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Rebekah MacKenzie (beckathesweet) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2012-10-06 11:55:00

Cooking and Conversation
Characters: Carmel and Becka
Setting: Kitchen, after 4pm

Despite all the thoughts running through Becka's head, she was determined to just focus on having a good time making dinner with Carmel. She was just going to focus on dinner and think about what Leandro's reaction might be to the meatloaf and perhaps get to know Carmel a bit better. Everything else she could think about later. It was a little after four by the time she made it to the kitchen, and she smiled when she saw that Carmel was already there. "Hey," she greeted her, appearing far less distraught than she had the day before. She crossed to the sink, washing her hands. "How're you?" she asked as she dried her hands.

Carmel smiled wearily but happily at Becka as the other woman arrived. She hadn't done much beyond some of the basic prep for making the meal--meat was thawed, a few things were chopped but other things were waiting for her knife skills. She had some potatoes set out, figuring they might toss them in the oven first, maybe. She missed her large kitchen back home, with its multiple ovens. "Hey there," she greeted in return. "I'm all right. Tired but okay," she said. "How about yourself? Things going better for you?" she asked.

Becka glanced over all the things that Carmel had got out, making a mental list of the ingredients that would be different for the one she would make. "Aww, tired is no fun. I'm a bit tired, too," she answered honestly. After not sleeping well and then all the everything today. But she'd got through it all. "Yeah, things are going better. Not perfect, but better." As she spoke she went to the pantry, grabbing the few things she needed and bringing them back to the counter where Carmel had set things up, setting them a little off to the side.

She smiled a bit. "Eh, I'll survive," she said, though she wondered if she would ever get a good night's sleep again at the rate she was going. "Oh good, I'm glad to hear it. Things with that guy get sorted one way or another?" she asked curiously, though if Becka wanted to keep it to herself she wouldn't push. She remembered how upset Becka has seemed the other day.

An inability to sleep well was starting to seem like a trend, though considering this was a prison of sorts Becka supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Still, she was a little concerned for Carmel, because she did look a bit more tired and worn down than yesterday. “Hmm, yeah, a bit. We talked, and things are a little better now. There’s more to figure out still, but isn’t there always?” she answered, grinning some and hoping they wouldn’t stay on the topic long.

"Well, I'm glad you got some of it worked out at least," she told Becka. Not to say she wasn't concerned about the younger woman, because she was, since you never knew with people in here. Especially the way the guy had seemed to act so far. "I hope you all manage to work it out."

“I hope so too,” Becka replied. Carmel seemed to be the sort to really care, and she remembered seeing her talking with Dominic the other night. “Hey, did you... You heard about Dom, right? Do you know what happened? Why he got taken away or whatever?” she asked as she went to the fridge to get a couple ingredients that she needed that Carmel hadn’t already got out.

Carmel's expression darkened with the memory of what she'd seen earlier that day. It had really shocked her, and angered her. She was holding her tongue on the journals for now, just because she didn't trust herself to say anything just yet where anyone would see it. "I was in the lunchroom when it happened," she said, voice flatter than before. "I can't believe that they did that, and I have no idea why they did." It obviously disturbed her, and even angered her. It had been a matter of days, it was true, but she'd felt Dom had had her back, and it was upsetting that he wasn't there to do that now, or around for her to watch over his. She started to get the rest of her things together, mentally sorting what she needed to do first.

Becka tilted her head, stopping what she was doing to look at Carmel at that response. She seemed... disturbed? And definitely upset, and it had Becka wondering just what exactly had happened. "I can't imagine why they would take him away cause he was... Well, he wasn't causing any trouble as far as I know. What exactly happened, anyway?" she asked hesitantly, not sure she really wanted to know.

"He didn't seem to be causing any trouble," Carmel said. "And he didn't seem interested in causing any either." Not unless something happened to Meg, she thought, or something really big went down, she didn't see him actively starting anything up. Her lips tightened and she picked up her knife, the blade flashing as she quickly and expertly started to chop what she had setting out. "They came out of the elevator in like, full gear, tasered him, and took him away, before I barely had time to stand up, let alone do anything," she said flatly.

Becka's eyes went wide at Carmel's words of what had happened to Dominic. "Holy crap," she breathed. "They tasered him? Wow." She was filled with guilt for being annoyed with him and afraid to see him again and concern for his well-being, wondering where he was now. "God, poor Meg. I haven't met her yet, but the way Dominic talked about her... They're each others worlds, you know? It's cruel to bring them together only to tear them apart again," she said softly as she turned back to the food prepping, grabbing one of the mixing bowls and dumping a portion of meat in it.

