Hitta's Tea Maker

by Edwina Fort

  She took the check and had the nerve to ask for a half pound of my healthy heart blend that I’d been making for her since I’d opened the place, a hundred- and twenty-two-dollar order that she never once offered to pay for. Of course, she didn’t look at that as a handout, instead, she saw it as something she was owed for allowing me to exist in her realm. She always took the tea without even a thank you…today was no different.

  “And don’t be long getting that wall finished. There’s a draft coming in through that hole.” She shivered for good measure and then turned and marched on out the door, causing the little bell over it to ding angrily.

  I had to bite down on my tongue so that I didn’t call her an old hag. Instead, I reminded myself why I put up with her crap by letting my gaze take in my amazing tea shop. Ms. Armstrong was a slum lord, but she had a treasure of a building buried here in the heart of Oak Park.

  When I stumbled upon this place, it was just sitting empty and abandoned. She was doing nothing with it. I found out from the city that it was her father’s general store some years back and had been willed to her after he died.

  She'd never done anything with it, practically forgetting it existed. When I finally hunted her down and asked to buy it, she told me she would get back to me after she'd talked to the family lawyer. Of course, she never got back to me, so I had to hunt her down again.

  She then quoted me a ridiculously expensive amount.

  “But the building is abandoned…” I reminded her.

  “Do you want it or not, missy?”

  That’s when I realized what I was dealing with. My shoulders slumped and I almost gave up. That night, I stood outside the shop looking into the dirty windows, just imagining what could be.

  “Be a shame if that old biddy’s greed keeps you from having this gem.”

  I smiled at the sound of Tabitha’s voice…her just seeming to appear out of nowhere no longer surprised me. She cupped her eyes with her hands and looked through the dirty glass into the shop.

  “Going to need a lot of work though.”

  “Yeah it is…but it won’t be me doing it. I can’t afford what she’s asking for the place, let alone fix it up.”

  Okay…really quick, just so that you guys are not in the dark, let me explain a few things about my great, great---you know what, skip that. From now on, I’m just going to refer to her as Greatie, that’s what I’d taken to calling her years ago.

  For a long time, I thought she was a figment of my imagination. The first time I could remember talking to her, I was five…still living at home with my mom, who was strung out and still is on every drug beneath the sky. She used to leave me at home by myself sometimes without any food.

  It was during those times when I saw Greatie the most, she would come and see me and bring me food. That’s when she first started teaching me about teas. She would bring several plants for me to study and while I experimented with them, she would sit and embroider. When I told my mom about her, she laughed and said I had an imaginary friend.

  She had even convinced me it was true. So, after that, whenever Greatie showed up, I’d just assumed she was from my imagination, except my pants that had once had a hole in them was now sewn up. And the skirt that had been too short, was longer…and not to mention the pretty pink sweater she made me with the word chosen stitched over the heart, that I still had to this very day. Sometimes, I let Jessie wear it when she was over my house.

  Anyway, …my mom never noticed these things, because like I said, she was always too high. Greatie didn’t show up every day…She didn’t even show up every month. Sometimes years would go by in between her visits.

  But I always remember her showing up at pivotal points in my life. The day they took me out of my mother’s home, she came and saw me before the police showed up, telling me my life was getting ready to change. And the day I moved in with Westly and his family, she came and warned me about Stan, Westly’s stepdad. She said that he was a predator and I had to always sleep with one eye open while in his home.

  By that time, I'd already been to several foster homes and knew well how to sleep with one eye open. But she told me that I would find a temporary protector in West…but that he wouldn't remain so. She told me not to worry because the Ancient of Days never left his children defenseless…and that he would send me a true protector that will slay all of my monsters.

  It was during that time that I realized that she wasn't a figment of my imagination. Westly came in the kitchen one day while I was trying out a new tea recipe and she was sitting at the table working on my eighth-grade graduation dress.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  I whipped around from the stove. “You can see her?”

  Both he and Tabitha looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. And at that point, I thought I had. You see, if Tabitha wasn't a figment of my imagination and was in fact real, then that meant she was really my great, great, great…only God knows how many greats grandmother.

  My mom’s mom died when I was five. I remembered going to her house a few times, but not many because she didn’t support my mom’s way of life. I remember seeing pictures of my great grandmother on my grandmother’s walls, although they favored her, neither of them was Tabitha.

  Greatie said that my mom’s mom was her great, great, great, many greats granddaughter.

  So, you guys may ask the question, how do you know she’s not just some crazy old woman lying to you?

  Well…because I look just like her. I mean almost identical. She’s short like me, her skin is the same shade of brown as mine. Her hair is white now from age…but it’s the same length and even the same grade as mine. She has the same birthmark I have on my shoulder. It’s a brown mark that resembles the continent of Africa…I kid you not.

  Although she’s clearly much older than me, her skin barely has any wrinkles, just a few laugh lines around her eyes and lips. She said it’s that way because she drank herbal tea her whole life. Her love for tea passed down to me. Although technically, she’s a seamstress…and I can’t stitch to save my life, she is definitely my kin.

