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She had gone along with what was normal for the household. The weeks following everything leaving her in a haze barely conscious of what was happening to and around her, anything that wasn’t Caitlyn. Simply let herself be swept away by it. By process and formality and a life so foreign to her. Once the numbness started receding she found it gnawing at her. How passive she'd become. The desire to do something, find her own routine, anything that gave her some kind of purpose.
Cooking just came to mind one of the days. Something she hadn't done for years now. Even the thought of slowly unbinding herself to the current stagnant routine felt a possibility at improvement. So the idea of at least making her own breakfasts came.
“Our chef would have no trouble adjusting to schedules.” Caitlyn returned at her bringing it up.
“No I’d- well there’s more reasons to it. I kind of just want to do it myself, y'know.”
She couldn’t have made sense of it in words, but Caitlyn had been understanding. Given her room for what she wanted and didn't want to take from the life she'd brought her into. Known she'd been wading through a sea lacking meaning.
“Well if you’re sure. Of course." A thoughtful look took her face. "Should I ask to have anything specific prepared?”
“Just a pan I can use and any leftovers. I’ll get the rest.”
The first morning she enters the kitchen to find pots and pans already set aside by staff per Caitlyn's request. It’s unnecessarily large as with the rest of the mansion, but the lack of embellishments common to other rooms make it seem even more so. Everything pristine in both cleanliness and organization. Meticulously managed. Containers dated and labelled. A board with schedules and directions for upcoming events hung by the door.
Vi opens drawers and cabinets, picks up pans for one she likes the weight of, tests the flame on the cooker, slowly making her way from point to point across the marble flooring. She moves to the spice shelf, noting the familiar and unfamiliar and what was absent. Making mental substitutions from long unused knowledge.
She starts putting something together. Slipping the pan onto the stove top and setting the heat.
It wasn't as if she wasn't aware of the scope of it. Of the vast difference between her and Caitlyn and where they’d come from. She still lingers on the proof of it in the nooks and crannies of their newly forged life together. Standing in the kitchen now was no different. She’d known it was there in the dishes she'd been served, but it was all laid out in front of her here. The abundance of fresh produce and quality cuts of meats that were served on daily basis.
She cracked eggs to the heated pan, adding more butter and starting to scramble, seasoning and adding sliced meats to the side as she went.
It made her think of life in the lanes. Freezing bread and meats for months. Pickling and preserving and sealing in jars so what was there could last longer. Ingredients that were used for cheap, others because it was all there was. Making use of rinds and carcasses.
Living in these walls was a constant reminder of that lived difference. A weight on the soul that must show on her face at times, because it did on Caitlyn’s when she looked at her. Hanging sadly in those moments values didn’t align.
She put the food to plate and picked up a fork, digging in where she stood. It was simple and her skills hadn’t improved a day since her teen years, but she had made it. It was grounding.
That evening she found cookbooks stacked on the bedside table while Caitlyn was working late. All recipes far too elaborate and removed from the simple home cooking she had no desire to stray from, but the gesture was sweet. She flicked through them anyway.
Despite the idea having come in part from a desire to change schedules, she found Caitlyn joining her in the kitchen had become routine, even though timing made it so the woman herself was frequently waiting for her own meals. She’d take a high stool to the kitchen island and some book or document to busy herself with, but Vi knew it was mere disguise and her eyes were on her more often than not.
She’d ask questions. What dishes she didn’t recognize were. What Vi was used to making and what she liked. Sometimes Vi didn’t know what an ingredient she was using was and admitted she was winging it. Caitlyn was always surprised at that.
“You ever cook before?” Vi threw at her one of the days.
“No, never.”
The answer Vi expected, but there was truly not an ounce of shame in how she said it. She managed to suppress the amusement.
“When did you start?”
“Hmm, can’t remember how old, but I was a kid. Real young.” Tracing memories led to hazy beginnings. "Cooked for myself and Powder when my parents weren't home, then my brothers."
Words of interested acknowledgement and then she went silent, watching Vi's hands as she took a spatula to what was sautéing in the pan.
“Would you cook for me some time?” Caitlyn asked, before second thoughts immediately flickered across her face, as if the words had come without enough consideration. “Only, if you don’t mind of course.”
