you fit me {chai!}

[coralie annette diamond]

Coralie was overwhelmed with sadness. After she'd gotten off her shift at work, she'd taken the route past the craft store to pick up some special colors for the scarf she was knitting Holliday. It was going to be an intricately patterned piece which would require a special small needle that she didn't already have and four specific colors that Coralie had worked tirelessly on deciding. She'd brought her list of specific colors with her as well as the needle number and strode in, confident and prepared.

What she was not prepared for was for them to not have all of her colors. She'd called ahead to make sure the needle would be there and it was, just as they'd said it would be. From that point on, it should have been smooth sailing--after all, yarn was never more difficult to find than special crafting tools. She'd had no trouble at all finding thistle, seafoam, or creamsicle, but when it came time to find the custard, it was nowhere. She scoured every shelf, reaching in and digging through all of the yarns, but there was nothing that even came close. She didn't know what to do because there was a duplicate scarf that needed making so that she could sell it to someone who had already placed the order but it couldn't possibly be made without custard.

After comparing all of the colors in the same color family as custard, she decided on cheesecake. On her way to the register, her feet were dragging and she could feel a wave of horror coming--but she fended it off, because there were no convenient pieces of furniture on which to throw herself. This was why, after her purchases were made, she didn't head for her dorm but rather Chai's apartment. After banging on the door in as ladylike a manner as possible and being let in, Coralie threw herself on the nearest couch with a piteous wail.

"Oh, Chai, the absolute worst thing has happened!" she cried, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead. Her hand with the bag was flopped over the couch so that the bag was resting on the floor. "It is so terrible, I can't bear it!" She turned toward him, eyes wide and sad like she might have cried--but she would never do that while wearing eye makeup.

[willem van der holt]

Chai floated around his room like a ghost: without reason and with soft, subtle movements that made him appear almost levitating as he strolled. With his roommate having been away most of the day, Chai had been left to his own devices. He strolled around the flat, he cleaned a little bit here and there, he played a few jazz records, and, of course, he had to water his plants with a little bit of hot tea to make sure they were still producing their succulent herbs to be used later in the week. He had made a promise to one of his good friends to make lasagna on Friday for a small party and he simply couldn't think of using store-bought herbs to concoct his, arguably, most famous dish. After inspecting his plants to ensure their good quality, Chai went to drinking a hot cup of organic Earl Grey and sort of drifting around the house to the sound of Miss Erika Davies' lovely voice. Sighing, he finally settled his restlessness by sitting down and folding one long leg over the other and reclined back in to the futon.

Idly, he twirled fingers in to the messy of slightly curled, blonde locks of his hair, staring off blankly in to his space. Pulling one of the locks in front of his face, he looked at it with a sort of cross-eyed expression. Being summer, his hair had become bleached in to a much lighter shade of flaxen. He had also begun to realize just how much he needed a haircut, with his tips being as frizzy as they were. Chai's inspection of his hair was disturbed by the sound of knocking at his door. A little hesitant, Willem got to his feet and quirked his head, he hadn't been expecting visitors and he was always wary of those sales' people. They overwhelmed him with how quickly they talked at him. Still, he slowly twisted the lock and creaked open the door.

Upon the discovery of Coralie, a warm smile overcame him, showing his perfect line of white teeth and the small dimples in his cheeks as he opened the door for her to enter. "Good day, Coralie," he purred in a friendly tone, but quickly noted her downtrodden appearance and, quickly, he mimicked her appearance as he turned to watch her collapse on to his sofa. He bit down on his lower lip and watched her a moment before slowly nodding, "Uhm, can I make you food? Food always makes happiness!" he offered, not sure what else to do, but not liking that sad look she was giving him. He went to turn off his jazz music so Coralie wouldn't be disrupted and returned to the main living room area.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, sitting on the floor, crosslegged, across from her. He was watching her intently with vivid navy eyes, trying to hide his mild amusement with how thespian his good friend could be from time to time.

[coralie annette diamond]

Lying on Chai's couch was helping. The familiarity of throwing herself over his furniture was comforting and her hand slowly slid away from where it rested like a makeshift cool compress on her forehead. Chai was really the best person to emote to because he never judged her or tried to tell her that her problems were tiny and insignificant--which they most certainly were not, but whenever she tried to tell this to other people, they never seemed to believe her. His encouragement of her predicament convinced her to sit up just a bit, carefully so as not to rub her hair on the side of the couch. She sniffled.

"Oh, Chai, it's horrible." She looked at him, at the cup of tea in his hand, and considered his offer. "Some tea might be nice. You know how I like it, darling." She turned back to staring at the ceiling, glassy-eyed and sad. Her other hand was still clenched around the handles of her bag and she lifted it up and onto her lap so that she could share her tale of woe with the visual aid of the offending colored yarn. She pulled all of them out in order, laying them out on her stomach like a fuzzy rainbow and then set the bag with the needle and receipt back on the floor before turning to Chai with her hopeless face.

"Well, you see," she said, sniffling and trying [sort of] to compose herself from her sadness so that she could get through all of her story before she started wailing again. "I am knitting a scarf set for Holliday and I have the pattern and all of the colors all set and ready. I went to buy them after work today, you know, as I always do. I found thistle, seafoam, and creamsicle without any problem," she said, pointing at each color respectively, "but then when I went to find custard, they had none. None!"

She picked up the cheesecake colored yarn, which was just a shade lighter than custard, and waved it in his face. It didn't matter how many shades lighter or darker it was, though--Coralie knew the whole scarf was ruined because of it. "So I had to buy cheesecake!" she wailed, thrusting it at him. "Look! Cheesecake!" She looked at him, eyes wide, waiting for him to confirm what she already knew--that the entire world was against her and that her scarf was going to be hideous.

