by Jeremy Finn
“Oh, it’s you again?” The French woman acknowledged from behind the tea serving counter as she shelved tins of tea.
“Yeah,” Jonathan replied casually. “I need to get going to the next town, but I couldn’t resist dropping by for a few more teas. I really enjoyed the ones Ellie sold me yesterday evening.”
“Well, I’m very glad to hear it,” she said with a smile. “What kind of teas do you think you would be interested in? Which ones did you enjoy last night?”
“Well,” Jonathan debated how to put this, “the more exotic, the better, if you know what I mean.”
The owner tilted her head and gave him an odd look. “Do you mean from exotic locations or some of our more costly teas?
“Yes, exotic locations,” Jonathan confirmed. “Have you ever had some of your tea and been transported to another place?”
She gave him a stranger look and glanced out the window as if to see how alone the two of them were. Was she worried about his sanity? But he couldn’t be the only one to experience these trips.
“Oh, you mean like closing your eyes and feeling like you are pulled away from this world, right?” She said with sudden understanding. “Tea does have a calming effect and can take away some of the daily stress.”
“Right, but like really being somewhere else,” Jonathan pressed.
She just returned to her concerned expression and shook her head. “Look, if you want to try something unusual, we have a few puer teas back here. They are very different from our usual line and are quite valued among connoisseurs.”
Suddenly an idea came to Jonathan. “Are they expensive?”
“Yes, quite expensive depending on the type. They come in large cakes and you break off a small piece at a time to steep.”
“I’ll take your most expensive one,” Jonathan decided.
The woman giggled politely, “Maybe one of the others. Our most expensive is five thousand dollars for the cake.”
Jonathan was surprised, but did not hesitate. The high cost was actually good news for the plan he was hatching. “I’ll take one,” he said while fishing for his credit card.
“Are you sure?” the woman asked with wide eyes. “You may not like it. It often takes years for veteran tea drinkers to grow a true appreciation for it. I would make you a sample cup, but once I break a cake, it loses its value.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll take it. I’m sure,” Jonathan confirmed.
The surprised storeowner disappeared in the back and reemerged with a flat round disk about the size of a large pancake. It was light and wrapped in a brown paper cover stamped with red ink Chinese markings. Jonathan dropped his card without hesitation and thanked the woman as he hurried out of the shop. He made a beeline for the nearby coffee shop and ordered a cup of hot water. Then, he scurried over to a cushioned chair in the corner and broke off a little chunk of the luxurious tea to brew. After an impatient five minutes, he sipped the dark brown liquid and crossed his fingers hopefully. It tasted like dirt – like freshly turned soil. This was not a pleasant sensation and Jonathan wondered why anyone would pay such a price for such a vile beverage. Soon, the bright interior of the coffee shop slowly transformed into a vast tea field spreading under an overcast sky.
At first, he could not see much else. There was an old cart farther down one of the paths and a huddle of ramshackle buildings in the distance. He jogged toward the buildings hopeful to find his goal – the valuable disks of vile tea. He was delighted to find hundreds of them stacked within one of the sheds. They appeared to be freshly harvested, and Jonathan giggled with glee at the thought of how much wealth they would bring him. He began shuttling them to the corner of an abandoned barn where he planned to wait out the remaining time until he could return to the coffee shop with armfuls of costly tea. True, he was in effect stealing, but technically, it had already happened and who was going to penalize him anyways? Who would think to track him down on the other side of the world?
As he was completing his last run to the barn, a Chinese voice called out from across the yard. Jonathan cringed and turned expecting to find the disgruntled plantation owner approaching. Instead, a youth in a disheveled uniform was walking aggressively toward him with a pistol pointed at Jonathan’s head. He was trailed by a group of other teenage boys and girls carrying pitchforks and scythes.
