Meg Callahan (setinstone) wrote in the_colony, @ 2010-08-08 16:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 18, bridget mackenzie, meghan callahan, | bridget and meg |
Week 18: Friday
Characters: Bridget and Meg
Location: The farmhouse cellar, then front porch
Summary: Bridget helps Meg with some inventory, then the two relax for a bit outside
Rating: G
“Okay let’s see what the haul is...” Bridget looked at the two boxes filled with canned goods that raiders had brought back earlier in the day. The items were worth their weight in gold, considering how long they had to wait until their first crop harvest and she was very glad to see them. “Looks like we’ve got all kinds in here.” She looked over at Meg, though she knew the other woman couldn’t see her. “Where do you want to start?”
“Anything big?” Meg spoke while facing the massive shelving unit on the south wall of the cellar, one hand steadied on the fourth level, to get her bearings. The fingertips of her other hand drifted across the dusty surface, finding by memory the first can in line on that particular level. “I mean, like... Cost-co sized.” Please don’t let them have an abundance of lima beans again.
“Um...” Bridget started taking all the cans out of the boxes to see exactly what they had, size-wise. “Looks like we’ve got two of the Costco sized, one green bean and one tomato, everything else looks standard supermarket sizes.” She hefted one of the large cans and held it up for the other woman to take. “Here’s the green bean one.”
Judging by the sound of effort in Bridget’s voice, and the subtle nearness of it to boot, Meg angled a shoulder back toward the other woman and held out a poised, probing hand. A gauging brush of fingertips found Bridget’s wrist, then hand, then ultimately the heavy gallon of preserved beans, slipping beneath it in order to place it on the proper shelf--directly in front of the last one, third from the right.
“Tomatoes? Stewed tomatoes?” Meg’s brow pushed down a little, then both bounced up with an appreciative nod. Those would be good with the half-gallon of chili powder someone decided was important enough to bring back.
“Yeah, stewed.” Bridget nodded out of habit and lifted the second one for the other woman to take. “Maybe we can make some vegetarian chili, or venison chili if one of the guys finds a deer, use up some of that chili powder. Here’s the other one.”
“Pssh-yeah.” A healthy amount of pleasant sarcasm went into Meg’s scoff as she slipped her palm under the heavy can. “So long as I don’t have to cut up the damn thing.” Remember the rabbit? What a disaster.
“They won’t make you clean it,” Bridget assured her friend, trying and failing to suppress the smile in her voice. “Though I think even you’d be able to figure it out, a deer quarter is a little bigger than a rabbit.”
Meg ‘looked’ at Bridget--which was basically a direct confrontation of cataract fogged eyes and a snarky smirk. “Have you ever chopped up a dead animal?” She was just teasing, but there was a hint of truth in her jest. There was a reason there were no blind surgeons. Ever.
She moved on though, smiling ruefully at the thought. “Besides, we don’t have a meat grinder. Or if we do, no one’s told me about it.”
“Yes, I have,” Bridget stuck her tongue out at Meg. “I had five brothers, I’ve even cleaned my own kill before.” It was a little easier to talk about the past now than it had a few months ago, the passage of time was helping put some distance from the pain of losing everyone she’d cared about. “And a hand powered meat grinder is on the raiding list.”
“Well at least I know who to delegate the next four legged dissection to...” Meg’s hand had lowered to the next wrung of shelves, where the standard size cans of prepared meals were situated (canned meats and pasta’s, mainly). “Any Chef Boy-Ar-Dee?” Fingertips grazed the rows of cans, counting always from the right. “Looks like we’re out of Spaghetti-O’s.”
“Yeah, but no Spaghetti-O’s.” Bridget rummaged through the boxes. “Two cans of ravioli, and one of ABC’s, that’s it on the prepared food looks like. Everything else is canned fruits, veggies, and some juices. Whoever was hoarding this stuff must have been more health conscious than average.”
Of course, no Spaghetti-O’s: the one she was really hoping for. “Figures.” Meghan bent at the knees, balancing easily on booted toes--one hand on it’s place near the rows of cans while the other lifted, open, toward Bridget’s voice. “Hand me the Ravioli’s.. then the ABC’s. Don’t suppose they found you any more prenatals?”
Bridget looked at the other woman somewhat wistfully, such a simple movement and one that she had difficulty pulling off these days. She shook her head and returned to the topic at hand as she handed Meg the first can of Ravioli. “Yeah, they found another bottle of the stuff the other day, I’m good for another month or so. As long as I don’t eat us out of house and home.” Her appetite was a fearsome thing these days.
Meg nodded, slipping the first can into it’s rightful place in her tactile memory. Of course, there was a somewhat crooked grin on her lips. “There’s plenty of rabbit stew left. Better get to it now before it starts to turn.” One good thing about winter: the whole outside was one big fridge, so perishables were still good for a week or two. Meg just wanted to see if she could green Bridget’s gills a little, in the sake of good fun.
Bridget made a face as she handed the next can over. “We wouldn’t want to waste food, I don’t think the dogs were interested in it though.”
The blind woman laughed: a quick, aborted sound... but genuine nonetheless. She smoothly traced the line of Bridget’s wrist to the second can and put it away. “Sarge isn’t picky.” On mention of his name, the massive mix breed lounging on the cellar landing lifted his head. Meg heard this, and smirked in his direction. “Yeah, I’m talking about you.” The dog licked his chops... hesitated, then set his chin down on crossed paws, understanding that food wasn’t imminent just yet.
“So.” Her hand was open for the next can, and Meghan’s cloudy gaze peeked through the fans of her lashes up at the other woman. “What do you want for Christmas? I’m thinking a day at the spa.”
The third can was produced after the older woman took the second. “I don’t know...” she sighed and thought about it for a moment. “A day being pampered and waited on hand and foot doesn’t sound too bad, really.” Her birthday had come and gone a few weeks back, and everything she could reasonably expect to get in physical items were free anyway. “Especially if it included an all expenses paid trip to Hawaii.”
Meg went a little quiet for a moment, clearly remembering something. Namely, her honeymoon, more than a decade before. Her and Jacob had gone to Hawaii, and though she had no reference point to the gorgeous sunsets and fantastic scenery everyone else may have taken for granted, she did remember the feel of powder fine sand under her toes, made hot by the sun. The salt and foam in the air, with just the tiniest hint of sulfur when the wind blew in from Pele.
Her smile was faint, but still there. “Definitely.”
Bridget noticed the silence but didn’t press. Everyone who’d survived had their demons, herself included, and it was better not to dig too deep at such times. “Here’s the ABC’s.”