Carmel glared at the things she was chopping, though perhaps some wouldn't think it the most fearsome glare in the world. The chopped things cowered sufficiently, however, at least in her imagination. "Yeah. Without even telling him to get down or cuffed or whatever. Bastards." The word carried more impact when it was her, for if anyone knew her at all, they knew she rarely cursed at all. Her frown deepened slightly at the mention of Meg. "It is. I've met her, and I thought about going to her earlier... but I thought I'd be unwelcome. And I admit, I don't know what to say." She sighed. She wasn't sure about Meg, mostly because of how she'd hit Dom, and how... unhealthy the relationship seemed to her, from what she'd seen of it.

The way Carmel was going at the chopping was just a little scary, and it made her think about that comment Dominic had made about why she was in here. She wouldn't ask then, though, not when Carmel was so upset. "That's horrible," she said softly. "Oh, yeah, I wouldn't know what to say either." And she could admit to herself that she was a little scared of meeting Meg at all, more so now that Dom was gone. She carefully measured out the dry ingredients she needed, pouring them into the bowl on top of the meat. "I just hope she deals with it okay," she admitted, thinking about how Dom had told her how Meg had tried to kill herself before.

Her knife work, even when upset, was impeccable if a little.. intense. The blade flashed easily back and forth as she cut up all the little things she needed for hers, and for the side dish she thought she might make, though maybe she'd just do something else, she wasn't really sure... Focus, Carmel, she told herself. "I figure I'll talk to her tomorrow, maybe. I'll keep an eye on her for Dom, if I can." Maybe it would help. Carmel set the knife down finally, taking in a deep breath and releasing it. "I do too. Last thing I want is for something to happen." Especially since she knew it would just kill Dom inside even more.

Becka nodded slightly. "Yeah, give her a little time to... come to terms with him being gone, I guess?" she suggested softly, her words not at all confident. "I... I don't think he would survive it if something happened to her." It made her want to look out for Meg too, even though she knew that she would be about as useful as a mouse if something did go down. But the urge to help somehow was strong, no matter how anxious the thought of meeting Meg made her. She added the wet ingredients then, cracking eggs and throwing the shells away, adding ketchup and barbecue sauce and just a small splash of milk. She rubbed her hands together briefly before dipping them into the piled on ingredients, wrinkling her nose at the feel of it all on her hands and between her fingers. "Ew," she said softly. "Worst part of this."

"Yeah, something like that," Carmel said, starting to mix together her ingredients now, her anger somewhat expended with the benefit of having things so very well sliced. "I don't think he would either," she said more softly. It was obvious to her that Dominic had confided in her somewhat as well, which was good, since Carmel wasn't about to tell other people's secrets if she could help it. "I don't want him to go through that, not after everything he's already been through." She'd never even had the chance to give him a proper hug for everything he'd been through. She really regretted that. Carmel snorted and smiled faintly. "I know, right? Meat is so squishy and icky like that, but it's the best way to do it."

Becka didn't want to talk about Dom anymore, not when it made her feel so helpless knowing that there really wasn't anything she could really do. "Me either," she agreed. And yeah, Dom and Meg had dug themselves in deeper with a lot of their really bad decisions, but she truly believed that they'd deserved this second chance, and it just broke her heart some that Dom had been torn away from Meg again so soon. When she glanced over to see that Carmel was smiling a tiny bit, she offered a small smile of her own. "Yeah, that's what my mom and grandma always said. My friend once asked why they don't just wear gloves or something, and my grandma got all huffy and said how you couldn't get it all mixed proper with gloves. And well, you can always wash up after, so it's gross but only for a few minutes," she rambled a little, happy to let the topic to go something lighter.

"Nope, you can't get it mixed proper," Carmel agreed, hands plunging into her own mix. "Homemade meatballs and everything, the same thing. You have to get your hands dirty to get it done up right," she said. Every cook worth their salt knew that, or should, anyway. Becka had been taught by a good cook, obviously, to have heard that much. She said as much, "You obviously learned from someone who was good at it, then. It was your grandma, then, who taught you?" she asked, curious to learn more about Becka.

Becka found herself laughing lightly when Carmel agreed. It was just a soft sound, not quite her normal laugh as she was still trying to switch from the heavy talk about Dominic's sudden departure. "Oh! I don't know all that much, just a little bit here and there. I was always just too busy to hang out in the kitchen much. But yeah, my grandma taught me some, and my mom too. They moved up from Mississippi to Minnesota when my mom was a kid, and so my grandma's definitely got a lot of the southern cooking skills, and my mom loves cooking, always has."

