Comfort Food
Characters: Grace and Becka Setting: Kitchen, 1pm
The morning had actually been fairly uneventful aside from the flurry of journal activity for Becka, and even though a lot of that had taken some of the shine out of her determination to be in a good mood, she rather thought that she was going to find a way to pull through. She’d spent far too much time moping around feeling sorry for herself already, and there were people here that were dealing with things far worse than she was. Being around Violet really helped; the other girl was like a well of optimism that really helped her to reclaim her own.
In any case, things had mostly been quiet, and when it was getting close to one, Becka excused herself from the clinic to make her way back up to the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what she was in the mood to eat, but she’d look around and hopefully figure it out by the time Grace arrived, if she wasn’t there already.
Other than stepping out for some breakfast and coffee, Grace hadn't left the library after her door was unlocked this morning. She hadn't exactly liked that her door had been remotely locked. It reminded her too much of prison, and wasn't this place supposed to be different from prison? At least she understood why. No one wanted another escape attempt while they retrieved that girl. Simple enough.
When it neared one Grace headed to the kitchen, hoping to grab herself some lunch and wait for Becka to arrive. It seemed that Becka had beaten her, though. "Hello," she said when she saw the younger woman. "Are you Becka?"
Becka turned at the sound of the voice, smiling at the woman who, she noticed, was quite a bit older than her. Or rather, more like her own mother’s age. She smiled warmly at the woman. “I am, yes! And you’re Grace?” she asked, though it didn’t seem all that necessary at this point. “That’s such a pretty name. I love names like that, like Hope and Charity and Grace,” she admitted.
Grace had quickly understood that she was likely one of the oldest here. She didn't mind it, though. She believed that wisdom came with age, after all, and she had plenty to share for any that would listen. "Yes, that would be me," she said, offering Becka her hand. "And thank you? Is your name short for Rebekah? Quite a lovely name in itself."
“It was a compliment, yes!” Becka confirmed at the slightly questioning tone. “And yes, short for Rebekah. I’m not really picky on nicknames though, whatever variation people feel like going with works for me. But thank you, I’m rather fond of it.” She turned back to the refrigerator, opening the door to give a considering look to its contents. “Hmm, did you have anything in particular you wanted for lunch? I can make something up real quick. I’m not like anything great in the kitchen, but I can do basic stuff well enough,” she offered, though she wouldn’t be offended if the woman was the type to prefer preparing her own meals. She was learning that a lot of people here had interesting and somewhat paranoid quirks.
“I didn’t have anything particular in mind, but I can certainly help you out with making lunch if you’d like,” Grace offered. Despite her rich background, she was someone who believed in doing the work that needed to be done rather than sitting around and being waited on. Of course, her idea of work was a little more skewed than others. “I’m more of a basic cook as well. Maybe together we can put together something really good, though,” she said with a small smile. “Did you have something that you wanted to eat for lunch?” Grace herself ate most anything, and would likely try anything new. She was adaptable.
There were a lot of choices, really, but Becka’s mind kept jumping back to the same thing. “Hmm, well, I keep thinking about grilled cheese and tomato soup, so I guess that’s what I want!” she answered with a soft, amused laugh. “I just know it won’t be anywhere near as good as my mom makes. Hers is rivaled only by my grandma’s,” she confided, though she still started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
Grace nodded when Becka said that she was craving grilled cheese and tomato soup. “I might toss some turkey on mine as well. Protein can help you keep full,” she said as she went to start looking for a way to grill the sandwiches that they would make, whether she had to do it in a pan or if they had something like a George Forman grill around. They seemed to have everything around here, so she wouldn’t be shocked if they had one of those. “My grandmother made a great tomato soup as well. She also had a wonderful chicken noodle recipe that I made my daughters when they were sick. Nothing like it.”