“What?” Vi blanked. “I mean, sure, if you want. Can’t do anything fancy though.”
“That’s fine. Whatever you’re already making for yourself.”
She spends the rest of the day with it at the back of her head. Considering the meals she'd been rotating through for herself and which would run by Caitlyn to best results. Thoughts went to the pastries from stores lining the streets of the city and those ones Caitlyn liked, laden with jam and fruits. Ideas melding into one, she settled on something.
Caitlyn tailed her to the kitchen next morning as usual and took her seat at the high stool while Vi got to work. Washing fresh produce, reducing fruits and sugars to sauces over heat while mixing and setting the batter. Tasting and adding as she went.
Whenever she turned around Caitlyn was watching. She’d give a smile and it sent the familiar warmth spreading through her stomach that it often did, returning a small one back by reflex.
She heated butter in the pan and poured the batter in batches. Removing each as they were done. Finishing the last one she slipped it from the pan and plated everything.
It was a simple stack of pancakes. Sauce made from berries poured to the center and let drip down sides in streaks. More fruit decorating the top.
“You asked for this alright Cupcake? I’m not accepting any complaints.” She slid the plate out in front of her and threw her hands up jokingly.
“I am fully aware of that and will not.” Her return came flatly, turning the plate to take it in from different angles. “Hmm... they’re thicker than the ones you get here.” She picked up knife and fork and cut in.
All of a sudden Vi grew anxious watching her bring the food to mouth. It was silly. She’d seen this woman eat three square meals by trained personal chef on the daily- she’d had those meals herself. Noticed the balanced craft where taste and elaborate construction didn't compromise substance. She knew this was not going to compare. And yet.
She put it in her mouth, started chewing and raised a hand to wipe the slight drop of sauce that caught on her lip. Focus on her face obvious as all attention went to what she ate.
“It’s really good.”
The words came simple. There was no exaggeration, no pretending or false flattery to spare feelings. Just genuine appreciation for what it was.
“I like this. Yeah.” Words came slowly, ruminating as her posture slackened ever so slightly. “Like it a lot.”
Light lit up her uncovered eye, and the warm smile on her lips suggested the significance she found there meant much more than taste or texture. More than any appeal to the palate. Vi felt love beat in her chest.
She saw it then. Traces of the woman she’d known mere days before tragedy and cruel reality had taken to her immaculate canvas. The awkward innocence. Points of origin of the love of her life.
“I’ll do it every day- every meal. Whatever you want.” The words had left her before she realized, chasing the threads of the moment. Eagerness too obvious to her own ears and heart pounding.
Caitlyn went wide-eyed, then broke into laughter. Pretty and clear like a bell and sending Vi’s pulse fluttering ever faster.
“Vi, you’re not even doing as much for yourself.” She shook her head with fond exasperation. “I wouldn’t ask that, but breakfast would be nice? When you want to.”
“Every day is when I want to.” It comes out sounding smooth this time, or at least she hopes so.
“If you’re going to be so insistent, then ok.” Caitlyn rolls her eyes, but gaiety rings in her voice as she relents, obvious that the insistence was welcome.
There were days where Vi felt she'd never work the same again. Feared the path behind them had left scars too deep and the road ahead too arduous and dissuading. But there had been hope in the wreckage, just as reflected by the recovering twin cities. Looking at the Caitlyn in that moment instilled a different kind of hope than she'd found in the crevices of months past.
Caitlyn kept eating, unaware of everything that was running through her mind from such a simple interaction as she took her time with each bite. Elegance in every wrist flick as she handled the cutlery. Paused to hook hair behind an ear when it slipped across her face.
Ghosts of Powder sitting on their shabby comfortable sofa lingered at the back of her mind, spoon in hand and shoveling what Vi had made into her mouth without a thought. The most natural thing in the world. What was in front of her now was different, wasn’t lesser or more, but shone with something that illuminated endless possible paths to a future.
The vivid morning sun scattered light through the high windows, drawing lines over flooring and cabinets. Vi stepped back to let herself rest against the counter, tucked hands into the pockets of her pants and watched Caitlyn fondly.
"Should we bring in a small table? The dining room is a lot for twos or threes don't you think- honestly, I always have. How did you dine with your family? Or perhaps we could..."