living_history (living_history) wrote in the_colony, @ 2011-03-23 15:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 35, bridget mackenzie, colleen mccourt, | bridget and colleen |
Week 35 - Sunday
Characters: Bridget Mackenzie and Colleen McCourt
Location: Farmhouse kitchen
Summary: Bridget and Colleen get to know each other and talk about the world they lived in now.
Rating: PG
Bridget slowly made her way down the hall toward the kitchen, feeling the extra weight she carried with every step. At thirty-six weeks along she was more than ready to not be pregnant any longer, but would just have to wait until her passengers decided they wanted out. Feeling one of the twins shift, she glanced down at her stomach and gave it a rub with one hand while the other traced the wall. “Patience you two, food is on the way.”
The expectant mother reached the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of an unfamiliar face at the table.
Over the past couple of days, Colleen had been familiarizing herself with the building and her new companions. When she wasn’t helping out with chores and other work, she spent most of her time wandering around the area, trying to learn the layout of the place. There was also that strange, almost uncomfortable interim period that came with living with strangers that had already established a routine. Colleen did her best to try and fit in or stay out of the way while getting used to how things were done.
That afternoon she found herself at the kitchen table, bent over a small book she had found in the compound. It was a collection of Robert Frost poems. As she read them, she felt herself transported back to the east coast, back to New England. Frost’s love for the area seeped through the text on the page, and she ran her fingers over it as though she could soak her fingers in Massachusetts life. The sound of someone entering broke her trance and she looked up. A woman stood in the doorway, one she hadn’t had a chance to really talk to yet. She recognized her pregnant belly, though, and couldn’t help but smile.
“Hello,” she said.
“Hi there.” Bridget smiled. She’d heard they’d gained new people, but this was the first time she’d actually run into one of the two new women in the group. A bit surprising considering how cramped the space was getting, but stranger things had happened. She waddled the rest of the way into the kitchen and toward the stove, looking to see what was in the warming compartment.
“I’m Bridget Mackenzie,” she told the newcomer, glancing over her shoulder. “I heard we had new arrivals, settling in ok?”
“Colleen McCourt,” the redhead replied. “And well enough. Everyone’s been helpful and kind.” She smiled, watching the other woman amble around the kitchen. She felt a pang of jealousy; her womb had never been able to handle bearing children. But on the other hand, maybe it was better that she didn’t have a fatherless child to care for in the post-apocalyptic world.
“Um. Would you like me to make you something to eat?” she asked, almost shyly.
Bridget looked over at the other woman, a bit surprised at the offer. She wasn’t sure whether she should be pleased that Colleen had offered or annoyed that the redhead thought she needed help. “We usually have something hiding in the warming compartment, though these days I think I’ll eat anything not nailed down.”
Colleen smiled again, trying to nod her understanding though not really knowing what it was like. “It must be difficult to have pregnancy cravings in a place like this,” she joked, standing up and pulling out her chair.
“It hasn’t been easy,” Bridget responded, glancing down at her stomach. “There have been cravings I haven’t been able to satisfy, but at least I’ve managed to get enough to eat to keep these two growing like crazy.”
“It’s really no trouble, if you’d like... I’m big on feeding people. It’s kind of my ‘thing.’ My husband used to say that people would die from overeating rather than starvation in our house.”
Bridget hesitated a moment, then relented as she made her way toward the table and a chance to get off her feet. “Well, if you’re going to get up I might as well let you fix something.”
She set to work quickly, moving around the kitchen with familiarity -- it was the first place she had explored and she already knew where things were kept. She grabbed a can of beef stew and some plain white rice and set some water to boil. Simple, but filling. Colleen longed for the kitchen she once had, with its big island and gadgets -- a well-used and well-loved farmhouse kitchen. Once things were warming up, Colleen turned to face Bridget, leaning on the counter.
“So, twins, huh?” she asked, eyeing her belly.
