Making Bread

[polly_okeefe]

Mother made bread when she was upset. I was not upset. I was just making bread. Honest. No, really.

It had been over a month after I'd confused the heck out of poor Bridge, and he'd asked that we stop dating and go back to just being friends. I'd agreed, because... that's what he'd wanted. And if he was happy, I was happy. We were still friends. We

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[drownondryland]

Meredith bites back a laugh. Funny as it is to her, she knows the mood too well, and no one appreciates being laughed at during it. Wandering in closer, she heads over toward the coffee pot, glancing at the girl with a grin.

"I know the feeling," she says wryly. She's had it plenty herself of late. "Sometimes you've just gotta hit something. At least you can eat the results."

[polly_okeefe]

My breath came out like a hiss. Yup, it was a complete public embarrassment. But at least the person who'd seen it all had seen it all, as it were. "Thanks," I said, ruefully. "You're welcome to have some when I'm done."

I looked up at the woman. I hadn't met her before, but I think she worked at the clinic. "I'm Polly, by the way. Polly O'Keefe."

[drownondryland]

It's nice, Meredith has to admit, to be right about the girl's intentions. True, the muttering had kind of given her away, but for a moment after speaking, she'd realized she might well have just been projecting. She's got a bad habit of doing that.

"Nice to meet you, Polly," she says, pulling the coffee pot out only to realize it's empty. Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Meredith sets about putting on a fresh pot. It's about the one thing she can do in a kitchen that doesn't involve a microwave. "I'm Meredith. Grey. And I'd like that, thanks. I cannot cook to save my life, nevermind baking."

[polly_okeefe]

I gave the woman a sympathetic smile. "It's not for everybody, I guess. And fortunately we don't often need to. Mother only baked bread when she was upset." I looked down at my flattened dough. "Like mother, like daughter, I guess."

[drownondryland]

There are far worse traits to inherit from one's mother, Meredith knows all too well. There are far less productive ways to deal with being upset, too. That doesn't make being upset any better. "Better bread than people," she says, smiling. "It looks therapeutic. Some guy piss you off?"

[polly_okeefe]

I sighed. Then I looked up at her. "Sort of, yeah. It's unfair of me, I know. I pushed things. But he just wants to be friends."

[drownondryland]

Meredith nods, getting that. Nine times out of ten, it's a man, at least in her life. Leaning back against the counter to wait for the coffee, she gives Polly a grim smile.

"They like to say that," she says. "It's kind of a silly thing to say. Like you're just magically gonna stop feeling whatever because he wants to be friends."

[polly_okeefe]

"Well," I said, "In his case, he means it." He is honest and true, Bridge is. And he didn't slam the door on us getting closer, either; it just made him too confused and he wanted time to work things out. With a chalkboard.

But truth to tell, I wasn't absolutely sure of my own feelings either, except that there was something _there_, and with this Island putting time and relationships at a premium, a big part of me decided it had to explore, before it was too late.

"But what can you do, except bake bread?" I added.

[drownondryland]

Meredith's own solutions had included everything from tequila to inappropriate one night stands, often together. She's pretty sure that's not advice she ought to pass on to Polly here.

"Not a whole lot," she agrees with a laugh. "Keep moving on. Eventually someone'll want to be a lot more than friends and until then, you're probably better off without it anyway." Then again, she supposes, that's easy for her to say. She's been one of the lucky ones.