Teatime

Click here to read my latest entry in the Writing Battle.

Genre: drama.

Character: accountant.

Object: bandana.

Word count: 1,000 or less.

I haven’t had a swallow of liquor in thirty years, but I’m a tea addict. There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for herbal chamomile citron, black Darjeeling quince, or even classic Earl Grey tea. I don’t steal or kill for my addiction. I’d never “date” anyone for a tea bag. But if I can’t have booze—and I really can’t—then I’m going to enjoy a decadent cup of tea every chance I get.

After the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting on Tuesdays, I treat myself at Leon’s Delicatessen. I blame Leon for my tea obsession. He introduced me to the art and magic of tea and sobriety three decades ago.

1995

I rounded the corner, looking for a place to escape the cold. The wind snatched the yellow bandana off my head. I chased it until it landed in the doorway of Leon’s Deli. I stuck the bandana next to a bottle of wine in my backpack and entered the door. I had nowhere else to go after my boyfriend kicked me out for falling off the wagon—again.

I slumped on a stool and took the bottle out of my backpack. I’m not sure how much time passed before I rested my head on the sticky deli counter, clutching the nearly empty wine bottle like my life depended on it.

A man roused me from my haze. I tried to focus on his weathered face. “Outside food and beverages aren’t allowed in my establishment,” he said, taking the bottle from me.

I gave him a drunken, drowsy smile sweeter than Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill wine.

“Surely we can work something out,” I mumbled.

“I’m Leon.” He appraised me, smiled, and said, “I’ll be back.”

Leon brought me a teapot of hot water and a beautiful mahogany box full of tea bags from around the world. He sat on the stool beside me and changed my life for the better over a cup of cherry marzipan tea from the tropics. I confessed I had only a dollar, no place to lay my head other than the counter, and no idea how to fix my situation.

“Sounds like you need help,” he said.

I couldn’t return his gaze. I closed my eyes, sipped the soothing, warm liquid, and listened to the raspy drawl of his words. Words of wisdom that sounded like he’d smoked every cigarette in every bar in every little nothing town in Texas.

“Want to join me at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting?” he asked.

For lack of anything better to do that night, I accompanied him to my first AA meeting. I thought I might get a free doughnut out of the deal. It turns out I got much more than that.

2025

Leon was busy talking to a food supplier when I entered the deli. I waved at him and headed to my usual spot at the end of the counter. I couldn’t wait to drink tea with him and eat a hot pastrami sandwich.

It had been a rough day at work. As an accountant, tax season felt like searching for some shade in hell. I had a weak moment at lunch with a client and thought about drinking just a sip of smooth, buttery, white wine. But I knew a sip led to a glass that led to a bottle that led to unspeakable things.

Through AA, I learned that one drink was too many, and one hundred drinks wasn’t enough.

I didn’t indulge, but even after so many sober years, I still kind of—just a little bit—wanted to. I needed Leon to give me one of his “don’t be an idiot” talks. He keeps me grounded and says I do the same for him.

A young woman with lank, greasy hair hanging out from under a dirty bandana sat on the stool I considered mine. Her bandana brought back a misty memory of me staggering after my yellow bandana a lifetime ago.

“Hello,” I said, sitting on the stool next to her.

“Stop staring at me, you freak.”

“Girl, you don’t know the half of it.” I couldn’t suppress a laugh.

She shot me a go-to-hell look and gulped something from a Styrofoam cup—something I suspected was causing more harm than good, more pain than comfort, more insanity than sanity. Smells wafting off her reminded me of waking up hungover, wrapped in a stranger’s grimy sheets, and not being able to locate my bra or car.

Leon sat on the stool to my right. His presence was a balm to my soul. He brought calm, peace, lightness, and optimism. He also brought a teapot, delicate teacups and saucers, and the beautiful mahogany box of tea bags.

“It’s your turn to choose,” he said.

“Oh, I can’t decide.” I sighed and stretched. “It’s been a hard day.”

“What happened? Did two plus two equal five?”

“That never gets funnier,” I said.

Leon chuckled and chose an oolong tea from Thailand. Placing a tea bag in the center of each cup, he poured hot water onto each bag. The tea steeped while we held hands, reciting the Serenity Prayer as we’d done many times before. Thoughts of numbers, spreadsheets, and tax penalties slipped away. We drank fragrant tea and talked about everything and nothing until my stomach growled.

Leon stood to get my sandwich. Before leaving, he gestured to my left. I turned and saw the girl with the dirty bandana and bad attitude nodding off. Her head landed on the counter.

“You got this?” he asked.

I nodded, and he winked at me before walking away. I roused her with some effort. She scowled at my concerned face and reached for the Styrofoam cup. I beat her to it.

“Outside food and beverages aren’t allowed in this establishment,” I said. “Ask me how I know that.”

She said, “Mind your own damn business,” and shot me the middle finger.

“I’m Hillary.” I appraised her, smiled, and said, “Want to join me for some tea?”

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"Teatime" scored four points in the Writing Battle Heart 2025 Flash Fiction Contest. I needed six points to advance. I had a little hissy fit, but then I put my big girl panties on and got on with things. If you're interested in the feedback I received, it's below. Also, if you'd like to leave your own comments, you can do that at the bottom of this page. I appreciate all feedback and constructive criticism. I promise I won't throw another hissy fit.

The following feedback is from your anonymous pro judges during the Swiss Rounds of the tournament. We have intentionally shuffled the order that the feedback is presented.

1.) What I liked about the story: How intriguing to centre a story around tea, especially when comparing a teaholic to an alcoholic. The most brilliant part is making that teaholic a recovering alcoholic. The writing is strong and the writing style is beautiful; the tone fits the story.

What I felt might need work with the story: I love nothing more than to help a fellow writer by giving a little feedback about what could be improved or worked on or tweaked, but there is literally nothing to critique here. Everything was nailed, from the plot and character development, to the descriptions, to the dialogue. Even the mechanics are spot on, so nicely done.

2.) What I liked about the story: You chose intriguing words to describe Leon and tea “He brought calm, peace, lightness, and optimism. He also brought a teapot, delicate teacups and saucers, and the beautiful mahogany box of tea bags.” I like the different time frames, that was very well done. I like your description of accounting, “As an accountant, tax season felt like searching for some shade in hell.” Your character is well developed and I like her point of view. I like Hillary’s interactions with the girl at the end of the story ““Outside food and beverages aren’t allowed in this establishment,” I said. “Ask me how I know that.” She said, “Mind your own damn business,” and shot me the middle finger. “I’m Hillary.” I appraised her, smiled, and said, “Want to join me for some tea?”

What I felt might need work with the story: Very nicely written on a difficult topic , alcoholism. With the recommendations from Health Canada and the U.S., your story is very timely. Great job on your short story.

3.) What I liked about the story: This is charming. I love how it comes full circle, with her being the one to help someone else, and Leon still being there. The talk about “Ask me how I know” is great. There’s a lot of good dialogue, and some great descriptions, like “no place to lay my head other than the counter.” And I wondered early on why Leon waited so long to take the wine bottle from her, but it makes sense now that I’ve read the whole thing. It’s got to be the right time for the drunk to listen.

What I felt might need work with the story: Near the end, it’s not immediately clear whether Leon brings tea for just the two of them, or for the girl too. I wasn’t sure what the girl was doing while they talked. You could clear that all up by saying he brought two teacups, and maybe mentioning the girl deliberately ignoring them. I’m sure that looking interested in these strangers being happy is the last thing she wants to do right now.