It was the last day of that first week we spent together; that first spring break in the San Francisco dome, and Delanna and I had grown close. It almost felt like we had already been together for years.
Delanna wanted our last day together to be special, as if the other days hadn't been already, so she took me out for tea. In my family, and really on Luna in general, we did not take tea, but I didn't know if that was something that was normal for Martians or not. I did my best to play along, but I felt about as out of place in a tea house as I could anywhere.
The tea shop was in an old, small storefront across from Golden Gate Park; the slightly faded awning on the outside read simply read “Tea Parlour” in the center and had the physical and datastream addresses at either end of it
“This is The Secret Window,” Delanna told me as she led me along the sidewalk towards the store, “This place has been in operation for hundreds of years.”
“Wow,” I said dumbly.
“My mom took me here, and her mom took her, and her mom took her.”
“So am I supposed to be the substitute for your daughter then?”
Delanna chuckled, “No, but I always come here whenever I visit Earth, and I thought it would be fun to take you.”
She never told me this, even the her in my head won't admit to it, but I am still sure that she just wanted to see me squirm in an unfamiliar situation. She was the nicest woman I have ever known, but she had... well, not a mean streak, but certainly a mischievous one.
The glass, and I mean real glass, not plastiglas, door creaked as Delanna pulled it open and we went in. The smell of jasmine hit my like a punch in the nose; the air absolutely reeked of it. It's not that it was a bad smell, but for a Lunar kid used to nearly odorless colony air, it was a shock.
The look of the place was very... girly, I guess. It looked like they had spent a lot of money to make it look like they hadn't spent a lot of money. Everything looked very old, and I am sure that most of it really was.
“Good afternoon, Miss Troy,” the hostess greeted us; she wore tinted glasses that obscured her eyes, “Just the two of you today?”
“Yes, Marabel.”
“Very good,” the young woman in the frilly black and white dress said with a nod. When she tilted her head forward, I could see the glint of her tech-enhanced eyes around the lenses of her glasses, and a cable running from behind her ear to the datapod that she had hidden somewhere in her outfit. I guess that making her tech too obvious would ruin some of the effect of the place, “Your table will be ready momentarily.”
Marabel disappeared through an archway, leaving us in the shop's front room. Delanna looked right at home as she wandered about, looking at the antique wood shelves and hutches and their inventory of teacups, tea pots, tea tins, and a number of other things tea-related.
I stood near the door. I must have looked alarmed, because Delanna suddenly turned to me and said, “This isn't a museum, Zane. You are allowed to move about and touch things.”
“I don't think I could afford to.”
“Don't be silly,” she chuckled while grinning wickedly, “I'll cover anything you break.”
Thankfully Marabel returned at that point to lead us to our table at the back of the shop. The table was set into a smallish alcove with walls covered in black and white pictures, and shelves full of antiques.
The table itself was obscured with a large pink lace table cloth which itself was largely obscured by the sheer number of lace doilies on it. At the center of the table was a silver serving tower loaded down with pastries and sandwiches. I couldn't have identified most of the things on it at the time, but I could smell them over the scent of jasmine that permeated the shop, and they smelled delicious.
The serving tower was flanked by a pair of matching teapots, each white with roses painted on them. There were plates, cups, and golden utensils in front of both chairs. It all looked so fancy and delicate that I was afraid to go near it.
Marabel pulled out Delanna's chair for her, and then, once my companion had seated herself, did the same for me. I thanked her, and with a small bow she left us alone.
“So do we say grace or something first?” I asked, “Or do we have to give thanks or something?”
“It's just tea, Zane, not Christmas dinner. You may pour though,” she said, motioning to the tea pots.
I started to reach for the one closest to me, and then stopped, “Umm, which one do you want?”
“It doesn't matter, they'll both be good.”
I poured her tea, and passed her the small china sugar bowl and creamer (real cream, real sugar) with the lid to the sugar bowl only rattling a little bit as I tried to handle it carefully. She didn't say anything, but her smile told me that she had noticed.
“Try one of those,” Delanna said, pointing to a biscuit-looking item, “with some of that on it,” she pointed to a small china pot of yellow gel with a spoon poking out of it.
I took one of the scones (I know what this stuff is now, and if I didn't, Delanna is always here to remind me), and spooned some of the yellow stuff onto it. It smelled good enough, so I took a bite, and my mouth was flooded with the taste of lemon curd.
“Good, huh?”
“Very.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Finish eating?” I asked.
She smiled again, “Yes, but I meant in the longer sense. We go our separate ways tomorrow, but I'm not ready to let you out of my life just yet.”
“You could move to Luna,” I said, half joking.
“I do not think father would approve of that.”
“I do not think your father would approve of you socializing with me.”
“Father will have to get over that,” she appeared thoughtful for a moment, “I suppose we will just have to remain in contact through the stream until we are finished with school then; I could come visit you during the holidays, or you could come to me.”
“Do you think we can really do that?”
“You're worth it, or am I wrong in thinking that?”
“Well, ummm.”
“And I can guarantee you that I'm worth it.”
“You're not like other women,” I said.
“And that's why I'm worth it. I don't play games; if I want something, I get it.”
I started to say something smart about being a rich girl from Mars, and then bit my tongue. It didn't matter though, because she either read it on my face, or she was used to this reaction from non-Martians.
“I know, you think that's because I'm a spoiled little princess, but that's not it. I get what I want because I don't stop until I do.”
“And you want me?”
“I feel a certain connection, yes. Don't you?”
“Well, yeah, but-”
“Okay then, so it's settled. You and I are an item and we will make this work,” she held out her teacup to me. It took me a second to figure out why, but then I quickly filled my own cup from the pot, and clinked my cup gently against hers.
One thing about Delanna: she was almost always right (and even when she wasn't, she was). She was definitely worth waiting for, she did generally get what she wanted, and, despite all logic and reason, we did make it work. For a decade there, longer if you count when we were pretty much only together over the datastream, I was the luckiest guy in the universe.
There's a tea shop here on New London called The Chipped Cup. It's obviously not as old as Secret Window, but choices here are limited. The dishes are of the modern, nearly indestructible variety, as is the rest of the decor, and a lot of the food is synthetic, but Delanna still approves of it. So once a year, on the anniversary of that day, I go and immerse myself in the reek of jasmine, pour myself a cup of tea, eat scones with lemon curd, and remember when my soul mate basically told me that we would be together whether I liked it or not.
I wish I could just keep those good memories sometimes.