Carmel smiled, almost wistfully. "My grandmother loved to cook, and that's where I learned to love it. We used to stay with her all the time until she moved, and my mother never was much for cooking, so I started doing a lot of it at home relatively young, just because I knew how and I would rather eat stuff that is real food rather than what she could make," she half-joked. Though honestly, her mother hadn't been much of a cook at all. "Southern cooking I picked up from a friend in culinary school, so I do have a dose of that in my repertoire."

Becka was glad that the subject change seemed to be working to lighten the mood just a little bit, and she smiled as Carmel spoke of her grandmother. "Real food is always better," she agreed with a grin. "My mom was never fond of buying microwavable stuff. Once in awhile, yeah, but she loved making things herself." And Becka was wishing now that she'd spent more time in the kitchen with her. God, she missed her mom, her whole family, so much. She finished mixing everything, pushing as much of the meat off her hands as possible before crossing to the sink, pushing in on with her arm so she could wash her hands. Then she found some plastic wrap to cover the bowl with, setting it back in the fridge. "My mom always said the trick to the perfect meatloaf -or meatballs or burgers, really- is to let it sit in the fridge for at least fifteen minutes to refirm up again after you get it all mixed," she explained, not sure if Carmel used that same trick.

"I tried never to eat store bought stuff, unless I had to or could make it just a component of what I was doing." As a kid, of course, she'd started out with simple stuff and modifying those meals you could buy, like the hamburger helper and whatnot, and as she'd learned she'd slowly made more intricate meals with more variety. Any of it was still better than what most of what her mother could or would make. "My grandmother spoiled me for store stuff really, hers was so much better." She missed her grandmother. All the way in Italy, it wasn't like she would see her much even out of prison, but she did miss her nonetheless. "I use the same trick," she said, following Becka's example in short order. Her hands washed as well, she reached for the bag of baking potatoes she'd gotten out earlier and thunked them onto the counter. "So, how many of these do you think we should make?" she asked.

"Yeah, my mom spoiled us, too," Becka said with a little laugh. "I... Well, I lived with my parents all the way until I went to prison," she explained, expression turning just a little embarrassed, as if she expected to get a little grief about it. Becka smiled wider when Carmel said she used the same trick, almost like it reaffirmed what her mom had taught her. She looked at the bag of potatoes speculatively. "I have no idea. I'm not sure how many of us are even here at this point. Might as well make the whole bag?" she suggested. Between the two of them, they'd probably be able to get them ready easily enough.

"Nothing wrong with that," Carmel said, smiling faintly. "I had a friend who paid rent at home in her thirties, and she and her parents got along fabulously." Some people were like that, that was all. She eyed the bag of potatoes, cutting it open with a flick of her knife and nodding affirmatively. "Might as well, they can go in the fridge when they're done, and the leftovers can be made into potato skins in a few days, if needed." She always had a mind to reusing leftovers--not frugality so much as she really hated waste. "Let's wash 'em and stick holes in them and toss them in the oven, I suppose."

Becka's smile had a slightly relieved edge to it, and she nodded. "Yeah, my whole family has always been really close. We've had our moments where we fight like cats and dogs of course, but we'd do anything for each other." And her tone had that pained edge of longing and missing. She kept having the thought in the back of her mind that she wanted to ask about Carmel's conviction, but she wasn't sure asking while Carmel was holding a knife was a good idea. Only that thought made her feel really guilty because she absolutely didn't think Carmel was like that at all, and she really wished she hadn't thought that at all. "Right. Mmmm, potato skins. You're gonna kill us - death by delicious food," she teased lightly, though it probably wasn't the most appropriate joking. "Let's," she agreed, moving over to help with the potatoes.

"You're lucky to have that," Carmel told her honestly. Not everyone did, and she knew that intimately. She leaned over and hugged the woman with one arm briefly. After opening the potato bag, she set the knife aside and grabbed up several potatoes, carrying them to the sink to wash them really quickly. She should get these started soon, they were big potatoes and would take longer than smaller ones. She laughed quietly. "Well, it'll be a good way to go, right?" she said.