“Yeah, pretty obvious huh?” Bridget sighed and let her hands rest on top of her belly now that she was sitting down, feet propped up on another chair. “Any day now really.” She watched the other woman bustle about the kitchen, Colleen certainly seemed to have gotten a feel for where everything was in the few days she’d been here.
“You look great, though,” Colleen said, adding the rice to the now-boiling water. “Pregnant women always look so beautiful. I know it’s cliche, but it does really seem like they glow from the inside out.”
“I don’t feel beautiful, but thanks just the same.” Bridget smiled at the other woman for the complement. She felt anything but beautiful but would take the kind words in the spirit they were offered.
“So where are you from?” Bridget could swear she’d heard the accent in the other woman’s speech before, but couldn’t quite place it. Somewhere on the east coast for certain.
“Massachusetts,” Colleen answered over her shoulder as she dug around for two bowls. “Grew up just outside of Boston in a suburb called Braintree. Dunno if you’re into history or not, but it was the hometown of John and Abigail Adams.” She stirred the pot of beef stew. “Anyway, went to college in Boston where I met my husband. We got married after I graduated and I moved up the coast to Gloucester -- he was a fisherman out of there. It’s the same town as that movie, ‘The Perfect Storm.’ My husband knew some of the guys that died during that storm.” Colleen knew she was kind of rambling, but it was nice to talk to someone, well, normal. As nice as Halcyon was and as helpful as she had been, she was a little odd. Bridget’s pregnancy was something that was familiar from the Time Before. A sign of every day life. Colleen took comfort in that.
“What about yourself? Travel far to get here?”
“Pretty far, but not quite as far as you.” Bridget nodded at the other woman’s words. “I grew up in central Pennsylvania, and I was working on my PhD dissertation on American history when the plague hit. My husband and I both taught at Penn State, he was an engineering professor there and I was teaching history, my department chair introduced us at a party actually.” She let out a small sigh as she pushed back the sadness that came whenever she thought of Jake, it was easier now than it had been months ago but it was still there.
“I guess you could say that these two ended up being his one year anniversary present to me, considering that’s when they were conceived.”
Colleen smiled sadly to herself, happy for and jealous of the other woman’s fertility. She scooped the now-fluffy rice into each bowl, then spooned the stew over it. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was a quick and dirty version of the homemade stuff she used to make in bulk on cold winter evenings -- real stick-to-your-ribs goodness that warmed from the inside. She handed Bridget a bowl and the younger woman gratefully dug into the meal, before plopping ungracefully into the empty chair next to her, blowing the steam off of her own food.
“I have a Bachelors in art history myself. Northeastern, class of 2000. Never did go to grad school, though... moved up to Gloucester with Liam and we wanted to start a family, but... well.” She spooned up some food, blowing on it more. “What was your dissertation on?”
Bridget felt a tad uncomfortable now. That made at least two members of their group that hadn’t been able to have kids, and here she was about to burst with twins. Awkward all around. She swallowed a bite of stew before responding to the question Colleen had asked. “It was on Pontiac’s rebellion just after the end of the French and Indian War, and how that impacted the Pennsylvania frontier.”
Colleen didn’t know much about American history, so she just nodded and smiled politely.
“What made you decide on art history?” And what made her give all that up to be a firsherman’s wife? Bridget was too polite to ask the second question, but it was there in the back of her mind just the same. She couldn’t imagine growing up in a city like Boston (or its suburbs) and then moving out to the middle of nowhere to ‘simply’ be a housewife.
She shrugged. “I grew up helping my parents run their hardware store. There was a local artist who used to come in -- he did really ‘post-modern’ stuff, you know... and he’d come in and by screws and hammers and whatever random thing for his art. I always talked to him, and when he saw I was interested in what he did, he gave me a book about art. One of those big coffee table books with all the glossy pictures.” Colleen took a bite of her food before continuing. “I spent a lot of time after that soaking up everything I could and taking art in high school.” She fondly remembered the artist, Mr. Thatch. She wondered if he had survived the outbreak.
