Chapter 9 #2
I shook my head, distracted by the food and the overwhelming number of conversations around me.
A tingling sensation tickled my wrist, then up my arm.
I scratched at my sleeve just for the itch to crawl up my spine, then raise the hairs at the back of my neck.
A sharp noise from the racket flew in and out of my audio purview, teasing me like a low-flying gnat.
Even the smells were too strong, each step inviting new scents, both pleasant and unpleasant.
Further into the market was fresh produce, then meat. Fresh-caught haddock and salmon, fully butchered and ready to be taken home in the oily brown paper. Suddenly, I did not mind the pine scent to the fishy odor. The market was my least favorite activity. I begged not to attend.
“The stress isn’t good for you—”
“The only one stressing me is you,” I snapped at her.
She squeezed my arm, her nails digging into my bicep, “You will wear yourself down to the bone, and I will not be the one to clean up the scraps.”
“Oh?” I raised a brow at her. “Be honest, dear friend, haven’t you always been the first to pick at scraps? You’re always in for a long haul.”
A sneer pulled at her pink lips before it transformed into a less-than-sincere smile, the look in her eyes sharp as they narrowed on the new movement.
“Did you see the wreaths on the north side?” Adeline asked excitedly, pulling her pearl white gloves tighter over her wrist.
“You know how I feel about decor,” I mumbled, plucking a cigarette from my purse.
“We know how you feel about extraneous spending,” Rebecca said, a small grin playing on her lips as she squeezed one of my shoulders. “We can make them. I know we have a few good fir trees on the property.”
“Give Alina a break; you know she’s not one for crafts.” Adeline pinched Rebecca’s arm.
“Oh! We could add some ribbon if we ask Cordelia for any scraps,” Phoebe offered.
“Did either of you purchase any food for this week?” I interrupted, sucking on my cigarette.
“Not yet—” Addie adjusted her bonnet impatiently.
“Isn’t that more important than decorations?” I mumbled, having to relight a match for another puff.
“It’s stew this week. I just need a few more herbs; the rest comes from my father’s shop. We just got in some cuts of pork.”
“Pork.” Phoebe wrinkled her nose.
“You won’t be eating the pork; why are you complaining?” Rebecca raised a brow.
“I don’t like the aftertaste in the blood,” Phoebe grumbled.
A soft-spoken mutter piqued from behind me, barely audible among the market chaos and the redhead in my ear.
Phoebe, Rebecca, and Adeline averted their eyes in unison, huddling the group closer together like startled geese.
“We can’t possibly be expected to hear you when you speak like a mouse, dear,” Phoebe said, withholding a smirk as best she could when Rebecca snorted, turning to hide the laughter.
I craned my neck over my shoulder.
Edith stood, admittedly a bit embarrassed, as she clutched a basket. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Snickering ensued beside me, and my head snapped in the direction of the girls, who pressed their lips and bit their cheeks as if they weren’t chittering to each other. Phoebe was unable to hide a subtle clicking.
“I’ll go—”
“No. Edith, walk with me.” I held my hand out, grasping at the air between us to urge her along.
I managed a glare in Phoebe’s direction before Edith caught up with my stride; one of mine was two of hers.
“I really can go somewhere else if you were in the middle—”
“They were on my nerves.” I sucked on the last bit of burning paper before flicking it into the snow.
“Speaking of . . .” Edith began, rummaging through her basket before pulling out a small jar.
“What is that?”
“Christmastime gift.” Edith smiled, a blush glowing in the apples of her cheeks.
I held the small jar up. Small, dried flowers with a dusting of warm pollen powdering the inside of the jar. “Cannabis?”
“I-I heard you weren’t sleeping.” Edith glowed with excitement. “And before you say it! I didn’t spend any!”
“We already steal too much from the hospital.”
My words made her nearly physically stumble. “But we give a lot to the hospital too.” Her voice became shaky with uncertainty. “I just thought—”
Edith bit the inside of her cheek, unable to say what she needed.
I pulled Edith in, my arms wrapping around her shoulders.
I squeezed her frail body gently. “Thank you; I will use some tonight,” I said before she could throw herself into an anxious rant.
Just the words thank you seemed to calm the flighty thing.
She was well-meaning, even if it was an invasion of my privacy.
“Did I do something wrong?” she muttered into my cloak.
“No, no. Everyone is just anxious. Holidays and all.” I glanced down at her. “How are you doing?”
“Can’t find the will to sleep either. I may join you if you light any of that.” She looked up suddenly. “I have an idea for an experiment, if you’ll entertain it.”
“An experiment?” I raised a brow. “I told you we can’t afford to do anything too skewed from what we norm—”
“It won’t demand any more personnel, just myself! I can do it! The great thing about its design is that it doesn’t require any materials, per se—”
“Alina!” Phoebe shouted from across the market.
The group was gathering by the entrance, prepared to depart.
“Another time, Edith,” I mumbled, waving her along as we approached to leave.
Even from afar, the palpable flare of fire in Phoebe’s face made her annoyance all too obvious.
She wasn’t good at hiding her feelings, and it was obvious from the beginning how she felt about Edith.
Though she never acted out toward anyone else.
Petulant, at best. But it was a problem best solved back at home.