Jonathan dropped the tea cakes in his hands and ran. Just as he rounded the barn, though, a boy with a club whacked him on the side of the head. Jonathan fell to the ground, the world spinning around him. They dragged him to an open-bed truck nearby chanting “foreign devil” the whole time and tossed him roughly in with a few other frightened adults. After a bumpy ride they arrived at a camp surrounded by barbed wire and unkempt guards. They were handed over to a group of soldiers and beaten mercilessly.
As Jonathan lay on the ground near the fence where his tormentors had left him to stop bleeding and recover if possible, he saw the guard on the other side ruffling through a Chinese newspaper. Jonathan could not read Chinese, but he could see the date at the top. It was May 25th in the year 1967. He knew from his limited experience in studying world history that he was smack dab in the middle of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. Then he realized, like an avalanche crashing down on him, that he never considered the harvesting time of the puer tea. Could it be so old that sipping the evil drink sent him back over forty years? Then the revelation struck him harder – if it was that old, how long was he destined to be trapped here? After some quick math in his head, Jonathan realized he was going to be stuck in this hell for nearly two months.
The weeks passed slowly and were the most dreadful period by far of his life. He likely would have committed suicide if not for his knowledge that before too long he would be sucked out of this mad world and deposited back in the little country town where he had sipped the tea. Since it was the only shred of hope he clung to, he counted the days carefully.
Early in the morning of the day Jonathan believed would be his last in the hellish Chinese period, a chance opportunity arose. It was still dark outside when he got up to use the bathroom. He knew singling himself out by leaving his bed would likely lead to harassment and another beating, but he had developed a bad bout of dysentery and had no choice. As he was scurrying like a scared animal to the filthy outhouses, he noticed the guards were changing and had left the gate open and temporarily unattended as they argued over something within a nearby guardhouse. Knowing his time to return to the present would come at any minute, Jonathan dashed out the gate and disappeared into the nearby woods. He stayed in the cover of the brush for some time until he reached a hilltop from which he could see the tea plantation where he was caught stretching out before him below. The barn where he stashed the tea cakes was on the far side and he would have to expose himself to reach it. He only had to contemplate for a moment, though, because the quiet dawn scene broke with the distant, eerie howl of the camp sirens. They had discovered his absence!
Caution aside, Jonathan dashed down the hillside and ran through a passageway lined with waist-high tea bushes on both sides. No one seemed to be up and about at the plantation, so he made it to the barn undetected, panting and gasping to catch his breath. He threw open the door and froze when an old, wrinkled Chinese man looked up from his work and gawked at the unexpected foreigner. As Jonathan met his eyes, the man’s face began to slowly distort. It’s happening! He realized. I’m being sent back!
Jonathan sprinted to the other end of the dusty barn where he had stashed the tea cakes as the world began to swirl around him. He found the precious little discs tucked in the corner and jumped on them, catching an armful just as the scene became a blur of unrecognizable colors.
When it all fell back into place around him, Jonathan was sitting on a soft chair with the morning sun rolling across his lap. A customer who had just entered the coffee shop hesitated as he caught sight of him then quickly passed by. Jonathan paid him no heed but jumped up, spilling the remaining hot puer on his leg
, and raced out the door. He staggered down the street of the small town ragged and stinking but with a smile on his face.
“Oh my!” the French women exclaimed and recoiled when he burst into the tea shop. “There is a shelter up the street,” she said.
“We don’t offer any handouts here.”
“No!” Jonathan exclaimed with fire in his eyes, “It’s me! Don’t you recognize me? I was just here.”
The proprietor put a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal. “What happened to you? You look terrible. You are just skin and bones!”
“I know,” Jonathan dismissed and continued eagerly. “Look, don’t worry about that. The important thing is I brought some tea for you to look at. It’s that same stuff you sold to me, only I have a lot more and it is quite fresh. Would you like to buy it, or could you tell me where I might be able to sell it? I can offer a pretty good deal.”