“Ooh, turkey, good idea!” Becka said, getting a package of it out along with the other ingredients. Closing the fridge, she set everything on the counter before going into the pantry for the bread and canned tomato soup since it would be far simpler and take much less time than trying to make their own. She smiled warmly when Grace told her that little tidbit about her own family. “Mmm, homemade chicken noodle soup is pretty perfect when you’re sick. I was just getting over a cold when I got here, and it would have been amazing then. But today we’ll just have to stick with Campbell’s,” she said with a little laugh as she went to grab a couple plates to start assembling the sandwiches on.
“I’m sure that Campbell’s will be fine for today,” Grace said with a smile. She didn’t cook too often in her old home (she had a cook for a reason), but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know how. She had been brought up to be able to take care of a home better than any servant could ever dream of doing, but had always been wealthy enough to afford to pay others to do it while she worked on different things. “Maybe when it gets a little bit colder I’ll make the chicken noodle soup, though. Might even help moral around here a little bit.” She knew that things had been rough around here lately, so anything to help the mood was likely a good idea.
Becka smiled at Grace. She didn’t know much of anything about the woman yet, but so far she liked her. “It couldn’t hurt,” she said, clearly liking the idea. She went to wash her hands before actually assembling the sandwiches, glancing at Grace again as she did so. “How long have you been here? I don’t think I’ve really seen you around.” Which didn’t necessarily mean anything, as Becka was fully aware that she’d been rather caught up in her own dramas lately. She needed to stop that, to get out a little more.
“I’ve only been around since the day before yesterday,” Grace explained as she helped out as well, getting the cans of soup and opening them so that she could heat them up on the stove. “I arrived in the evening, so there wasn’t much for me to do but settle in and maybe explore a little.” Plus, she had been taking advantage of the library and catching up on her reading a bit. “How long have you been here?” She knew the place was new, but it seemed that there had been plenty of people in the place before she came along.
“Ahh,” Becka said with a small nod of understanding. Wow, so Grace really was pretty new, comparatively. With the sandwiches ready to go, she got the cooking spray out and sprayed the pan, turning on the burner beneath it. “Well there seems to be plenty to explore, and more cropping up from time to time.” Once the pan was heated enough, she placed the sandwiches on it, enjoying the smell that immediately wafted up. “Oh! I’ve been here since day one, I’m guessing. It seemed to be the first day, anyway, and I haven’t met anyone who’s been here longer,” she answered.
“More to explore? Do they add onto the place while we sleep?” Grace asked with an amused smile. She figured that there were likely places that would be suddenly opened up to them, but the idea of them coming in and doing construction while they slept was highly amusing to her, still. “How long has this place been...hmm...open seems like the wrong way to put it, but with people like us inside of it?” She understood that the concept was new, but exactly how new was it? Once she had the cans opened, she started to pour the soup into the pot, mixing in the right amount of water as the instructions required as well.
Becka laughed lightly at the thought, shrugging a bit as she went to find a spatula. “I don’t really know if they actually add stuff on. It’s more that new spaces are opened up to us. Like, when was it? The fourth day, I think, they made the basement level with the clinic and laundry room available, but that hallway was closed off. And like, there’s still a locked door upstairs that’s a mystery,” she pointed out, nodding to the ceiling above them. “And, umm.” Her expression twisted up a bit as she counted back the days to when she was brought here. “Let’s see, it’s been eight days,” she answered. Easing the spatula under one of the spatulas, she lifted it enough to see if it was ready to be flipped, but it wasn’t, so she dropped it back down and went back to waiting.
Grace started to occasionally stir the spoon so that it didn’t burn on the bottom. “It’s odd that there are so many locked rooms in a place like this. I suppose that they think that they can give us more when they think we’ve been good, like Santa.” Of course, being on the naughty list seemed to be much worse than simply getting a piece of coal shoved in your stocking. “Really? Only eight days? I understood that it was new, but I thought maybe it had been going a little longer than that.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of being such a guinea pig in this place, but it didn’t seem that she had much of a choice. Despite everything, it was still better than prison.
