JUNE 21, 2023 – (Cont.) The next day, I remember, Cyril waxed eloquent and humorous about the notion of reading tea leaves. He claimed that he had even “gone to school” to learn the secret art of reading tea leaves, and with a hearty laugh as he drew on his pipe, he said that if we were interested, he would arrange to read our tea leaves.
Until we were 21, Mother would be quite adamant about my sisters and me not consuming tea or coffee (let alone alcohol), claiming that these deleterious beverages would stunt our growth if we imbibed before we were full-fledged adults. However, on the occasion of Cyril reading our tea leaves, she made a big exception. She prepared the water, and one-by-one for each of us (I can’t remember just who was present for the occasion, except Mother, Derwyn and I, but there were others, probably my sisters), Cyril measured out tea into a metal strainer and bobbed it in a teacup. The tea itself tasted rather bitter, and I sipped mine with a degree of trepidation, though Mother assured me that one cup of tea by itself was insufficient to stunt my growth.
When my tea was gone, Cyril opened the strainer and dumped the tea leaves into the cup. He then tapped the sides, turned the cup to allow in more light, and studied the inside of the porcelain vessel for a minute or two.
“Aha!” Cyril finally let out a cry of satisfaction, struck by a great revelation on the bottom of the teacup. “It’s coming into view now,” he said, as he moved close beside me. “See there in the middle? There is a beautiful woman wearing a large hat and skirt and carrying a large package.” He handed the cup to me so I could peer in and see the beautiful, gift-bearing woman. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smile, then wink, at Mother.
Cyril’s power of suggestion was convincing and fired my imagination. Indeed, there in the bottom of the cup was the silhouette of an elegant woman, with a large-brimmed hat, skirt flowing behind her and a large box in her arms. I imagined that it must be Mother, or rather, that Cyril wanted it to be Mother, which made me feel uncomfortable, so I decided it was a woman other than Mother.
“Yes, yes, I see it!” I said.
“Good,” said Cyril taking back the cup for further interpretation. “I can’t quite tell if she’s walking toward us or away from us. Let me see.” He tilted the cup toward the light. “No,” he continued, “she’s definitely walking toward us, from east to west and there is something very special in the package. What it is, I can’t see or predict, but she is carrying something very important. Maybe it’s just her suitcase. I think we will just have to wait to find out.”
Sensing that Cyril carried special powers, I spent the rest of the day wondering just what portent was in those tea leaves. (Cont.)
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
