METAMORPHOSIS

It was not unusual to find her crying. Charlotte had invited me over for tea and crumpets. She loves these mealy things she bakes and thinks I love them too. Often I crumble mine into nothingness or linger so long my tea is cold. My friend never seems to notice, doesn’t chide me, never bakes anything else.

My purring, lilting ‘Hi, Charlotte, ‘ was acknowledged by her blowing her nose into the paper napkin sitting beside her crumpet plate. My stomach churned a little as I handed her my napkin. ‘Is your wonderful English tea still brewing?’ I asked. Without a word, Charlotte stood, poured her perfect tea thru a silver strainer. This time it was flavored ever so lightly with strawberries,

Knowing my friend was chomping at the bit, I could delay no longer.’So, what’s wrong, Kiddo?’ Sobbing again, her words were difficult to make out. ‘What? What did you just say?’ ‘He’s packed! He’s gone! Except for you I have nobody. How’s that grab you?’ Pain tore her to pieces. Her shoulders shook. Her breathing was rapid and irregular. Tears and rage changed her into a wild tiger. The person I have known for 20 years suddenly became a stranger.

When she smacked me in the face, kicked me in the shins, my first reaction was shock. My second was to smack her back and I punched her, as hard as I could, right in her belly. She buckled and fell flat on the floor. A little blood came out of her nose, ran onto her lips. It must have tasted foul as she grimaced. My shin surely was bruised. Charlotte might throw up her next meal after the wallop I gave her stomach. I watched as she gritted her teeth, squinted her eyes and I feared she would have another go at me. Instead, she laughed, laughed so hard, she peed in her panties. That made me laugh even harder but I controlled my bladder.

‘Want another cup of tea, Flo?’ She never calls me Flo but that didn’t matter. I took the tea and was able to tell her a secret. ‘Charlotte, let that man go. He is no good and you have known it a long time. If there was ever a philanderer, your husband has it written on his forehead. Hold on. Don’t hit me again. Jake has made passes at me almost weekly. I kid with him, never, never took him seriously but other ladies have and still do. Don’t ask me names. All you can do is call a locksmith, change all the locks, empty his check book, fast, call your cousin Rob, the divorce lawyer. Just don’t take him back.

And if you hit me one more time, you won’t have me and you will really be alone. And here’s another item I have on my agenda, as soon as you calm down, please bake something else besides those crumpets of yours, something like a chocolate layer cake, knock on our wall, and we’ll have tea together.’

Two nights later Charlotte invited me over to try her 4 layer double Dutch chocolate cake. Her strong, perfect English tea brewed in a china pot. Jake sat between us. I didn’t mean to stare but the new 4 carat marquis diamond on Charlotte’s right index finger was enough to chase her blues away and I didn’t have to buy boxing gloves for my next visit.