Slice the tape, then open the box that has the address and the name you are familiar with, the lite fragrance is flowing around you. Moving your tongue to push against the edge of your door tooth to get a sense of numbness is the way to remind yourself of something that you may never forget.
The first lesson on tea drinking you received was from your father at a store in a modest mall where he was shopping for some loose-leaf tea and a teapot, you were 6, and you remember the smell once you pulled the heavy glass door, the wave of warm air from the amber-colored liquid in the small but fine cup, and your numb tongue. You started tapping the delicate tea equipment around the store with your index finger after you got the permission, and you didn’t care much about the conversation between your father-a patron (who always asked for something new to try before buying) and the store manager (who always offered new product tasting). At the age of 18, you dated A, and using the first letter of the Alphabet was your English way to show your audiences that was your first relationship, and it was the beginning of everything. People who started dating earlier than you liked to share their experience during lunch, in which people liked to prove, by words, that they were better than others. You listened to those so-called love stories, which the essence was one-sided stories, before you created one yourself. It was like two tongues were dancing together in a shared space was something you remember from the narrator who was sitting next to you. Years later, you’re trying to mock the narrator’s words, the stress, and the break but you don’t know how and where to start. Standing in front of your needed-to-be-wiped mirror, you thought about dance and tongues and occasionally sticked your tongue out until your parent knocked the door and informed you dinner was ready. Nothing needs to be over polished: your story started with A commented on your social media profile photo in which you were wearing your red hairband, and you replied to him, then it turned to be more comments and replies, then it became conversations through private message, then you both had each other’s phone numbers that have been blocked since the relationship was over. But, before anything serious happened, and before you guys hung out at the abandoned park where he kissed you, or you kissed him, you stood in front of your needed-to-be-wiped mirror again, pushing all your hair back before securing it by the red hairband, and tried to make a connection between cute and date. You remember the hairband was very tight, and it rubbed against your ears. You remember you eventually cleaned your mirror with the scented disinfecting wipe, but you forgot how many times your father told you to.
Here, you are 6-year-old again, your father called your name when it was time to try some tea. You hit your knee on the solid wood table when you were trotting to your chair. You saw your father frown, and be careful, watch where you are going were what he said, or what you remembered. You didn’t know A’s parents; you didn’t know A’s friends; you didn’t know if he liked drinking tea. A didn’t know your parents, your friends, or what kind of tea you liked. Now you’re wondering did he want to know? Did you want to know? You heard the mild sound of water hit the fine bone china and water penetrated water, and you watched the clear amber-colored surface rise. When the water edge arrived at a certain level, your father’s right hand uplifted, then put the teapot aside: inside the store became quiet. You couldn’t wait to grab the cup that your father said it was yours, and you didn’t let your father finish his words, be careful, it’s hot before the tea hurt your tongue and you made a mess. You heard so many stories; you drafted so many stories; you saw so many pairs of puffy eyes; your eyes became puffy for so many times. Stay away from the people who hurt you, your father said while putting his shoes on and getting ready to give you a ride to school. You felt the frozen cold penetrate your eye, your face, and you wondered if you should bring the ice pack with you. Take your time. No need to rush, this time you waited for your father to finish what he wanted to say before asking for some paper towel to clean up the mess on the table and on your shirt. 26, you like to say not my cup of tea after people ask you a question that starts with a why and is about somewhere or someone you are no longer associate with or belong to. It’s a slang you learned after you moved away from your home, your parents and the tea equipment that was made of fine china. You didn’t continue drinking what was left in your cup, instead, you watched your father curl his lips and blew mild air on his cup of tea with his head lightly swinging. His lips touched the brim when the temperature was appropriate, and his wrist slightly tipped. While watching your father drink the tea, you couldn’t stop fiddling your tongue by your hand to relief the numbness-at least you thought it would help. You forgot how long it took the numbness completely go away, but you reminded yourself of that whenever you were in a rush to do something or head somewhere. On your 27th birthday, you had a video call with your parents, the same as you did on your 26th birthday, and of course your father asked you if you found a method to buy tea. The loose-leaf ones, not those cheap tea bags, he emphasized, try them before purchasing. You kept nodding your head even though you rarely purchased any loose-leaf tea, and you have already got used to those cheap tea bags. After hanging up the call, you received a message from your parents, and they asked your current address. You forgot how many dates you and A had, probably not many, but when you once again in the abandoned park wearing the red hairband, you asked A if he had ever kissed or tongue kissed someone, and he said no and no; he asked you the same questions, and you had the same answers. Then, several sentences were spoken between you two as foreshadowing, which led to an agreement or an excitement. When the four pieces of lips interacted with each other, you started shivering. But before you could make a connection between dance and tongues, you felt a hand climbed on the top of your head, and slowly, your hair was getting looser and looser. You stopped shivering at the moment you were band-free: nothing was there to rub against your ears.