[willem van der holt]

Chai was about as melodramatic as a cucumber, but he always got enjoyment out of the extreme ups and downs in Coralie's life because it gave him a sense of excitement. The drama, although mostly feigned, was nothing short of having a sitcom conspiring in your living room. Nevertheless, he set his tea down on the counter and began to put together various herbs to make a nice, sleepy time tea for Coralie. The kettle was already on and, resting all of his weight on one leg, he began to put together her beverage. He decided on adding a small dallop of honey for good measures before turning back and placing her cuppa on the coffee table adjacent to her drama throne also known as the couch. "There, there," he murmured, sitting back down on the floor where he had been originally.

He watched the yarn like any good friend would have, nodding slowly as she explained all of the colours. Although he was quite in to fashion himself, colours had never been his pick of choice, which was determined by his nearly all black and white wardrobe. Nevertheless, he listened intently to her story, sliding his tea off of the counter and going back to sipping on it. "Custard?" he echoed, frowning. Not knowing the exact difference between custard and cheesecake, he just nodded again, trying to look as concerned as possible.

"Can you use, uhm, how do you say?" he set his tea back down, tapping his fingers together anxiously as he tried to come up with the sentence, "Can't you use internet to find yarn?" Chai was an online shopper aficionado--being six foot one and a piddling one hundred and twenty pounds meant that most of his clothes had to be special ordered. Once he started buying clothes online, Chai found a love for online shopping and began doing all of his shopping online. Except plants, of course, one couldn't find fresh plants online and expect them to be shipped well.

"This is nice colour," he pointed out, but knowing there was no reasoning with Coralie when she had her heart set on something, "Is there other store? We can take trip to other store," he offered. He didn't exactly know what or where another store would be, or even if there was another one that would sell yarn, but he was just trying to be nice.

[coralie annette diamond]

Coralie was more attached to the idea that there was someone who cared enough to know exactly how she liked her tea than she was to the way her tea was prepared, so she didn't bother to check on how Chai was doing in the preparation of her comfort drink. She watched him with her head tilted sideways until he turned to come back in the room, at which point she resumed her dramatic position--supine and facing up, hand draped over her forehead and fingers trailing over her closed eyes. Chai was both used to her dramatics and nice enough to not point out how dramatic they really were.

"Custard," she repeated, lifting the yarn again and waving it in a half-hearted circle. "It's just a shade lighter, but it makes all the difference, as you know. These colors--they just aren't magical together." She dropped the cheesecake yarn next to the other four and waved to them before sighing. One by one, she picked them up and dropped them back into the bag, movements slow and deliberate. Her pout got poutier with each drop, until by the final yarn, the lipstick on her top lip was in danger of being smudged by the inside of her bottom lip.

She sighed again and scooted up on the couch so that she was sitting up enough to drink her tea when it cooled. "I don't have time to use the internet. If I do that and rush the shipping, I'll have to raise my price and that's just poor salesmanship." She shook her head and reached for her tea, bringing it over and blowing on it. At his suggestion of another store, she drew her brows together in thought, lips puckered in mid-tea cooling blow. "Oh, you know," she said, tapping her chin with one blush nail. "There might be another store. I didn't even think of that."

About nine times out of ten, Coralie's fits were over as abruptly as they had started and this one was no exception. She smiled at Chai, seemingly cured, and crossed one leg over the other to be more conversational. "So, darling," she said, taking a sip of tea. "Ooh, this is delightful. What is it?" She frowned at her own interruption and then shook her head to clear it. "Anyway, darling, how are you? Have you done anything interesting in the past few days?"

[willem van der holt]

Chai seemed more to float than walk. His long legs moved effortlessly that gave him this sort of ethereal quality. Although he had been mighty gangly and awkward as a child, he had certainly grown in to his long, noodle-like figure over the years. And he strolled across the main living space for no reason at all—perhaps just to walk—but kept his Forget-Me-Not eyes on Coralie the entire time. Although some might be concerned that Chai drugged his tea for just how serene he seemed all the time, he was actually like this quite often. The zen that was Chai was truly overpowering and he looked down to her with a touch of sincere smile.

“Yes, I understand,” and he did to some degree. When it came to the matter of tea, the art was of precision. Sometimes, things tasted okay together, but when you got the right blend of herbs and spices—the experience could be intoxicating. As such, when one lived in a glass house, it wasn’t wise to throw stones, so Chai didn’t even think to criticize her and say colours didn’t matter, because they did, at least to Coralie, and that’s all that mattered. “I need chocolate,” he said slowly, his exotic voice low and thoughtful, “I can get chocolate from this one store only in a shopping center half hour from here, maybe they have a store for you,” he didn’t go to the mall often since the bus ride was long and the taxi drive was expensive, but he had to go every three months or so to stock up on vegan-friendly chocolate, which was awfully difficult to find these days.

He nodded his thanks when she complimented his tea but dismissed her question. It was a Chai made blend, of course, and was never something you could buy. People in his past suggested that Chai really should try and make a small business out of his teas, but it was no bother. He did it because he enjoyed it and he liked to share the delight that was tea with his friends and family—not to make money off of it. Nevertheless, he gave a friendly nod, “I am well,” he explained as he truly had been. His English had been seeing signs of some exceeding improvements and the break from classes had given him time to relax and tend to his plants. “No, not much. I did cook a, uhm, a avocado wrap yesterday. That is it. You?”

Now about half way done with his cup of tea, and the tea beginning to grow cold, he wandered over to his Aloysia Virgata plant sitting on the kitchen counter and dumped the remainder of the tea in to its soil. “There you are,” he murmured, more to the plant than anyone else before rinsing the mug out in the sink and returning to Coralie, “Are you hungry?” he asked—always having a million things in his fridge to pull together.