an interlude - shopping

[Enid Geraint] "Hi, Kage, it's Enid," said the message on Kage's machine. "We're shopping today. Meet me at Burton, yeah? Dad needs some new ski stuff." Just like that, as if she were talking to one of her girlfriends - and, in a way, maybe she is. Goodness knows, she doesn't have many of them these days. So, there she is - at Burton, in the men's section, eyeballing various ski and snowboard paraphernalia. [K. R. Jakes] flawwwww roll! [K. R. Jakes] There Enid is. And there is Kage. The (older, less gorgeous) redhead is in a different coat today, something with less sweep, something as gray as the sea with buttons as green with tarnish as a lucky coin at the bottom of a fountain, and she spies Enid before Enid spies her. She studies the men around Enid, wondering whether one of them is this Professor Geraint who's been mentioned a time or two, and walks up. Her boots are made for walking, and they sound against the department store's floor. It's Christmas, so there are crowds aplenty, washing up against everything, sparkly lights, 'tasteful' decorations, sales, and an atmosphere of noisenoisenoise. It wouldn't be strange if Enid didn't notice Kage until she was standing right behind the girl, reaching a hand out and tapping the younger redhead on the shoulder, saying, "Hey, Enid." [Enid Geraint] Professor Geraint is, in fact, not here - Enid's tapped on the shoulder and she starts just a little, but smiles when she turns to see Kage there. She's dressed nicely, different then Kage has ever seen her - no running clothes, no artfully worn jeans, but a nice skirt and top, complete with jewelry (a delicate gold chain leads to something beneath her shirt, and her ears have two holes each) and makeup. "Hey! I have something for you," she says, and reaches into an expensive designer purse to withdraw an envelope - green, with silver edging and silver ink curlicue-ing Kage's name across the front. "I was hoping you'd come. Shopping alone sucks." [K. R. Jakes] "Awww, what's this?" Kage says, taking her left hand out of her coatpocket to accept the green and silver envelope, to turn it over, to run her thumb across the ink. "A Christmas card?" For a brief moment, the Orphan (why do I have to choose? [You don't]) scrutinizes the handwriting. She smiles, halfly, though, and it feels good to be out of the house, away from the family, not doing any work, just away from ... well, away. With this girl, who is earnest and not necessarily [murderess] in control of herself. She apparently has no intention of openin the envelope now, because lo!, it is going into her purse (a well-worn, comfortable, raggedy bag with guess how many books and fraying tapestry print) unless there is some indication from the teenager that oh NO Kage you're supposed to open that RIGHT NOW. "And, well, I've been pretty busy lately, so I haven't had a chance to buy anything for my brother-in-law . . . He's always tough. And . . . hmm, maybe some . . . shoes. . . " [Enid Geraint] "It's an invitation, so don't forget about it," she says, and yes, she is earnest. "There's going to be baking. And maybe movies and popcorn and stuff, I haven't decided yet. But we have eight gazillion channels and pay per view, so it'll be an easy enough thing when everyone's there." Oh no, a girl like this couldn't possibly be [but probably is] a murderess. Burton is a skiing and snowboarding shop and is full of the trappings thereof; Enid has a pair of fancy looking gloves in one hand, and is looking over expensive looking sunglasses. "What's your brother-in-law like? And what kind of shoes?" [K. R. Jakes] Earnest Enid is Enthusiastic. (This is the alphabet book of the awakened population of Chicago. The letter are gilt, and for Enid, they are round and girly. There might be a doodled flower, or maybe a star.) "I won't," Kage says, a promise (she tries not to promise things she can't deliver, and this is little enough; something doable). "Who's 'everyone'?" Yes. The redhead is curious as to just what social group Enid is shelving her into. Indeed, Kage is curious about Enid. "And, well. He's a lawyer, he's very polished, but he has aspirations to 'rugged outdoorsman.' He likes to camp," she says, and then she smiles. The smile isn't quite wan, but it almost is. "Camping does not much like him. He's very solid, Cary. And he has a hatred for John Grisham books." What kind of shoes, Enid asks, and Kage is unused to buying men's shoes for men she isn't close to. [Cleave to me, don't.] "And I'll say ... sturdy shoes, warm ones for the winter. Shoes that could walk you