Tea & Crosswords - a short story

Tea & Crosswords

"It isn't hot today," she says, looking up expectantly.
Caught in a crossword puzzle in a long-across clue for "electronic inquiry about fabric" I look up and pause, running the clue through and around.

Fabric.
Electronic inquiry?
A message about fabric.
Electronic fabric?
No. Electronic message. 
Text. Text message. 

Message works. Text works, but there are blanks in between. That's not right. I frown.
"No, it isn't hot today," I agree. "Rained last night. Quite a storm. Banged about, but blew out fast."
She looks at me, pleasantly. I purse my lips, and having nothing further to contribute, look back to my puzzle.

Email message.

What does that have to do with fabric?

Inquiry.
A question. 
A question about fabric. 
Types of fabrics: satin, tweed, suede, linen, cotton...
Cotton. Caught in a storm.

I look up. Chilly from the storm. She sits, watching me work it out, saying nothing. I clear my throat. "Are you chilly? I could make tea, or bring you a blanket?" She smiles, so I hop to my feet and fill a kettle at the tap, setting it to boil with the click-click-WHOOSH of a gas stove that has equally fascinated and terrified me since childhood.

Electronic inquiry.
Electronic message.
A question.
An inquiry. 
Fabric. Questionable fabric?
What would questionable fabric be? 
Radioactive rayon? Psychedelic polyester? Viscous velveteen?

I walk to her arm chair, and ancient beast of a thing in a dusty rose, the arms worn down to the cross-hatch from decades of use. An afghan that she herself undoubtedly crocheted drapes over the back.

Jersey? Knit? What is worsted weight anyway?
It was the best of times, it was the worsted of times...

I drape the afghan over her shoulders and tuck her into it. One of her hands comes up to pat mine, resting on her shoulder. "Thank you dear." Her hand is soft, but also papery - an odd combination of fleshy and also dry, as though the years had worn thin the toughness and left only tenderness. I hesitate a moment, but the slithery hiss of the building teakettle summons me.

"One moment and I'll have your tea."

For better or worsted, for richer, for poorer.

"Chamomile or peppermint?" I call out as I pull the insistently screeching kettle from the flames, dialing them down from orange to blue until they wink out.

"Chamomile, I think. With honey." Comes the reply, muffled a bit through the clinking of cups from the cupboard and retrieval of teaspoons from the drawer.

Inquiring minds. Questions on fabric.

"Careful, it's still steeping." I warn as I set it in front of her. Her hands emerge to cup it as steam curls lazily in curlicues and the hot water deepens from light gold to bright amber. I look down at my crossword while waiting for my tea, idly stirring as my teaspoon clinks softly against the porcelain.

Three blank boxes in the middle glare back at me from the center of the word. An "electronic inquiry about fabric." I glance to the down clues against my usually strict self-imposed code of doing all the across clues first before starting the downs, which I always suspect are the easier ones. Though I cannot actually prove this theory as the letters from the across clues already in place fill in the words like letters spun into place in Wheel of Fortune. None of the down clues for those three blank boxes give any hints, and unwilling to tackle a new line, I persist. Text fits. Blank, blank, blank. Message fits. Textual. Textile?

"Thank you dear." She says, delayed, a slow response. Jolted from my thoughts I glance up. She takes a tentative sip of tea.

Three blanks. Three squares. Three mysteries. Three magic beans.

Textile seems so likely, but it isn't right.

Fabric.
Texture.
TEXTURE MESSAGE!

I fill in the blanks with satisfaction as the answer falls into place, smiling to myself and utterly neglecting my cooling tea.

"It isn't hot today, is it?" She asks me.

My heart suddenly throbs in pain as I look into her earnest face, the eyes milked with cataracts and papery hands poking out from the cloak of her afghan. I put up my pen and puzzle book, and reach for those hands.

"No Grandma, it isn't very hot today."


Dedicated to my Grandma and my mother, who cares for everyone's grandmas.

*Thank you to Newsday 4/13/14 puzzle "It's all Yours: Listen For it" by Charles M. Deber, edited by Stanley Newman and dist. by Creators Syndicate Inc.