Teacup And Spoon

Diana Comme’s house was not what you expected of a famous author, Teacup reflected to herself as she quietly sat down on a red floor cushion. The house itself was a relatively normal brick and stone construction, although the astonishing purple siding made it stick out like a sore thumb compared to the other houses in the neighborhood. Stepping inside, however, was like entering a cavern of luxurious fabrics, candles, and jewels. The walls were draped with tapestries depicting everything from Celtic Triskelles to medieval Unicorn hunts; those parts of it which were not covered by fabric were instead covered in paper, a hundred posters of movies, animals, pagan symbols, black and white photographs, and whatever else struck the young author’s fancy. Elegant chandeliers and reproduction Calder mobiles hung from the ceiling, spinning slowly. The hardwood floors were covered in thick green and blue carpets, upon which were scattered little islands of low tables and floor cushions, most of which were occupied by cats. Diana had almost forty of the furry creatures, whose names ranged from ‘Vervain’ to ‘Nautilus’ to ‘Applesauce’ to ‘Number 7’, and seemed to be assigned completely at random with no association to any aspect of the cat’s personality or appearance. Teacup, who fit nicely into the decor in her red cocktail dress, blue fishnets, and neon blue giesha-style haircut, adjusted herself into a more comfortable position, and promptly discovered a cat in her lap.

Diana herself entered the room through a beaded curtain along with a swell of African music. She had pulled her green curls back into a sloppy bun and was dressed in a black and silver kimono patterned with dragons and clouds, matching several of the floor cushions. She carried a tea tray into the room and silently set it on the table before Teacup. Neither of them spoke as they poured their tea and added sugar; only after they had both had several sips did Diana set down her cup and ask gently, “What ails you, Teacup, dear?”

This was how Diana started most conversations, regardless of how relevant the question might or might not be.

Teacup did not speak at first. Then, staring into her cup, she sighed and said softly, “You know Mother and Father have been away in Africa, studying the great apes.” Esme and Lawrence Bennett, her parents, were world renowned primatologists. Teacup went on, her false British accent growing stronger with each torn word. “We got a letter- Spoon and I-” Spoon was Teacup’s 17-year-old brother, older by a year- “They went- missing. They had gone into the rain forest for a week, and they didn’t come back when they were supposed to to report their findings. The research team went out to find them and disappeared, too. No one knows what’s happened or where they are.”

“Oh, dear.” Diana murmured softly, hazel eyes wide. “Now that is a dilemma, isn’t it?”

Teacup lifted her mug to her lips and gulped down her tea, then set down her cup and drew her sleeve across her mouth. “Spoon took it really hard,” she confided in her friend, “Every time I speak to him now he has some new disastrous fact about survival rates or some such. He’s become obsessed with how unlikely it is that they’re alive, and it’s terrible. He just won’t stop. It’s driving us both mad.”

Diana nodded in sympathy. “It sounds like he needs something to take his mind off it,” she said. “Can you think of anything he likes to do that could distract him? Watching movies, playing games...”

Teacup shook her head. “We tried Scrabble, but he just kept spelling words like “death” and “vanish” and “attack”. When we watched movies, he’d tell me exactly why and how you couldn’t really survive any of the things the characters escaped from. Even reading books didn’t help. I really don’t know what to do.”

“Hmmm.” Diana looked thoughtful. “Well, keep trying. Solutions on that front may not be forthcoming for quite a while. But now that your parents are missing, I assume someone will be coming to look after you in their absence?”

“Our uncle.” Teacup nodded. “Terrence. We’ve never met him. But Father sometimes spoke of him, and I know he’s a professor and that he’s a good cook. He’ll be arriving in a few days. He was on a trip in France.”

Diana set down her empty teacup and sighed. “Well, dear, I know it’s hard for both of you, but you must try your hardest not to worry much. There is a very good chance you will see your parents again... And even if, gods forbid, you don’t, you must keep on living. You believe that, don’t you?”

Teacup nodded. “Yes,” she said softly, studying the pattern in her tea leaves, “But I’m not sure Spoon does.”

There was a bird fluttering helplessly against the window pane. Spoon watched it in silence for a moment before picking up a blanket off the rotunda’s wooden floor and carefully approaching the feathered creature. With a swift movement, he pinned it to the glass and scooped it into his hands. It struggled weakly, beak pecking furiously at his arm, but he ignored the pain as he climbed through the trapdoor in the rotunda’s roof. Outside, the brisk spring wind tugged at his black hair as he settled down on the terra cotta roof tiles. He held his cupped hands in front of him and gently unfolded them. The little brown bird stood stock-still for an instant, as if disbelieving its freedom, and then with a rustle of wings it leapt into the sky and sailed away on the wind.

When their uncle arrived, he was dressed in a dull brown pinstriped suit and was carrying two enormous gray suitcases and a slim black snakeskin briefcase that seemed out of place. He did not say hello to either of them, just nodded curtly with a tired smile and went into their parents’ room to unpack.

Teacup watched him through the keyhole, cataloging what he unpacked in an attempt to figure out more about who he was, Sherlock Holmes-style. He unpacked a lot of boring gray and brown clothes first; then he opened the second suitcase and carefully removed 13 books with battered covers and names like “Democracy is in the Streets” and “The Dissenters”. Teacup smiled at that- even though the books sounded like history texts, she liked the reverent way he handled them, as if they were precious treasures. When he pulled a black iPod from a side pocket, he treated it the same way, and the same went for the sleek laptop he unpacked next. Then followed several minutes of unpacking boring household items like toothpaste and carefully arranging them on the night stand. Finally he took a hairbrush from the suitcase and began to brush his hair.