across a bed of nails, if you were a fullgrown man." Her expression turned pensiveinward, and now that the envelope was safely tucked away in her bag, her hand goes back into her pocket. "What're you looking at?" A beat, and, "I almost didn't say, but you look really pretty today." [Enid Geraint] "Ashley and Emily," she says with a vague, airy wave. "You know, everyone. Or, well, just the girls. But still." That makes Enid the youngest by four years, and she doesn't seem to mind - in fact, she's used to being the youngest in a group, given her parents and her status as only child. "Dad has to give a talk in Indianapolis and mom's not coming back until the eighteenth, so I thought it would be fun. People can sleep over and stuff, if they want." It's a bit shy; she knows it probably sounds childish (I am a GROWN UP), but she can't seem to help it. "For shoes, we're going to have to go to another store. For the wanna be outdoorsman, though, there's stuff for winter camping trips here - snowshoes and some of the provisions. Sound good?" Then, there's the compliment and Enid blushes, but smiles, pleased. "Thank you. I figured it was about time to look halfway decent for once." [K. R. Jakes] "Hmm," she says, when names are dropped. Ashley is a name that Enid has dropped before, in a context that is liable to make Kage remember it. Emily, however. Emily is a name that means a couple of people she knows, and none of them she would immediately suspect Enid of knowing well enough (but how well is well enough?) to invite to a night of bakin and girly fun-having. "Where'd you meet them?" And then, "But ... Yes. A baking night sounds quite relaxing. I could use relaxing," she says, and Kage has this way, see. This way of becoming almost gorgeous (just about the eyes) when she smiles, and means it. Now, for instance. "Do people actually camp in winter around here?" Kage sounds half-horrified, half-amused. Kage likes the outdoors, she does, but she would not survive long without a great deal of luck if she were dropped off somewhere without civilization within reach. Her brother-in-law is a wannabe outdoorsman, but Kage isn't. Not yet. "Have you decided for certain on what you're getting your dad?" This is asked, with a glance at the ski equipment. Margot would kill Kage, the woman thinks, if she were to get anything so potentially Sonny-murdered-Cher for Cary. [Enid Geraint] "No, not really. But he loses his gloves and sunglasses all the time, so I thought it was a good start. And yes, people really go winter camping here. I've done it, but in Montana and Colorado and Michigan." Never in Illinois, for whatever reason. "Oh, and Wisconsin. There are some really nice places in all four states. "I'm also getting a gift certificate for waxings and sharpenings." There's a pause as she eyes some carabeaners and water bottles and things - good for really good skier/snowboarders, but not so much of the winter camping variety. "Ashley, I met in Grant Park when I was in the middle of a run. Emily, I met volunteering at a soup kitchen the day before Thanksgiving. They're both cool," she reassures Kage, and that could have so. very. many meanings. "I think you'll like them, maybe." Not, of course, that she really knows Kage well enough to make that assessment. It could be wishful thinking; the girl's been pretty well ostracized from her prior social circle, after all. [K. R. Jakes] The yuletime shopper does not stay still. Enid begins to eye carabeaners and water bottles. Things, things on rings, things for skiers and snowboarders. Kage stands behind Enid, who will (this is law of girl-shopping) start to move, following the faintest sign of a good product like a good little hunter-gatherer, or maybe she'll only drift hesitantly: point is, they'll start to move, just a little. And Kage will sweep her fingers through Enid's long red hair, twist it together into a pony tail, then untwist it again and stroke, harmless play. . . just as if she had a sister (well, she has a brother in law, apparently). "Since you're the expert, I'll rely pretty heavily on your opinion, I want you to know. I think 'winter camping,' and I think 'ah, a fireplace, in a nice, airtight cabin.'" She grins, but Enid can't see that. Then she says, "How was your Thanksgiving, anyway?" [Enid Geraint] "It was alright - same as always. Volunteering, phone call with Mom, football with Dad and the Professors," it has the ring of a band name, that does, and she smiles fondly when she says it. "Well, not quite the same. I didn't feel like cooking, and there was no hanging out with friends