in dismissal. “Don’t worry, Mama. Mrs. Ellison is hardly home, and Mr. Ellison even less. Besides, after what happened . . . just come on in and rest your legs.”

Jane sat down at the kitchen table and smiled at her daughter. She’d been on her way to the senior citizen’s center when she was overcome with an urge to see her.

“You look so happy.” Jane smiled at her.

“I am.” Her daughter sighed. “The money is good, this house is beautiful, and all I have to do is cook for dinner and special occasions. They have a maid that does all the cleaning, so I don’t even have to wash dishes. Would you like some tea?”

“I’ll take a cup, if it’s no trouble?”

“Not at all.” Her daughter waved a hand. “In fact, why don’t I grab some of Mrs. Ellison’s special tea?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Jane began, but her daughter was already deep in the cabinets.

“She keeps her fancy brews up top in the back of this cabinet. She likes to pull them out for her friends on special occasions.” Her daughter began pulling out jars and Jane got up from her chair.

“At least let me help you make it?” Jane offered, picking up jars and reading labels. Her daughter finished unloading jars and smiled at her.

“Where does she get all these?” Jane asked.

“Picks up a new type wherever she travels.” Her daughter shrugged.

“Ivy?” Jane picked up a thick, squat bottle. “How about this one?” Jane asked.

Her daughter nodded. “Sure! I think Mrs. Ellison said she got that one from Hong Kong. Cost $80 an ounce, she claimed.”

“Eighty dollars?” Jane exclaimed. “Maybe we should put it back.”

“No, Mama, she can afford it, trust me. And she never drinks it, anyway. See how full it is? We’ll only take a little bit.”

Jane shook her head and pulled the jar away. “It wouldn’t be right.” Jane replaced the jar on the counter, but the end still stuck out on the edge. The jar tipped and fell to the floor, emptying most of its contents.

“Oh no,” Jane looked mortified. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“It’s ok.” Her daughter sighed. “I drop stuff all the time. We just need to find something similar in color to replace it.” Jane’s daughter picked up the jar, with only half its contents remaining, and set it on the counter. She sniffed the tea.

“It kinda smells like regular tea. Looks like it, too.” She dipped a finger in it and tasted it. “I think this is plain old ordinary black tea. Hong Kong phooey, if you ask me.”

“With an $80 price tag,” Jane quipped.

“Eighty dollars per ounce.” Her daughter giggled.

Jane watched in horror as her daughter grabbed a container of black tea and dumped it into the ivy tea jar.

“I know I taught you better than that!’ Jane scolded her daughter.

“Oh, Mama, you worry too much.” Her daughter laughed as she mixed the contents before sealing the jar. “How about I make you some plain, ordinary supermarket brand black tea?” Her daughter shook the container with the black tea.

“That’d suit me just fine.” Jane watched as her daughter scooped tea into tiny mesh bags and tied them with a ribbon.

“I wonder why she doesn’t use premade tea bags?” Jane mused.

“Apparently it’s more sophisticated to scoop it into your own bags.” Her daughter shrugged. “Oh, would you like some honey? It’s special made and imported from Australia or something. Mrs. Ellison gets a little fussy about this honey, but we’ll only take a drop.”

“None for me.” Jane shook her head. “Just plain old ordinary sugar will do.”

“Well, I’ll take some for myself.”

Jane’s daughter poured hot water in their mugs and added the tea. She gave her mom the sugar and poured a tablespoon of honey for herself.

“So Mama, what have you been up to these days?” her daughter asked. “Will you be part of the class action suit?”

“I haven’t decided.” Jane stirred her tea before taking a sip.

“You should,” her daughter replied. “You deserve it after what you’ve been through.”

“But I made it through,” Jane spoke earnestly. “And I don’t see how money will make things better for me. It won’t change anything, and most of it will go to the lawyers anyway.”

“So don’t spend it on yourself,” her daughter continued. “Do something good with it. You could do more with it than without it. You could renovate the senior center, or help rebuild the playgrounds that got destroyed from the sinkholes. And I trust you to do the right thing more than I trust the city. They had their chance to do the right thing and they didn’t.”

Jane’s daughter paused and put her hand on her head.

“What’s wrong?” Jane asked, alarmed.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Her daughter shook her head. “I’m starting to get those migraines again is all.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to get you all worked up, baby.”

“No, it’s ok,” she replied. “I probably should go rest for a while, though. This one seems pretty intense. I’m sorry to cut your visit short.”

“It’s ok.” Jane stood. “You take care of yourself, ok?” Her daughter nodded and they said their goodbyes.