  It was then I learned and accepted that there was more to this world than what we were being told. It was also then my nightmares started…However, I’ll tell you guys about those a little later.

  Anyway, so she and I are standing there in front of the shop that at the time, was abandoned when she came up with a beautiful idea.

  “Well, if it’s too high to buy, how much do you think she’ll charge you to rent it?”

  I turned to look at her with a big grin on my face.

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Greatie!” And then threw my arms around her and gave her a huge kiss on her cheek that caused her to chuckle.

  That next week, I was signing a two-year lease on the tea shop. Ms. Armstrong’s rent was still a little high, but this was Oak Park, everything was high in this area. Plus, this place was so worth it.

  The hardwood floors were very old, but when I’d first rented the place instead of tearing them up, I had them waxed until they shined brightly, highlighting their uniqueness. The walls were all various shades of brown cobblestone that really added a homey feel to the place.

  I’d lucked up and found an antique sectional couch that was quite big and comfortable at a storage auction a few years back. I got it reupholstered in Ankara African fabric that blended in perfectly with the walls and the floors.

  I’d used the same fabric on the two big claw foot chairs that sat in front of the fireplace that I kept lit in the wintertime. Between the two chairs sat an oak table that had a chessboard carved into the top. Each of the pieces had been carved out of oak wood as well. That table had been a gift to me from one of the charities I did an annual fundraising for.

  On the walls, I had a few paintings and some of my favorite quotes from the book of Proverbs. I had several bookshelves that had every book I could find about herbs and teas on them. I’d managed to get fifteen tables in my space without making it feel
overcrowded. The tables were all old wood that I allowed my customers to autograph…I felt it added a little character to the place. I wanted them to feel that they will always be a part of it.

  I had a few plants scattered in the mix for color and also because Greatie says one should always have plants in your environment because they helped to purify the air.

  But as amazing as my dining room was, the coup de grace was my tea collection. One of the main reasons I’d chosen this place for my shop was the deep mahogany wood wall of shelves that were behind the L shaped counter.

  Whoever had designed them was simply brilliant. They’d carved them out of the wall, and they went from floor to ceiling. Somehow, they’d managed to get them to form a curve. I had exactly eight hundred jars in varies sizes, of herbs, roots, and flowers lined up on them that I was very proud of.

  And you already know because I was short as all get out, I had me a step ladder on wheels that I used for the top three shelves.

  On the counter, I had two big golden antique steamers…another storage auction find. Even though I only sold tea…I could make it several ways. To give my coffee addicts the full tea experience, I often steamed it with a bit of milk and cinnamon. I am proud to say that I have successfully converted hundreds of coffee drinkers to tea drinkers.

  I smiled as I gently nodded my head. I’ve created my own little slice of heaven in this shop. It made putting up with Ms. Armstrong’s ignorance well worth it. Inhaling deeply, the smell of herbs filled my nose comforting me.

  However, my gaze fell on the huge hole in my wall covered by the thick plastic and I cringed. She wasn’t lying, there was a draft coming through it. Chicago in the winter was a very brutal place. I threw a couple of logs in the fireplace, that hole was really killing my vibe. I’d tried to conceal it the best way I could, but there was no covering it up.

  I’d thought I was going to have enough money left over from the ten grand to get someone back out here to work on it, but after I pay our back rent for the apartment and Jessie’s tuition, there won’t be much left.

  I was just going to have to find another way. Maybe I can try and take out a small loan. I’d taken out one to get this place fixed up when I’d first gotten it and after two years, have almost paid it back in full. Of course, my payment was well overdue at this point, in fact, the bank’s letters have begun to pile up on my junky desk in the back with the rest of my bills.

  I shook my head…I was going to have to find another way.

  As I walked around the shop turning on the display lights that I have highlighting my beautiful mahogany wood shelves, the phone on the wall rang. I smiled because I already knew who it was.

  “Why aren’t you in school?” I asked as soon as I picked it up.

  “My mama and her friend still sleep.”

  I rolled my eyes. Goodness, I wish I could just take my niece from her trifling parents. I asked Trina, who is my niece’s mother if I could adopt her years ago, but of course, she angrily said no. My niece is nothing but a check to her.

  “You still coming to pick me up Friday?”

  "Of course, Flower Bud. Don't I come to pick you up every Friday?"

  I could hear the phone move from where she nodded. “I just don’t want you to forget me.”

  Tears came to my eyes. Dear God, give me strength. “Baby, your Tee-Tee ain’t gon’ never forget you, you hear me?”

  The phone rustled from where her hair beads rubbed against it as she nodded. I took her to get her hair braided every time I got mine done. I liked going to that braid shop because they braided our real hair just as good as they did when adding hair. Neither Jessie or I needed to add hair because our natural hair was thick and long.

  “Do Tee-Tee a favor and go wake your mother up and tell her you need to get to school. Are you dressed?”

  Her beads rubbed against the phone as she nodded.

  “Did you take a shower and brush your teeth.”

