Drink the Tea When it's Hot

Flash Fiction off a Mary G. prompt: "A Story in a Compressed Time Frame"

(Tissot/Cassat)

As Mrs. Fisk-Barton droned on across from her, Sarah had a sense of déjà-vu, of herself, 30 years ago, having tea in a restaurant much like this one with a view of a port, the cawing of gulls competing with the gentle cacophony of dockworkers unloading a cargo ship from some far off place. She was wearing her prettiest dress and loveliest hat, she knew because Captain Hugh Lancaster had told her so, and he never lied to her, she was sure of it.

It was a perfect moment, even then she knew. Perfect because the Captain had asked for her hand in marriage, and there was an entire 15 seconds that she could live ecstatically inside that possibility before she was forced to break the spell most brutally. Her father had not given his permission, in a way that was utterly definitive. Her kinder mother had spirited her away so she could at least be allowed to tell Hugh in person, so he could see for himself how heartbroken she was, hear in her voice how desperately she had pleaded. Her father was not heartless, but he saw his daughter as she was. She simply was not a great beauty, and he did not trust that this mere naval officer was after an heiress only for love.

A lifetime had happened since, marriage to Henry — staid, safe, equally rich Henry-- and the Captain became a dream, a memory, the road not taken. She did not regret her choice — what mother regretted her children? But if she could magically go back to that time, to his proposal, she often wondered if she would say yes.

The thought sent a frisson of excitement through her. Yes, she would say yes. All these years insisting to herself that she made the right decision had worn on her. Thinking you would do something differently if you could was not the same thing as regret. There should be a word for it.

Mrs-Fisk Barton startled her out of her reverie. “My dear, I don’t think you’ve heard a word. Where did you go? You haven’t even touched your tea.” Sarah apologized. “I so sorry, Eleanor, how rude of me. Let me pour a fresh cup and I promise I’ll hang on every word.”

As she did, it occurred to her that she would have loved the children she bore the Captain just as much.

MCO 2025