give it too much thought [kate]

6 july 2003 // chelsea

Edith was shit at giving gifts, or trying to do romantic things, or-- anything, really, that a good girlfriend should have been able to figure out after two years. Then again, it was kind of working in her favor now considering she only had to plan to make a ‘fancy’ dinner -- her choice of words, though anything was fancy compared to the boxed noodles she could make on a normal dinner -- but then again again these Chelsea gourmet grocer prices were ridiculous.

She’d gotten a recipe from a friend -- never mind how awkward it was to ask for help for birthday gifts for her boyfriend -- and it seemed like fairly standard British fare so she thought maybe getting better ingredients… Edith wasn’t having any luck finding a ‘good neep’ or knowing what the fuck consititued  ‘good neep’ or-- she’d had neeps and tatties at school (or so she was told by her Scottish best friend at the time) but it hadn’t come with an explanation for what she was actually eating. It wasn’t the only thing on her list she couldn’t find but she wasn’t in the mood to ask the clerk for help, either, so she wandered the shelves idly, reading packaging and signs (and prices). It wasn’t like she had anywhere to be, besides; Elias was in Germany (family dinner) and she hadn’t made plans otherwise as if that’d give her the motivation she needed to do some writing.

It hadn’t been too busy in the store -- near closing on Sunday evening -- so when she rounded the next shelf (again) Edith noticed the new customer; recognized her? It took her a second (of staring) before deciding that yes, her tipsy memories were accurate. It took her another second to decide not to turn around and go back the other way, having made it most of the day without having to talk to anyone, but-- she’d been making the effort to be more social, so: “Hiya, you’re Emma’s friend, right?” She was pretty sure she was right, anyway; they’d met a couple times now, having drinks with Emma, had maybe one conversation that Edith couldn’t really remember but that was only because it had been after a few drinks. “Kate?” She hoped it was but if it wasn’t she hoped it was something way more complicated than a one syllable name that could be believable forgotten.

Edith caught the other girl’s eye and offered a crooked smile. “Weird question, but do you know what a neep is?” She twisted her torso so the basket of her successfully found ingredients was more visible. “Last thing on my list.” She sniffed, straightened herself out. “I don’t usually shop here,” she added with a shrug, figuring she looked out of place in the neighborhood, jeans, t-shirt, worn trainers.

@Kate Baker

Kate wheezed an uncharacteristic sigh sifting through batches of organic cilantro, imported directly from El Salvador. It wasn’t that one of her favorite herbs was lacking, and usually picking out excellent produce was a source of joy for Kate, but she felt low. She idly thought that she should plant a real garden in her “garden”, which was what English people called any semblance of a backyard they had, once she nailed down a property here to buy.

She liked Chelsea well enough, but she wasn’t going to be completely distraught if she had to part with it, either, especially after the whole Lethifold incident. She found the universe to be cruelly ironic in that Lethifolds were also called Living Shrouds, which reminded her vividly of Banshee.

Kate was good enough with finances and money, and knew her way around a contract, of course--but the grit that it took not to be seen as a stupid girl who had no idea about anything was exhausting. As long as she could score a nice place in a safe, quiet neighborhood where paparazzi wouldn’t be perching on her front porch day and night, she’d be happy. (In reality, she was a lot more picky than this, but she had the idea in her mind she wasn’t difficult in this manner.) That didn’t seem like an absurd set of requirements, but finding something was turning out more difficult than she’d anticipated. Kate was hoping to have it all cinched up by the end of the week, but she was becoming more depressed at the growing possibility she’d have to stay in her monster house for longer. Perhaps she’d have to lower her standards.

She tipped her chin up when she felt a set of eyes on her and actually prayed it wasn’t somebody who was going to heckle her or bother her, and when she heard the woman’s voice, her perked ears (and rigid body) relaxed. “Oh, hi,” Kate said warmly, offering her a big, California-girl grin, “Yes! I’m Kate. It’s so nice to see you again, Edith.”

Being good with names was imperative in the industry, and Kate always thought it was kind of lazy not to be. Someone’s name was the first thing one should remember a person by, right? She supposed some people were just more forgetful than others, but Kate actually found it exceptionally rude when people didn’t even try to be correct when addressing somebody. It wasn’t really a way to make fast friends.

“A neep!” Kate laughed, “I actually do know what one of those is. I didn’t know until I asked Char--my ex, what neeps and tatties were, and then after that I had to ask the store clerks about what all the crazy names were for their vegetables.” She floated over to the turnips and gestured broadly, as though proud of their mutual discovery, at them. “It’s a turnip. Nip, neep--I don’t. Know.” Nip. She’d just said nip in public, so, that was strike one-thousand of making a fool of herself in public or around people she was trying to get to like her. Her cheeks flushed pink in record time.

