Scalded

He'd waited too late--as he usually did. You would think he'd learn. He thought he would learn, had learned, but he didn't tell her about...., hadn't told her, wouldn't, shouldn't...no! Strike that thought. No need to confess anything.

Better get out of bed, make the coffee. No strike that. Coffee at 3:17 am was a bad idea.

Tea. 

He'd make tea, some kind of non-caffeinated tea, just what she would do, what she liked. He stared at the two tea packets he'd wormed out of the back of the silverware drawer. Who keeps tea in a drawer? He did. Pulled them out and laughed. Both packets were wrinkled, really crumpled beyond recognition. One of them Ear....something, maybe Earl Grand? Earth Good? Early Great? The bag was too bent and broken to make out the words, maybe Easy...

"Shit," he said and threw it away.

The other packet clearly said Mint. Actually, it said Min, the last letter obliterated, but the bag was green, and it smelled like mint, and the water was boiling, so he dropped the tea bag in yesterday's coffee cup, poured in the water, sat at the kitchen table, and took a sip. Burned his tongue and probably irreversibly scalded his throat, which gave him another reason to hate tea, but....but, something to tell her, to make her laugh at his chronic ineptitude, his tea story a bit of an apology, a first step back: "Look how inept I am, how vulnerable, just like you...."

No! Drop the "just like you." 

Say, "What would you have done?" 

Or  "What kind of tea should I drink at 3 in the morning?" 

Or he could say "I should have called you," then laugh in that self-deprecating manner he'd been working on.

And she would smile, say, "It's all right" or "I'm glad you didn't call. How thoughtful." 

Or.... maybe he should just whisper, "See how much I need you." 

Or just, "I love you," and all would be healed, made right, back to normal.

It hadn't worked all that well before, but better late than....no he couldn't go there. Just leave it at that--better late.