Teacup left at that point. She was pretty sure she’d seen all there was to see.

“He seems Ok.” She told her brother, who was eating breakfast at the kitchen counter. “A little dull, but he likes books, so how bad can he possibly be?”

“Mrs. Twill likes books, and she’s an old hag.” Spoon pointed out with a mouth full of Cheerios. Mrs. Twill was an old widow who lived down the street, and their parents had often hired her as a baby-sitter when the siblings were younger. They had dreaded her, with her smell of dog pee, endless chatter about her grand kids, and harsh punishments for any child caught staying up late or sneaking a biscotti, or breaking any other of her numerous rules. Whereas their own parents had been very lax and kindly, Mrs. Twill was strict and humorless.

Teacup considered this for a moment before sighing and saying, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to wait to find out, then. At least he’s not old and he doesn’t smell bad.”

“So.” This was the first word their uncle said to them when he emerged from their parents’ room. He cleared his throat, seemed to be searching for words, and then sighed and shook his head.

“Do you know anything about what’s going on other than that your parents are missing?” He asked finally.

“No,” Teacup said, “And that includes your name. Or anything about you other than that you’re our uncle. Father never talked much about his family.” Actually, neither of their parents had talked much about their families, and if Tea and Spoon had any cousins, they had never met them. They occasionally saw their grandparents, but not often, and the grandparents absolutely never talked about their other son.

Their uncle sighed again and sat down facing them. They were all in the little red sitting room near the kitchen; Teacup had made her favorite Earl Gray tea, which they were all drinking, except for Spoon, who preferred coffee.

“To be honest, I don’t know much about you either,” their uncle confessed. “I had a bit of an, er, falling out with the rest of the family, you see, shortly after I started college. After that, well, they didn’t really try to contact me, and I didn’t particularly mind. I came to your father’s wedding, but after that our parents made it clear I wasn’t really welcome at family get-togethers. I didn’t even know you two existed until last year, when your mother persuaded your father to start sending me letters. They sent pictures of you. And then they vanished, I was told that, as your godfather- which I am- I was to come and look after you until your parents are found.”

Spoon nodded to himself, giving no outward sign that he had heard any of this, while Teacup asked patiently, “And your name is?”

“Oh, yes,” their uncle looked a little flustered. “I forgot. My name is Terrance. Please don’t shorten it, I hate nicknames.”

Teacup held out her hand and they shook. “Pleased to meet you, Uncle Terrance,” She said politely, “My name is Teacup, and this is my brother Spoon.” If their uncle was surprised by the unusual names, he gave no outward sign, although Tea doubted that her parents had referred to their children by those names in their letters. Generally, in public, their parents had called them by the names on their birth certificates- Teadora and Simon, although last year Spoon had stopped responding to his birth name outright, insisting that his name be officially changed to Spoon. They’d said if that was his choice, when he turned 18 he could have it done.

As Uncle Terrance opened his mouth to speak, Spoon suddenly stood up and left the room. Although Terrance seemed startled by his departure, Tea was not. This was not uncommon for her brother. He was probably headed up to the rotunda, where he liked to read comic books and eat biscotti.

“He’ll come back,” she told her uncle. “Now, please, if there’s anything else to know about our parents’ disappearance, tell me.”

Terrance looked a little uncomfortable. “Well... it’s hard to understand all the pieces, and i don’t want to upset you-”

“Please, I need to know.” Teacup whispered her eyes tearing up. Her uncle gave in.

“There was a letter,” He said. “We’re not sure yet how valid it is- it could be a forgery, or your mother could have been forced to write it, but the authorities don’t think so. And frankly, neither do I. Here it is-” He drew a rumpled piece of brown paper from his pocket and unfolded it carefully. Teacup leaned over the mosaic coffee table to read it:

To sweet Terry-

“She wrote it to you?” Teacup asked, surprised. Terrance sighed and blushed slightly.

“When I was much younger I, er, had a bit of a thing for your mother,” He explained. “But we were never more than friends. She loved your father right from the start. Anyway, the authorities believe your mother was trying to send us a message of some sort, and that’s why the letter was addressed to me; she knew I was fond of codes and things. But for the life of me, if there’s one here, I don’t see it.”

Teacup read on:

We have had to leave suddenly. We’re going deeper into the jungle. Your brother is afraid there are crocodiles in the river near us, although I’ve not seen any. He doesn’t want us to lose the baby.

“What baby?” Teacup demanded. “She wasn’t pregnant or anything.”

“Yes, I know, the authorities believe it’s a code word for something of value, but they don’t know what. You don’t know? There was nothing she referred to as a baby?”

Teacup shook her head. “Nothing. She didn’t even call me and Spoon her babies.”

Three things I want you to remember forever, Terry:

1. Never take the stone from the roof;

2. Dark falls early underground;

3. And there are worse things than being invisible.

Love, forever,

- Your sister-in-law

“She didn’t even sign her name,” Teacup said, frowning. “None of this makes any sense whatsoever. ‘Dark falls early underground?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea,” Terrance said ruefully. “I hoped you or your brother might have some insight- maybe it was some kind of family in-joke or something? No?”

Tea shook her head and slumped back into her chair, tapping her teacup idly with a fingernail. “She never said anything like that...” She said slowly, “Not that I can remember. But we’d better ask Spoon just to be sure. He never forgets anything. If she ever mentioned it, he’ll know.”