Eterni-Tea

“Wakey-wakey!”

With no small effort I blinked my eyes open. What I saw was somehow both comforting and disturbing.

“There you are, dear. So glad you finally made it. Now, how about a nice cuppa?”

She was elderly, but not old; fit, but not trim; familiar, but a stranger. She wore a plain cotton dress with a floral apron and sensible shoes. She was filling the copper kettle from the old farm-style sink. The kitchen was bright and cozy. I hate cozy.

“Oh, no. Thanks, but no. I won’t be staying.”

“Mmm-hmm. A nice cup of tea will set you straight.” She set the pot on the stove and clicked on the flame.

“No, really. I’ve gotta go.”

“I’m afraid not, dear.”

That irked me, and I let it show. “What’s that supposed to mean? And who the hell are you, anyway!? And where the hell am I!?”

She covered a shy smile with her hand, and then, by god, winked at me. Somehow, the water was already boiling and she poured a steaming splash into a cheesy china cup on a saucer, both painted with pink wild roses. She placed the tea on the table and sat across from me. “Have a sip, then, luv. Nothing like hot tea to bring a bit of order to a difficult day.”

“I’m not having a difficult day! Or at least I wasn’t until you showed up!”

“That’s the spirit, dear. No need to dwell in the past. Face forward is always best. Now, how’s that tea?”

I pushed the cup away. “You can take your tea and shove it, lady! Seriously! Who are you? And where am I?”

“Oh, my. Were you serious? I thought you knew. You’re in heaven, dearie. I’m God.”

I pressed my lips tight and stared at her for a full twenty seconds. “No. You’re not.”

“’Fraid so, luv. Why? Were you expecting someone else? Charlton Heston?”

“Oh, great! So now God’s a smartass! Well, you’re not God, and there’s no way on earth this is heaven! At least not my heaven!”

“Yes, preconceived notions can lead to disappointment, but I assure you, dear, this is all there is.”

“Yeah? Then you can keep it! I’m outta here!”

I shoved back from the table, rattling the cup and saucer, and spilling some tea. I lurched to my feet and stomped over to the nearest doorway. I yanked the door open and stepped out of the kitchen and… into the kitchen. There was the old lady in her flowered apron. There was my spilled cup of tea. And across the room was an open door, and there was I, stepping through the doorway. I turned and looked back over my shoulder, and there was an open door. In that doorway, turned and looking over his shoulder, was also me. I slowly closed the door, and I heard the door behind me click into place. I focused my eyes on her. “What if I went through the door,” I said slowly. “Where would I be?”

“You’d be right here.”

“And what if I go through that door? Then where?”

“Here, of course. I told you. This is all there is. This is heaven.”

“But I hate it here.”

“Well, never mind. You’ll soon get over that. A nice cup of tea will set you right.”

“But I hate tea.” I lifted the cup and sniffed. “And it’s herbal! Chamomile! I really hate chamomile!”

“Yes, but have a sip or two anyway and things are bound to brighten up.”

Then it occurred to me. If this really were heaven, then all my dreams would come true. Maybe all I had to do was sip the tea! I closed my eyes, wished for whiskey, and took a big gulp. I burned my tongue.

“Damn! That’s really hot! And it’s still chamomile! I hate chamomile!”

“Sorry, dear, but you’ll soon learn to like it. After all, that’s all there is.”

“Okay, wait. So that’s the only kind of tea there is, but can I have wine with dinner? Or even just a beer?”

“Dinner?” She looked confused and my heart sank.

“What about breakfast? Or lunch? Or cookies with the tea?”

“Oh, my. Didn’t I say? Here, it’s always teatime, and chamomile tea is all there is.”

I sprang to my feet and sprinted to the door. I yanked it open and ran through, entering the room I had just left. I ran across that room and through the door on the far wall, and did the same in the next room, and then the next. In that room I snatched up the cup of tea and poured it down the sink. In the next room the old lady, which is to say God, was shaking her head. In the next she was standing up, and in the next she was pouring a new cup of tea. In the next room I stopped running and, breathing hard and sweating, I sat down in my seat, my steaming cup of tea right back in front of me.

“But I hate chamomile tea,” I whimpered.

“Well, never mind. You’ll soon learn to like it.”

“And I hate this place.”

“Just give it time, luv.”

“And I hate you.”

“Can’t be helped, really. I am the one and only God. There is no God besides me, as the feller said.” God smiled sweetly and patted my hand. “Give it time, dear. We’ll soon get on like a house afire! You just wait and see.”

“How long?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How long? How long ’til I move on to the next level? Or go back? How long ’til I’m reincarnated? It doesn’t have to be a person. I’ll take a dog or a cat! Hell, I’ll take a bug! A worm! Anything is better than here!”

She smiled so sweetly it made me want to hit her with a brick. “See, that’s where you have a misunderstanding, dear. There is no where else for you. No levels, no cats, no dogs. Just here. Only here.”

“How long,” I whispered one more time.

“Well, this is your eternal life, luv, so… eternally. Always. Forevermore. But not to worry! I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them, and then did it again. “I think I’m about to lose my mind,” I said.

“Well, alrighty, then. Best to do it and have done with it. There’ll be plenty of time for tea when you’re through.”

With that I opened my mouth and began to scream a scream that may have lasted eons. Or not. It’s all the same here. When I was finished, I was still seated at the table and God still sat across from me, her hands folded patiently in her lap.

“All done, then, are we? Now, how about a cuppa? Nothing like a nice, hot cup of tea to get you sorted.”