The delicate woman slowly reached to accept one of the cakes Jonathan held out to her. She frowned but looked over the paper-wrapped disc closely. Her eyebrows rose but then she broke open a fold of the paper and inspected the tea inside.
“What are you trying to pull here?” she said suspiciously.
“What do you mean?” Jonathan recoiled. “It is genuine. I promise. I got it from China myself.”
“Then I am afraid to say someone must have duped you,” she sighed and handed the cake back to him. “The paper cover has a good date and plantation information, but the tea inside looks like it was picked this year. That tea is probably worth less than twenty dollars a cake and won’t be any good to drink for a few years at best.”
“What do you…?” Jonathan trailed off as the realization came to him. Of course! This wretched puer stuff was valuable because of its age! Since he brought it back from 1967, it was just as fresh as it was the moment he grabbed it in the barn. Cursing, he threw the worthless cakes to the floor of the shop and stormed out. As he stepped into the cobblestone courtyard outside the door, a pain shot through his stomach. I am in terrible physical shape, he thought as he looked down over his emaciated body. There is no way I’m going to be able to work like this. I’ll probably even lose my job. How am I going to explain this to my wife? The thoughts spiraled in on him at a dizzying pace, and for a moment he felt the urge to take his life again. Suddenly, though, Jonathan had an idea. He rushed back into the shop and found the startled woman cleaning the mess he had left on the floor.
“Please, you need to leave,” she demanded, “I will call the police.”
“I will leave,” Jonathan promised, “but just do one thing for me, please. Can you give me a cup of some tea from somewhere around here. You know, something grown locally, and not too old if possible.”
The woman looked confused and anxious. “Tea is not grown in this area. The climate and soil are not right.” Then she looked pensive for a moment and shot him a hopeful look. “Actually, I have been trying to grow my own tea in my greenhouse. It has not been very successful, but I picked and steamed a small batch a few days ago.”
“Please let me try some!” Jonathan pleaded. “I promise I’ll leave and never come back.”
The woman looked distrustful, but nodded her head slowly and retreated back into the storage area. When she returned, she held a cup of light green liquid in her hands. “Now you promised to leave after this, right?”
“Yes,” Jonathan confirmed, “and I’ll never come back.” He took the cup with shaking hands and downed the hot liquid in one pull. It burned his throat, but he didn’t care. Even if it caused damage to his throat, it wouldn’t matter in a few minutes. When the colors stopped swirling and the anxious woman’s face disappeared, Jonathan found himself in a little greenhouse. He carefully slipped out and crept around the house. As he passed the kitchen window, he caught a glimpse of the shopkeeper inside, but was careful not to reveal himself. He walked down to the main street and picked up a newspaper in a convenience store. It was two days before he was due to arrive in town.
Since he had nothing in his pockets, he spent the two days playing the role he now portrayed, panhandling and begging for scraps. It was demeaning, but he didn’t care. He just needed to wait it out and this would all be gone soon enough.
When the day finally came, he sat down on the sidewalk across from the tea shop and waited. He saw the French woman give him a concerned look from the window of her shop, but she didn’t know him. Just a beggar on the street.
As the shadows lengthened and the day grew cooler, Jonathan strolled happily down the street. He passed a little pizza shop that caught his eye, but he was not hungry enough yet to stop for dinner. Suddenly, a stinking, offensive man jumped up in front of him. Jonathan jumped back and instinctively put his hand on his wallet. The man obviously wanted money, but didn’t look like someone prone to violence. As he fished for a dollar from his wallet, the man spoke.
“You cannot go into that tea shop!” he wheezed and then coughed violently.
Jonathan gave him an odd look and offered the dollar bill.
“I don’t want your money, Jonathan!” he bellowed. “I want you to promise me you will not go to that tea shop!”
The use of his name shocked him. How did he know? Then a creeping sensation slowly came over him. This bum looked vaguely like him. Even his voice was like a ghost of his own. Ridiculous, he thought and shook off the idea. “Very well, I’m not going to force money on you.” Jonathan turned to walk around the man blocking his path but he reached out and grabbed him by the arm.