Becka smiled, leaning into the one armed hug even as it made her feel even guiltier for her thoughts about Carmel's past. She got another bowl out and followed Carmel to the sink, figuring they could talk while washing the potatoes off. "Only the best," she agreed with a little laugh. A moment later, though, she sobered, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. "Carmel, can I ask you something? And you really don't have to answer if you don't want to, but Dominic said something that's had me wondering, and... What happened? How did you end up here? Well, not here, I mean, before, prison..." She trailed off, the words coming out awkward and hesitant.

Carmel glanced over at Becka at her question, curious. "Sure, go ahead," she invited, tilting her head slightly. She really had to wonder what Dominic had said. "What did he say?" she asked curiously. Her hands didn't falter when the question was finally asked, still steadily washing the potatoes in one side of the sink and setting them in the other for the moment. "Oh, you mean, what did I do?" she said, smiling faintly. "I don't mind answering that. I was convicted for assault, of course. But the real story is that I was raped several years ago, and the guy got off when we took him to trial. So I, ah. I made sure he would never do it again," she said, shrugging one shoulder up, phrasing it delicately enough.

"He... He said something about you going after someone after the justice system failed," Becka answered, hesitating only briefly because she didn't want Carmel upset with Dominic for saying anything, especially now that he was gone and not able to explain himself. Though she was almost glad he wouldn't be able to explain why he'd said that, as she didn't really think Dom would be very understanding of her deciding to give Adam a chance in spite of everything.

Becka nodded when Carmel asked for clarification, but stayed quiet as she answered. Her eyes widened at learning what had happened to Carmel, and she was so focused on that that it took a minute for the rest to sink in. "You mean you.... Oooh. Wow." That was... disturbing, and not a mental image she wanted at all, but Dom's words suddenly made a lot more sense, and she couldn't say she blamed Carmel for seeking her own justice after the justice system failed her. She reached out and squeezed Carmel's arm lightly. "I am so sorry that happened to you," she said softly. She wanted to give her a hug, but well, Carmel's hands were a little busy.

Carmel ahhed softly. She wasn't upset that Dominic had said anything. She was always pretty open about what she'd done and what had happened to her. She didn't see a reason to keep it secret. In fact, to help other people recover from assaults, her story could be important, though in prison it hadn't been quite as much. A lot of female criminals, she thought, had been abused in one way or another.

Her lips turned up, and it was probably the coolest, sharpest smile she'd shown in this place. "Yeah, it all went bye bye," she said in a darkly satisfied way. No, it made nothing better, ultimately, but the man had destroyed her life, and she didn't really feel guilt over it like she knew she should. Her expression softened though when Becka touched her arm. "I can't say it's all right, because it's not," she said. "But I can say thank you. I appreciate that."

That smile was just a little scary, Becka thought, though she tried very hard not to react outwardly to it. While she couldn't blame Carmel for taking her revenge, she couldn't say it was right to hurt another human being. It was just another example of how just not black and white the world was. "Of course it's not. You're welcome," Becka replied softly. She glanced around a little blankly then, feeling a little useless while Carmel washed the potatoes. "What can I do?" she asked, rubbing her hands together lightly.

Carmel flashed her a softer smile, knowing she'd made the other woman a bit uncomfortable. She was sorry for that, but she didn't really hide what she'd done, nor did she want to sugar coat it or pretend she was truly sorry for it. "You wanna start sticking holes in them and put the oven on preheat?" Carmel asked. "I don't want to rub them with butter and salt since I really don't like adding that much salt content to a meal, you know? And I don't know if anyone here has blood pressure problems."

"Yeah, I can do that," Becka answered with a small smile as she went to preheat one of the ovens. "Hmm, yeah I can see that, but I love mine buttered. Maybe we can do a pan buttered and a pan not?" she suggested. They didn't need to add salt, but she'd always thought the butter helped with the baking or something. But then, Carmel was the professional, so she would follow her directions.

"We can go ahead and butter them, no problem," she said with a faint smile. "I don't have a problem with that, just the salt, really. Soooo bad for the blood pressure," she said with a soft laugh. A little bit of butter wouldn't hurt. Hopefully if anyone had legitimate cholesterol and blood pressure problems, they would speak up so she could at least cut the stuff out of a few things for them.

Becka nodded before going to the refrigerator to get the butter, setting things up on the counter while Carmel kept washing the potatoes. Once she was all set, a whole stack of foil torn off to wrap the potatoes in and all, she went to get the washed potatoes. She liked Carmel, and she thought that even though she wasn’t planning to avoid Adam anymore, she would still really like to cook with Carmel more, to learn things she hadn’t taken the time to learn from her own mother.