Page 44 of Mother Parker
“Good morning, Kimchis. It’s your boy, Hwanchan, here. Will you help me pick my tea of the day?”
While the eggs fried, I opened the cabinet above my head that stored all my leaves and mugs and scanned the contents.
I tried to focus on all the labeled jars or the colorful mugs I’d collected over the years, but seeing the tea only brought Parker to the front of my mind.
He’d been working for me for two weeks, and he still hadn’t admitted any of my drinks were good. Even after reasoning with him that, as an employee, he needed to have a favorite flavor to readily sell to our patrons, he’d just waved me off.
And I knew he was lying because it was obvious he liked them.
Why was it so hard to admit he had a favorite flavor or enjoyed the drinks? Did it feel emasculating or something? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d heard some insecure macho assholes refer to bubble tea as a gay drink—only they didn’t use gay when they said it—but Parker, for all of his general demeanor and short manners, wasn’t like that. That much was clear.
I shook my head and blinked back to reality. I turned to my phone and realized I’d been quiet for a while.
“Oops. Sorry. I guess I’m still sleeping,” I said to my viewers before returning my attention to the cabinet. “Today, the options are…”
I touched my nose, scanning the contents again.
“We’ve got chrysanthemum tea,” I said, taking out the jar and showing it to the camera, “White spice…oh, and this one. I just got the delivery yesterday. French Earl Grey. It’s got rose petals and other floral notes in the blend, and”—I opened the jar and inhaled the aromas—“it smells divine.”
The comments poured through, unanimously in favor of the French blend.
So without much fuss, I put the other jars back in the cabinet and dropped three scoops of the loose leaves into the teapot.
Then, while it steeped in hot water, I took the eggs off the stove, filled a bowl of rice from my rice maker, added some kimchi from my jar, and added the fried eggs on top with a sprinkle of sesame oil and spring onions.
“I woke up famished today, Kimchis. I wish you could taste this stuff. It’s so good. Although I can already tell I’ll need a second breakfast as soon as I go down to the café. What are you having for breakfast?”
Comments started coming through, and I poured my cup of tea, taking a seat at my dining table.
I interacted with my viewers, and as usual, they loved everything I said. It was a lot more love and support than I’d ever gotten in my real life from the supposed community of this island.
Not to say that the residents of Mayberry Holm weren’t supportive, but I’d never felt a part of it, even after sixteen years here. Most of my classmates had either left the island to pursue careers in the city or gone to work on their family farms, which didn’t leave me with a string of friends.
Thankfully, working at Carson’s Grill had slightly expanded my circle, so I didn’t feel totally alone.
And I wasn’t. Whatever I lacked in real life, my online friends and followers made up for it in droves. Halmeoni didn’t see how I could consider complete strangers as friends, but she was from a different generation, so I didn’t blame her for that.
What time do you open the bubble tea shop? Isn’t it late?
I smirked and leaned closer to the camera.
“Well, it is, in fact, a little later than usual. You’re very observant. My new employee is setting up the store himself this morning, so I got an extra hour of sleep, but I’m about to go down and join him.”
I’d gotten so used to having him around that I was dreading the time he would up and leave me all alone to deal with everything again.
There was always Elliot, but…he didn’t count. He was timid, shy and still too young so there was only so much work he could do.
As much as I hated to admit it, I liked Parker’s company, and not only because I wanted to climb that hot mountain—I didn’t. I didn’t want to climb him. Much.
It was nice to have someone around to talk to and brush up on that sarcastic streak inside me.
But I knew our time together would end sooner or later. Sooner, most likely. Since the broken door, there hadn’t been any other accidents for them to deem suspicious incidents.
And no, it hadn’t crossed my mind to break a window or bust a lock in the café just to keep him around longer. No. Notat all.
Any chance of a cheeky little shot?
Show us your employee.