“Promise me you will not go into that tea store!” The disheveled man demanded.
“Ok, ok!” Jonathan conceded. He was curious about the quaint little shop, but if it meant shaking this guy off, he would bypass the place. Not a big deal to him. The man nodded in satisfaction but continued to stare into his eyes. Jonathan felt the beggar’s grip slowly release, but noticed it was not because the man was letting go. Unbelievably, the man’s hand was fading. He looked up into his face and was able to see the bushes behind the man through his hazy visage. He was disappearing - literally melting into the air! Before he could speak, the man was gone. Jonathan was shocked. He looked around to see if anyone else witnessed the oddity, but no one was nearby. It took him a few minutes to come to grips with what had happened, but he finally decided it was some kind of hallucination resulting from the stress of his travels. He turned back up the road to head to his hotel and retire early. He glanced at the tea shop as he passed. It looked inviting and warm, but that primeval superstition he had tried to ignore just moments before drove him on quickly past the shop without even a glance back.
Insight
This story is an amalgamation of one of my favorite spots on earth – Millerton, NY and the surrounding area. It is picturesque, but not phenomenal. However, there is a tea store there, Harney and Sons, which is my favorite. There is also, a short distance away, a rambling stream flowing through a deep forested valley with a trail to follow that culminates in an impressive waterfall. I have many fond memories of trips to taste and buy teas followed by a stroll under the cool canopy of the aged trees. There is history there, great tea and untouched nature – all things I thoroughly enjoy. Hence, I thought I would weave many of my fond memories into a story with a twist. Many of the places and characters are quite close to actual.
THE RED CANDLE
"It's all clear, Mr. President. No one in there," Jin said as he and his partner emerged from the subway bathroom. It was not protocol to use a public bathroom, but although this president was new, Jin was already seeing he was a man of the people. He specifically asked to ride the subway rather than his armored car to get to a public function he was attending. It sent the Korean secret service into a tizzy, but so far everything was working out ok and he could see admiration in the eyes of the public they passed. Lee stood on the left side of the doorway and Jin took the right. Several other agents milled around the doorway waiting to politely redirect anyone attempting to use the men's room, but their mere
presence was enough to discourage any passersby.
"Do you think he's ok?" Lee finally asked after Jin uncomfortably checked his watch for the tenth time.
"I don't know," Jin replied. "Maybe he's not feeling well, you know."
"He seemed fine on the subway," Lee observed. "I didn't hear the toilet flush or anything either."
"Well, it couldn't hurt to check," Jin said and turned to enter the public restroom. He stuck his head around the corner of the tiled wall. "Mr. President, do you need any assistance?" he asked and then winced as he realized how stupid the question sounded. He was trying to decide if he should say anything else to extricate himself from the embarrassing query, then realized he did not receive a reply.
"I'm sorry, Mr. President. Are you ok?"
Lee came in behind him looking inquisitive. He inched forward and stooped to look under the stall walls.
"I don't see his feet!" he exclaimed and rushed to the set of three stalls. "Mr. President, please answer!"
Lee threw open the last stall and Jin checked the other two. Both men panicked when they realized the President was no longer in the bathroom.
"Where could he be?" Lee asked frantically.
"I don't know," Jin panted. No one came in or out of that bathroom door. You know that."
"Well, is there any other way out of here?" Lee asked, although it was clearly apparent there was not and they were at least two stories underground. They gave the room one last sweep and then left to tell their compatriots of the emergency.
An hour later, the station was still buzzing with activity, but now, government agents darted about between the commuters like furious bees. Though they had closed the building for a while, it was rush hour and a prolonged closure would have great impact. Police were interrogating hundreds of people upstairs who were unfortunate enough to be passing through the station when their national leader disappeared.
