They met somewhere in between.
The Middle
Emi arrived at the tea shop five minutes early.
She chose the table nearest the window, placed her white bag on the chair beside her, and asked for a pot of tea. From there, she could see anyone approaching along the street.
She had just taken off her hat when she spotted Hana outside the flower shop.
Hana was standing across the road, holding a yellow bag and looking towards the tea shop. When she saw Emi, she smiled and waved.
Emi waved back and pointed to the empty chair.
Hana pointed to a bench beside the flower shop.
Emi held up two fingers, then pointed at the teapot.
Hana nodded and held up two fingers as well. Then she pointed at the bench again.
Emi looked at the teapot. Perhaps Hana thought she had ordered two pots.
She shook her head and lifted one finger.
Across the road, Hana looked down at her own hand, then held up one finger too.
A bus passed between them. When it had gone, Hana was still beside the bench, and Emi was still at the table.
The tea had begun to cool.
Across the Street
Emi stepped outside, carrying her hat.
“We said the middle!” she called when the traffic allowed it.
Hana cupped a hand around her ear.
“The middle!” Emi repeated.
“Yes!” Hana called back, pointing at the flower shop.
Emi pointed at the tea shop.
Hana looked along the road in both directions. Then she opened her bag, took out a folded map and held it up.
Emi could see that there was a map. She could not see what it showed.
She took her own map from her bag and raised it in reply.
Hana leaned forward.
A cyclist rang his bell as he passed. Emi lowered the map to let him through. By the time she looked up again, Hana had begun walking away.
“Hana!”
Hana turned and pointed farther down the street, where a small bridge crossed the narrow canal. There was a crossing beside it.
“Oh,” said Emi.
She gathered her bag, returned inside to tell the server she would be back, and set off towards the bridge. Halfway there, she put her hat on again. The wind immediately lifted one side.
Across the road, Hana was walking in the same direction. She kept her eyes on Emi, who was holding her hat down with both hands and trying not to hurry.
The Small Bridge
They reached the bridge at almost the same moment.
“I thought you were going back to the flower shop,” Emi said.
“I thought you were asking me to stay there.”
“I was asking you to come for tea.”
“With one finger?”
“I had two fingers up for the two of us.”
“I thought you were telling me how long you had been waiting.”
“Two minutes?”
“I hoped so,” Hana said. “I was only five minutes early.”
They unfolded their maps on the low stone wall. Emi had marked a route in pencil from her house to Hana’s, with a circle around the tea shop.
Hana had drawn a line in blue ink. It took a different road and passed directly by the flower shop.
They studied the two lines.
“You came over the hill,” Emi said.
“It’s shorter.”
“It has more steps.”
“That doesn’t make it longer.”
“It does when I’m wearing these shoes.”
Hana looked at Emi’s shoes. Emi lifted one foot slightly, then put it down again. A petal had caught on the toe.
Before she could brush it away, the wind tugged at her hat. Hana caught the brim just as it tipped backwards.
“Thank you,” Emi said.
“You’re welcome. Shall I hold the map too?”
“Only if you have another hand.”
Hana tucked the map beneath her arm. Emi noticed a thin sprig caught in the handle of Hana’s bag. She eased it free and held it up.
“From the flower shop?”
Hana examined it. “From my garden, I think. I cut some branches this morning.”
Emi offered it back. Hana tucked it carefully into her bag.
Which Way First
The tea shop was still on one side of the road. The flower shop was still on the other.
“I’ve already ordered tea,” Emi said.
“And I wanted to show you something in the window,” Hana said.
They looked at each other.
“The tea first?” Hana suggested.
“Then the flowers,” Emi said.
They crossed beside the bridge and walked back together. At the tea shop, the server brought fresh hot water, and Hana moved Emi’s bag onto the floor so she could take the chair by the window.
From there, they could see the flower shop across the street.
“That one,” Hana said, pointing.
In the window stood a small blue pot containing a plant with two pale leaves. Emi leaned closer to the glass.
“The one beside the tall flowers?”
“Yes. I bought one just like it last spring.”
“Did it grow?”
Hana considered her answer.
“The pot is doing very well.”
Emi laughed. Hana reached into her bag and brought out the sprig.
“This one is from the replacement,” she said.
After tea, they went to look at the plant in the window. Hana decided it was best left with someone who knew how to care for it, so they continued along the road together.
At the next corner, Emi pointed left.
“This way is quicker.”
Hana looked at the hill ahead, then at Emi’s shoes.
“For you,” she said.
They took the left turn. A little farther on, Hana stopped to retrieve a fallen petal from Emi’s hat.
“There,” she said.
Emi reached up to check the brim.
“Is it gone?”
“The petal is. Your hat is still there.”
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