“Did you ever do any projects after college?” Bridget couldn’t hide her curiosity now that she knew a bit more about the other woman’s background.
Colleen sighed, the sound half full of regret and half full of good memories. “No. Liam proposed to me after I graduated and I moved up the coast. I taught an art class at the community center but... I don’t know. I was happy helping him run his boat and keeping a house. I had a lot of art supplies and I painted and sketched a lot but never anything worth showing to anyone.” She smiled sadly. “How much more did you have to do on your dissertation?”
“I had just finished the rough draft when things started getting bad.” Bridget glanced down at her bowl for a moment. “At first I thought I’d be able to start on it again in a few weeks, once we recovered. But people kept dying.” First her mother, then Calleigh, then others. “Eventually it just became...irrelevant, I guess. I suppose I could try and do it here, but I don’t have all the research materials that I did back at Penn State.”
“I suppose that would make it tough,” Colleen replied, getting up and washing out her empty bowl. She was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. What if it was irrelevant? What if there was never any reason to publish a book, or make art, or any of it? Suddenly Colleen was very afraid and very depressed. She didn’t look up from what she was doing; speaking to her busy hands, she asked:
“Do you think anything will ever be rebuilt? Or are we destined to live in this primitive way forever?”
Bridget opened her mouth to say something, then closed it for a moment as she pondered the other woman’s words. “Forever is a long time,” she said at last. “I think our generation, and our children’s generation might have it rough, but if we’re lucky we’ll rebuild.” It depended on what sorts of groups won out in the end. “There’s going to be a dark age no matter what we do, but with a bit of luck we can keep it short.”
“Like going back in time... if the pilgrims could do it, we can do it, I guess.” Colleen gave a little chuckle as she sat back down, trying to shake the heavy feeling that had settled in her gut.
“So, your husband,” she started. “You said the babies were his anniversary gift to you. Is he... is he here too?”
“No.” Bridget looked down at her stomach and let her hands caress it, feeling the children inside. “We were separated the next morning. There were five of us left in our group: Me, Jake, my youngest brother Mikey, Jessica and Debbie. We were travelling to Las Vegas, because of the dam, and some religious wackos spotted where we’d camped out that night. They were there just as we were getting ready to leave, and Jake and Mike ended up buying time for the rest of us to try and escape.” Her voice was quiet as she told the tale, feeling like her heart was being ripped out again by talking about it. “I ran and didn’t look back, and I haven’t seen any of them since. I’m pretty certain Jake and Mike are dead or they would have found me while we were in Vegas.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Colleen replied quietly, grasping the other woman’s hand for a moment. She was lucky that she hadn’t met any of these crazy people that she’d been hearing about; she met a couple just far enough outside of Vegas that they were able to warn her of the city’s dangers and she could take an alternate route.
“I know what it’s like not to have... closure.” Colleen looked down at her own hands now, picking her nails. “Liam left me just as the virus started to take hold. He was out on a trip on his boat. There was no radio communication from them, so a search party went out. They couldn’t find the boat or the crew. They say he’s dead, and he probably is, but I pray every day that he’s safe somewhere else away from this mess.”
That was something they had in common then. Bridget nodded in understanding and sympathy. It was the not knowing that was the worst, even though both women knew in all likelihood that their husbands were dead. She wished she could pray, but her faith had died over a year ago along with her sister.
Bridget really couldn’t think of any further response to that train of thought, so she changed the subject a bit. “At least we were lucky enough to fall in with the right bunch of people, yeah?”
“Definitely,” Colleen agreed, feeling a surging sense of warmth at Bridget’s suggestion that she was welcomed here. “It was nice to finally speak to you, but I’d better be on my way and see if there’s anything I can help with.” She smiled and stood; just as she was about to walk out, she paused and handed Bridget the book of Frost poems. “I dunno if you’re into poetry, but he’s one of my favorite. Makes you feel a little more normal.” With another shy grin, she left the kitchen.