“Oh, hmm, I don’t think there’s that many locked rooms now. They opened up the pool the same day as the basement, so now it’s just the one upstairs and there’s another locked space in the basement level. And well, I don’t think anyone can get upstairs in the other block either, but I imagine that’s probably because no one’s living up there yet,” Becka rambled a bit, putting voice to thoughts she’d pondered before. “But they do seem to be working on a reward system,” she agreed, almost as an afterthought. She nodded slightly. “Yep, only eight days. Feels a lot longer, though,” she admitted, flipping the sandwiches now.
"It does seem like time passes a little bit slower in here, doesn't it?" Grace mused as she seasoned the soup. "Seems like time drags a little slower when you don't have the freedom to leave." This place was still very nice, but it had a bit of a 'guilded cage' quality to it. "At least they do reward you for doing well in here. Gives you a little bit of extra incentive to act nice. Do they just open up rooms, or do they do other things as well?"
“It really does,” Becka agreed, wrinkling her nose a bit. It wasn’t quite as bad as Shakopee had been because at least here there were things to do. While she couldn’t deny that the rewards were nice, Becka rather thought that it was sad that anyone needed that extra incentive to act nice. Shouldn’t people want to better themselves anyway, even just for the hope of early freedom? “Umm, other things like what?” she asked, not really sure what Grace was looking for.
Grace shrugged when Becka asked her what sort of other things. "Maybe letters from home? I know I'd love to hear from my daughters," she explained. Once the pot of soup started to boil, she turned it down to simmer. She missed her children terribly, and she knew that the admins said that they weren't letting them have contact for a while, but one letter from her oldest, Helen would be enough to hold her over for a while. "Is there anyone you'd like to hear from?"
There was no denying the sympathetic expression Becka’s face took on at Grace’s answer, and at the question, she nodded. “Oh yeah, definitely. My family, we were all really close, so not having contact with them at all? It’s kind of killing me, you know?” she admitted. “But I did ask them for my quilt from home, and they actually got it for me. I’m pretty sure that if my mom was allowed, she’d have sent other things along, but she didn’t, so...” she trailed off, shrugging slightly.
Grace nodded when Becka explained that she was able to get a quilt from home. “Maybe I can at least get a picture then,” she said. She hadn’t been allowed one in her prison cell yet (she supposed the prison guards thought she might paper cut someone to death), but she’d request to get one for her room here. “Maybe we’ll luck out and eventually, once things are a little more settled, we can get those letters from our family or maybe even an occasional phone call or visit.” She could dream, anyway. Along with her children, she’d like to see her father as well. He was supposed to do something for her, but there was no way she’d know if it happened if she had no contact.
Glancing over at Grace with a concerned expression, Becka couldn’t help but ask, “You don’t have any at all?” She had a small box full of letters and pictures and knick knacks from her friends and family, so it seemed impossible that Grace didn’t have any at all. But then, not everyone had been in a minimum security place like she’d been. “I do hope so, but I’m trying not to get my hopes too high on that. After all, that welcome message did say that the goal is to get us new lives, basically, so it would make a sick kind of sense if they were trying to condition us to not have any contact with our family or friends.” And her expression spoke volumes to just how much she hated that idea.
Grace had certainly not been in a minimum security place. She made a face when Becka explained that they were likely to be conditioned to having no contact with their friends and family. Sick, but likely true. She supposed that there were trades to make in a place like this. She wasn’t sure if she was OK with such a trade, though. “Not at the moment, but where I was had to be strict about those sorts of things,” she explained to Becka. The soup was pretty much done, but she stirred it occasionally to keep it from burning. Tomato soup could burn easily and it affected the taste greatly. “I should ask for some pictures from home.”
