Chapter Text
“Making tea for someone is like making a conversation.”
That was what Miss Oh had always said, as she brewed cup after cup of tea for the people who passed through their shop. Brewing tea did not come naturally for Go Ha Jin, who had worked as a makeup artist her whole adult life before the supposed love of her life ran away with her best friend and all her savings. She had been wandering aimlessly through the streets of Seoul, dragging along a too-full suitcase and a too-empty heart when she happened upon the small tea shop.
Miss Oh had taken one look at her, made her a cup of tea and asked, gently, if she is interested in working for her. Her back is not what it was and it would be a great help if someone would do the more strenuous things around the shop, and there is a spare room on the second floor of the shop house where Ha Jin could stay until she could get her bearings again.
Ha Jin did not know what she did to deserve all this, what Miss Oh was thinking when she said those words and offered such a thing to a virtual stranger – But Ha Jin is lost and alone – So she nods and follows the older woman inside and slept like she hadn’t for a long, long time.
Miss Oh was strict and firm, words sharp and cutting and her knuckles always ready to rap over Ha Jin’s unsure ones whenever she mixes the wrong blend or is careless with the temperature of the water. But soon enough, Ha Jin’s hands are as comfortable around her pot and measuring spoons as they had been with her makeup brushes, the bubbling of boiling water and the delicate scent of brewing tea leaves a constant background that filled crevices inside her she never knew existed.
She never did move from the spare bedroom.
**
Sometimes, Go Ha Jin wonders about the tea that Miss Oh brews for herself and who it might have been for. Wonders what she herself is trying to say whenever she puts the leaves on her pot and submerge them with water.
“You should try making tea for the customers some time, Ha Jin-ah” She doesn’t miss the gentle reprimand on Miss Oh’s tone, but Ha Jin pretends not to hear, busying herself with cataloguing the new shipment of leaves. Making tea is like making conversation, Miss Oh had said – But Go Ha Jin wonders still if she is ready. If she will ever be ready.
When Miss Oh passed away suddenly from an apparently terminal case of stomach cancer, Ha Jin found out that the older woman had left her the shop and all her assets, with a certain amount set aside to pay off her still sizable debt. There was no one else in the reading, just her and the kindly lawyer who told her that Miss Oh had always regarded her as a daughter – Something she was sure was imparted in kindness but broke Ha Jin’s heart even more.
She went back to the shop after three surreal days of service and cremation – stumbling inside with an urn full of ashes and a heart that is even emptier than the first time she went through the shop’s glass doors. She places the urn behind the counter, where Miss Oh usually sits, and locks herself in her room.
Ha Jin doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t cry. She lost track of time, day and night blurring together until she found herself, once again, in their little kitchen. Without realizing it, she had filled a kettle with water, her hand reaching out for the rows of tea leaves in front of her when she saw it.
It was a small muslin pouch, tied with a pink ribbon and placed atop a folded piece of paper. Ha Jin gently puts aside the pouch, unfolds the small piece of paper with trembling fingers to find Miss Oh’s unmistakably elegant script inside.
Don’t forget to open up the shop at 7 AM tomorrow, Ha Jin-ah.
Behind her, the kettle whistled, but she does not care anymore. Go Ha Jin cried and cried and cried because losing the love of her life and her home had made her crack. But losing a mother for the second time was probably what’s going to break her forever. And yet she knows that she wasn’t allowed even that – Not anymore. She understood now that the tea shop is an insurance, almost. A way for Miss Oh to make sure that she keeps going.
The next morning, Go Ha Jin unravels the ribbon around the muslin pouch and carefully puts the contents inside her favorite pot, eyes puffy and red but back straight and chin held high. The tea tastes of flowers and green things, gentle and firm like Miss Oh, and she feels that perhaps, everything might still be all right after all.
People will still pass by through their shop. But from now on, she will be the one to brew them tea. She will reach out and converse, because that’s the only way left that she know to go on.
The tea Miss Oh had given her was white peonies