The Importance of Tea (Part IV)

“Relativitea”

when sisters go wrong

My two sisters and I have a standing coffee date. We work within a block of each other, so on the first Thursday of every month, we converge on the nearest Blenz and spend our lunch break catching up over coffee or tea or …

Last month, I spent a half-hour deciding what I wanted to drink before I got there. I settled on a dark hot chocolate made with almond milk … until I got to the counter. At the last second, I balked and ordered something else.

Big Sister arrived next, put in her order, and joined me with a glass mug (the “for here” option) full of something dark that swirled into tawny as it blended with the cream she’d added. “What did you get?” I asked her.

“An Americano,” she replied. “What about you?”

“Tangerine sencha.”

“Tea?”

I nodded, making a face. “I wanted a dark hot chocolate.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “I wanted a strawberry tea latte.”

At which we nodded, understanding what would mystify onlookers, the inner working of the Greig female mind.

My little sister arrived with her buddy who, despite being male, has been adopted as an honorary sister. He went to order their drinks while Little Sister pulled up a chair next to me. We exchanged greetings, than I asked her what she was having. “An Americano misto,” she said.

“Is that what you wanted?” I asked.

“I wanted a cappuchillo, but it’s too cold for one, and … I don’t know.” Shrugging it off, Little Sister peered into my cup. “What do you have?”

She put the same question to Big Sister, since we like to know what the others are drinking, even if only to make a droll comment about it. We had all ordered something other than what we wanted and lamented (some would call it whining) how we had spent a chunk of time deciding what we wanted only to abandon it in the crunch.

Boy Sister joined the group with a London Fog.

“Is it what you wanted?” I asked.

Though he knows better by now, he gave me a justifiably puzzled look. “Yes.”

“Did you know ahead of time?”

“No,” he said, “I decided at the counter.”

“Ah,” Big Sister mused, nodding sagely at Little Sister and me. “That’s where we went wrong. We over-thought it.” So next time, we’re going in cold.

Typical of us as a family, really, and as sisters especially. One day I’ll explain the non-workings of the Greig Communications Plan (GCP), or how we can all agree to meet at an appointed place and still miss each other.

I love my sibs.