Giving Grace a sad sort of smile, Becka nodded slightly in understanding even if the words made her a little anxious about what Grace might be in for. It was easy to forget in moments like a little bit ago that everyone here were convicted criminals, and if she was in a higher security place - well, it made her a little nervous. “You should!” she encouraged, focusing on that rather than thoughts about what Grace’s crime might have been. She checked the sandwiches, pleased to see them that perfect golden brown color, and went ahead and took them out of the pan, setting one on each plate before going to find bowls for the soup. “And there we go, lunch!” she said with a little laugh as she set the bowls next to Grace to dish out the soup.
Grace would likely tell what she was in for if Becka did ask, although she would likely keep the explanation strictly to what she was convicted for, not all that she had done. No point in lying, but no point in admitting anything she hadn’t been convicted for, either. Who knew who was listening in to them? “The sandwiches look delicious,” she said to Becka with a slight smile. She started to scoop out soup for the two of them, handing one of them to Becka and then making one for herself. “It’s so nice to be able to have real food that you choose for yourself rather than the stuff that a prison kitchen puts together.” She was convinced they used less than quality ingredients in those things.
“Thank you,” Becka replied simply, returning the small smile. She took the offered bowl and set it next to one of the plates, going to get silverware out of one of the drawers for the both of them. “Oh definitely. I wasn’t in that long, but it doesn’t really take long to miss it, does it?” And even if she was able to choose her own food here, she still missed her mom’s cooking. It was a small thing on top of all the heavier things that she desperately missed and were leaving a deep, aching hole in her.
"You're welcome," Grace said with a smile. "I wasn't in for that long myself, but it doesn't take long to miss all the creature comforts of home at all," she agreed. Grace missed being able to make decisions for herself, actually. She didn't like the idea of someone else controlling her actions. She had been in control for so long that it was near impossible to give up the reins. She spooned herself up some soup, putting it in her mouth. "How's the soup?" she asked.
Becka tore off a piece of her grilled cheese and dipped it in the soup before taking a bite of it. “Mmm, it’s good,” she answered after she’d chewed and swallowed. “So, you have kids?” she prompted, curious about Grace’s home life. “Where are you from? If you don’t mind my asking?” She liked the older woman so far, and she thought it couldn’t hurt to get to know her better.
“Yes, I have four daughters,” Grace said with a nod as she grabbed for her sandwich, tearing off a small piece of it and dipping it into the soup herself before eating it. “The sandwiches are excellent as well. I don’t mind at all. I’m from Tennessee,” she told her. Grace felt no need to hide anything, at least as long as it was public record. “Where are you from?”
“Four daughters? Wow, that’s cool. I have three brothers, no sisters though,” Becka admitted, though she wondered if she shouldn’t cut back on the whole offering information about herself thing. “Thank you,” she said simply at the compliment on the sandwiches, smiling a bit. “Tennessee? Neat. I’ve never been there. I’m from Minnesota,” she answered before taking another bite of soup-dipped sandwich.
“I would have loved to of had a son, but all of my daughters are wonderful,” Grace said. She certainly didn’t feel that a son could do something that a daughter couldn’t. She just would have liked the experience of having a son as well. “Minnesota? Really? It seems that we’re all from all sorts of different places across the country,” Grace mused as she helped herself to another bite of sandwich. “Makes me wonder just where we are in this place.”
Becka smiled in semi-understanding at that. “I know my mom was always really happy to have had a girl among the boys.” And that was true; her mom had often groaned (mostly jokingly) about how they were outnumbered enough as it was. “Yeah, it really does, but it’s interesting. I don’t think I’d have had a chance to meet people from so many different places and backgrounds and such. You have to find a way to see the positive, right?” she posed with a faint grin. And there really were several people here that she liked a lot.
Grace thought on that for a moment before nodding. She knew that she would not have met such an interesting group of people from so many backgrounds in Tennessee. Her home state didn’t exactly attract too many explorers, after all. “That is a good point. I never would have met someone like you if these administrators hadn’t of arranged for us to be here around each other.” She did find it to be an interesting experiment. She just wondered if it would work in the end, or if it would blow up in everyone’s face. Either way, though, it would be quite interesting to watch.