“Is. That… what you’re making? The neeps and tatties thing?” She admired Edith’s comfortable style. She looked hardly as relaxed in a mini dress and snakeskin stiletto boots, but it was July, it was nice out, and she’d been lounging around the house in sweats and leggings too much to feel like a person as of late.

Edith smiled; she’d gotten her name right. Would have been awkward seeing as she’d apparently remembered Edith’s name without any issue. “Hi,” she repeated. “You too.” She was lousy at best with conversation, worse when it was a friend-of-a-friend she hadn’t figured out yet.

No better topic of conversation than produce, though.

Kate laughed, said she knew about neeps and tatties -- Edith, too -- and that she’d then asked store clerks; Edith made an ‘o’ shape with her mouth because asking people -- present company excluded -- was the last thing she wanted to do. She followed her through the aisle, eyes wide as Kate motioned at the turnips. “Shit, no kidding?” The sign called them swedes but they were fucking turnips. She picked one up -- it looked good enough for a ‘good neep’ to her -- and tossed it into the basket she was holding, turning back to Kate just in time to see her blush; was it because she swore? Edith grimaced softly, happy for the change of subject (back to) neeps. Turnips.

“No, I’m making a roast.” She sniffed. “Trying to, anyway.” She nodded. “And roasted turnips. I can’t cook but it’s my boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow so I got a recipe from a mate--” from Fergie; she’d have to thank him for sending her on a neep hunt-- “Scottish,” she said, doing her best go at the accent, as if that’d explain the neep confusion.” She shrugged again, unable to find the middle ground by saying too much and saying nothing at all.

She switched hands holding her shopping basket and glanced down at Kate’s empty ones, holding nothing. She glanced back up with a smile, feeling pretty bad about interrupting her shopping. “I can let you get back to it.” She tilted her head toward the produce in general. “Drinks sometime, yeah?”

She was making a roast. Why were British people so obsessed with that word and, by association, that cuisine? English food wasn’t bad. Kate assumed that roast extended to Irish food, Scottish food, Welsh food, whatever, but she didn’t have enough knowledge on the subject. Again--it wasn’t terrible, but she found other types of food to be so much more interesting, and so much more flavorful. Thinking about cilantro (again) with some good chilis and zesty lime made her mouth water. She’d have to stop by the international market later to pick up some chili-watermelon suckers, she’d decided. Her stock was running low, and if she had a preference of how she was going to get acid reflux, it would be via rebanaditas.

“I don’t know that much about Scottish … food, either,” Kate said dumbly, and looked awfully woeful for a person who barely knew Edith. How was it being an adult and not cooking very well? Perhaps other people’s parents just respected it wasn’t a hobby for everyone. It felt halfway like an obligation to her sometimes, but ultimately it was a pleasurable experience for Kate to make other people happy with her cooking. If it was only a chore, why were so many women forced to do it to maintain decent-partner status?

“Oh, no, I wasn’t.” Kate made a face and shook her head, “doing anything important, really. I just came out to poke around out here. I like going to these little artisanal markets that they have in the nicer neighborhoods,” She smiled. Kate could be poor with expensive taste for all Edith knew. Since being with Charlie, she sort of felt like her wealth and privilege were things to be ashamed of, so Kate tried not to mention such things unless they were directly relevant to conversation. Why she should be ashamed of having a good upbringing (monetarily) and her accomplishments, she wasn’t sure, but there was still a residual feeling of guilt when it came to talking about them with people who weren’t also rich. A split second later, Kate realized it was rather presumptuous of her to assume that Edith wasn’t.

“Um, I’m. Not doing anything this afternoon, if you wanted to just. Go together?” Like, now. Kate hoped it was evident enough what she meant. Making friends was sort of essential to putting down roots in a place, and if she was considering buying real estate here, might be nice to have personal connections as well as prospects if she was ever interrogated about her choice to do so.

“I hope that’s not weird,” The witch added, smiling smally at her counterpart, “I totally get it if you’re too busy with preparing for your boyfriend’s birthday.”

Edith nodded to agree; she’d been poking around Chelsea for the better part of the afternoon — though half of that was probably due to the neep confusion — and kind of liked the markets (when she wasn’t needing to buy anything). “Yeah, I thought getting some nicer stuff to cook with couldn’t hurt.” She shrugged, figured that sounded a little stupid; nice, burnt ingredients would still be inedible. But she returned Kate’s smile, putting that problem off ‘til tomorrow. Edith was trying to be better at socializing, see people she didn’t live with, and she was nearly pleased she’d run into someone (she’d had too few drinks to be completely pleased).