after. Just holiday specials all over TV." That's about the holiday, and with a shrug; she hadn't had a spectacular time, really. The toying with her hair gets a smile - she's never had a sister, but she's had friends. (And Enid is a good little hunter-gatherer; she finds a few things to add to her arm full of stuff.) "I think, rather than getting your brother-in-law a whole winter camping rig, I'd get him a pair of snow shoes and a pass to one of the places with trails. And for boots . . . well, work boots, I'd bet. Carharts, maybe?" [K. R. Jakes] "Mm, maybe," she says, and then she sees something that she goes to look at more closely. The something is various outdoor cooking implements, all stainless, all gleaming; another aisle down, a display topped in a red bow, all plush as blood in snow. She lets Enid's hair drift out of her fingers when she does this. Cary Fiennes is always difficult to shop for, and just thinking about Margot's husband, a moment's worth of (inscrutability) smokes through Kage's dark eyes. He deserves something he'd really love, something that wouldn't be like a subtle hint to get out of the house more. Kage acknowledges that she may be overthinking him. The boots, they're not for Cary. This she hasn't said, but her attention to them is a different sort've attention -- maybe a little sharper, less sure of finding a certainty. "Work boots. That sounds about right. Here," and she'll, effortlessly, and without getting permission, take a few things from Enid's little collection. Help her carry them. [Enid Geraint] "Thanks," Enid says, pleased; it's nice to have someone to shop with that isn't her dad, someone that allows her to pretend she still has friends, or has friends again. It's kind of sad how easy she is to please right now, really. "This isn't the place for practical stuff like work boots, really. But we can go somewhere that has them too, if you'd like." Which is to be read: I'm tired of having only my dad and his friends to hang out with and I'm tired of my old friends looking at me funny like maybe I killed someone and while it's nice that the papers have forgotten about me that doesn't mean everyone else has and it's very, very nice to have something like normalcy. "Has your brother-in-law tried geocaching? I've heard it's fun." [K. R. Jakes] "Let's go somewhere else," Kage says. "And -- " a pause. Then: "Do you celebrate Christmas?" [Enid Geraint] "Okay," Enid says, agreeable, and heads to the checkout to pay for what she's decided on for certain - a pair of overly expensive sunglasses, one of gloves, and a nifty water bottle that appears to hook onto snowpants somehow. Once she's paid, it's off and out; she's thoughtful about the Christmas question. "My mom's a vehement atheist. My dad was raised Episcopalian, but is non-practicing and it's hard to tell what he believes. I'm undecided. So basically, we buy each other and our friends presents and have nice parties and good meals. What about you?" [K. R. Jakes] "I'm agnostic," Kage says, and it is an easy answer. As easy as quoting Hamlet. Easier. Less syllables. Less beauty, too. More root. "More or less," a sense of rightitude compells her to add. "But I was asking more because I like ornament shopping, and we could pick up some baking-themed ornaments for your tree, if your family has a tree. We could also bake ornaments, I suppose! But that has always seemed such a tearable waste of gingerbread to me." At the checkout line, the older redhead put the items of Enid's that she was carrying down, and slipped both hands back into her pockets. Comfortable, she. And still, that arrogant (lilt) feminine sashay, makes walking like ease. "But - vehement, hm?" Both of her eyebrows rise, at that. "Well, well." [Enid Geraint] "Mom's . . . complicated. And yes, we usually do a tree - mostly, I think, because dad and I like the smell. And it's fun to sleep under it on the living room floor. We put it up the weekend before Christmas - so it's up at least a full week before - and take it down after." The 'why' gets a pleased grin, and Enid actually claps. "Baking-themed ornaments sound nice. Mostly, we just have lights, garland, and different colored balls." [K. R. Jakes] "This way, then. I know a good place for ornaments. It should," and she glances down at her watch: Kage likes watches, likes the complexity of them. Doesn't like having to dig for her cellphone when she wants to know the time, "should still be open. This time of year, the hours are late. Should we drop your stuff off in your car, first?" And Kage is leading the way, unless Enid demures.