  “Yeah! I used that toothpaste you got me that taste like bubble gum!” In her excitement, she screamed that at me.

  “Jessie, you didn’t eat the toothpaste, did you?”

  “Only a little bit, but I didn’t mean to…”

  I smiled. When I first got her the toothpaste, I had to explain to her that although it tastes like bubble gum, toothpaste was not good to ingest because of the fluoride in it.

  “Alright, Flower Bud, go wake your mama up. And don’t forget to call me when you get in from school.”

  I had her call me every day when she got in because a few times, Trina had forgotten to pick her up from school. I gave the school my number so that they could call me when that happens. I shook my head as I finished getting the shop ready for opening.

  I have begged my brother to file for custody. If he gets custody, then I can take care of Jessie. I’m the one taking care of her anyway. But he refuses. He says Trina ain’t that bad and Jessie needs her mama. The only reason why I haven’t called the Department of Children and Family Services on her is because… maybe he’s right.

  My mama gave me up when I was very young. And I often think I would have liked if she would have kept me. I could have survived her drug habit or whatever, just as long as I was with her. It would have been a far better life than the one I had in the three foster homes I ended up in.

  There was a knock on the door. I looked up and smiled when I saw the young man with my daily boxes of baked goods. Because I was no baker, I'd worked out a deal with the bakery around the corner. Every morning they dropped me off a variety of pastries.

  While he arranged them in the glass display case, I prepared the daily tea for his aunt, who owned the bakery. Before she started drinking my teas, she suffered from arthritis. Years of rolling dough had been the culprit.

  The medicine the doctors prescribed for her had terrible side effects. I made her a tea with grounded up turmeric and ginger, I added a few other things to it, but the turmeric and ginger were the true powerhouses. After a week of drinking my tea, she was able to straighten her fingers after not being able to straighten them in years.

  She was so thankful that she gave me several boxes full of bake goods every morning at only half the price she charged her other customers, but only if I continue to make her tea.

  After I paid him for the pastries, he handed me a receipt. I took it back to my little office and threw it in the drawer with my many other receipts. Maybe I’ll finally get around to arranging them today...

  Ha!!! Every morning I told myself the same lie, knowing very well I was not going anywhere near that receipt drawer.

  As soon as I turned the closed sign to open, my day got to rolling and didn’t stop till I served my last customer at seven that evening. I really could not understand why I was struggling for cash although the tea shop did such good business. I probably should talk to someone about it and see if they could help me figure it out.

  After cleaning up everything, I put the left-over pastries in a few bags. On my way to the bus, I walked past the soup kitchen and gave them to Minnie, who ran the kitchen so that she could give them out to whoever wanted them.

  As soon as the bus got close to my stop, I started straining my neck to see if that black Hummer was sitting outside. When I didn’t see it, I exhaled, only… I didn’t know if it was from relief or disappointment.

  Although Hitta was not my type…not even close, it still did something to my insides to know that I’d somehow caught the eye of a man like him. He seemed like the type that would be attracted to the kind of girls like the one who was working at his register yesterday.

  She was the kind of beauty you turned on the television and saw, the kind of girl like the Kardashians, who had nice clothes, hair and nails always done up…probably wore expensive high heels. I was the complete opposite of that.

  I wore my hair in braids that fell to my butt. As you know most times, I wore baggy clothes because thanks to Stan and his exploring fingers, I was very self-conscious about showing off my f
igure in any way.

  My idea of a good time was grabbing a good book and lying flat on the grass at the park and reading it. A great time would be if the sky was clear and a gentle breeze was blowing. Several times, I’d done just that at the park around the corner from the tea shop and ended up falling asleep.

  Hitta’s idea of fun was going to the latest night club where everybody worshipped the ground he walked on, at least according to Tasha, the girl who lives across the hall from me. Several times, she and I have ended up in the basement doing our laundry at the same time and in those short visits, she’d managed to fill me in on most of the neighborhood gossip, including the fact that Hitta and his crew were very dangerous, just as I had figured.

  Tasha told me story after story of people that had come up dead after having a run-in with him, people who placed bets on a fight and couldn’t pay. She said it was no secret that Hitta was a well-known killer, who had managed to become a famous boxer for a little while.

  According to Tasha, other fighters were afraid to fight him, not just because he was the champion…but because he had taken his street ways to the big leagues with him. As I stepped off the bus, I decided that it was relief I felt at not seeing his Hummer across the street tonight. I had no business even thinking about a man like that.

  “Hey, baby girl.” The sound of my mother’s voice brought me up short. She was sitting waiting for me on my porch.

  I exhaled…so glad I’d stopped by the apartment management office and dropped off the rent check.

  “Hey, ma…”

  She stood from the steps to give me a hug. I held my breath because she reeked of alcohol and body odor. Her thin body shook so badly it felt like she was going to fall over.

  “Where have you been?” I asked as I sat on the porch. There was no way I was inviting her upstairs. My mom had stolen from me so many times it wasn’t funny.

  She sat back on the porch next to me. “Them bastards threw me in jail.”