“Yeah?” She must be getting really good at socializing if Kate was hinting at a drink right now. Then again she was probably jumping to conclusions and— Kate more or less confirmed it and Edith shook her head. “God, no.” It wasn’t weird. She was just going to go home and drink, anyway. “This was all I needed to do today.” She lifted her basket a couple inches. “Lemme just..” She tilted her head toward the till, moving toward it after another second to check out.

Groceries stuffed in her backpack, she turned back to Kate with a small smile. “There’s a place across the street?” She’d seen it in her wandering, one of those pubs that looked like it wasn’t a chain to fool the tourists but really was (and as much as Edith hated to admit it, they’d probably have some good starters). It’d be drinks at Chelsea prices but any other suggestion would have required walking — or taking the tube because Edith thought it was dumb to apparate within London for some reason — and she had no idea how Kate was even upright in those shoes, let alone how she could walk in them. 

“First round’s on me,” she said, leading them out the door and down the sidewalk to wait at the corner for the light to change. “You’re liking London alright?” She didn’t think she’d asked yet in their brief conversations before or if she even knew how long Kate had been in town or.. she should be congratulated for getting her name right, if nothing else.

“Yeah, sure,” Kate nodded and offered Edith a smile that actually reached her eyes this time. Smiling was nearly obligatory to be polite in social interactions, and maybe not everyone could tell if they’d been consciously fabricated or not, but Kate almost always could. Smiles that happened because of genuine instinct always felt better, too.

Kate got in line at the other quaint little cash register to purchase her herbs, and contemplated where to put them. She’d been under the impression she’d be going straight home after this, but her house was only a couple of blocks away… Edith wouldn’t think it was strange to drag her along for that, right? Just for a quick minute.

Then she suggested a place across the street, and Kate nodded along without dispute. “Oh, yeah, that sounds great. I’ll just put the cilantro on the table and--hope the server doesn’t look at me weird.” She didn’t know what was going to set off a Londoner’s snobbiness.

Kate was proud that she’d worn heels often enough in the last two years to effortlessly keep up with Edith down the street in her sneakers. It was such a lowly little accomplishment, but in a way, it bolstered her self-esteem and made her feel just that much more self-sufficient. It was true that she definitely hid behind clothing and polished outer appearances to try and gain professional rapport with people, but she didn’t know another way. Men could show up to business meetings in black jeans and be taken seriously.

“Yeah, I like London.” Kate considered how to tell her new friend that she’d been here awhile. “The place I’m staying at right now is the first place I’ve lived here--alone, that is. I’ve been in London for like, two years, but. I haven’t lived by myself, so it’s kind of weird.” When they got across the street and up onto the opposite sidewalk, Kate pulled the heavy door open with one hand and held it open.

Edith laughed and looked at the herbs in Kate’s hand. “You’ll be alright,” she lied; there was no way to know for sure what they’d find weird but worst case scenario, they’d be written off as a couple of tourists and that wasn’t all that bad. Edith had kind of embraced it by now, anyway, taking a backpack everywhere.

She nodded along as she listened, watching the light across the street. She didn’t know why she was smiling; she barely liked London herself--she liked that it was so different from Lunt and she could walk for thirty minutes and not have made the same loop around the village three times, anyway--but she was happy that Kate liked it.
 
They started crossing the street as Kate continued--and Edith only glared at one driver who was creeping forward--and she nodded again. “Oh, I get that.” She glanced sideways, made sure she wasn’t walking too fast. She was about to go on and explain some more but it wasn’t a very big street and there wasn’t any time.

Kate grabbed the door and Edith went in with a soft, “Cheers,” taking a second to have a look around and pick a table--it was more of a sit down place than an order at the bar place--and she tilted her head toward a table by the far windows before she walked over to it and had a seat. She shrugged off her backpack and hung it on her chair as she considered grabbing a menu; it wouldn’t change her mind from a gin and tonic but she’d just spent an hour looking at groceries and her tummy gave a little rumble as she thought about it so maybe it wouldn’t hurt--

Their waitress popped up almost as soon as they had sat down and before Edith could have even grabbed a menu; she ordered her drink and waited on ordering food. Kate ordered hers and Edith waited for the waitress to leave before she backtracked a little.  “I had two weeks in between flatmates once--” her ancient, muggle flatmate had moved in with her great-grandson without much notice (per Edith’s memory) and it had taken some time to find a new one-- “Really weird.”