At Anita's house, Wednesday night
It had actually been a fairly quiet day for Anita. With her classes cancelled for the week she'd found herself with too much time for just thinking... and it wasn't a day that she was thinking of repeating. She'd gone for a long jog, and had spent a few hours at Contender's sparring with a small asian man who spoke no english, and had made her hurt. When she'd gotten home she'd found the loft empty, a note on the counter from Nathaniel.
Gone out for the evening, will be back late, have fun with your friend.
Shit. She'd almost forgotten about that. Jumping into the shower she was barely out and dressed, her hair still up in a towel when the buzzer went.
Unfortunately, work had not been cancelled for Susan - and after her brief meeting with Anita in the coffee shop last week which is, omg, only handwavey, so don't go trying to look for a link that had filled her in on the very basics of the late twentieth century, John had mentioned seeing her this week... and she still hasn't watched the whatever was on the series of shiny little discs he had sent her last week when he'd had to cancel. While the discs looked as if they'd make excellent coasters, she had been looking forward to his presence - and perhaps more.
Either way, however, she needs to have a working knowledge of the social issues on those discs, or reveal that she'd been scared off by the technology, and the depressing subject matter.
She's usually scrupulously prompt for her social engagements, but she hadn't wanted to show up to Anita's with the stress of the day on her, so she'd run home rather than taking a taxi - nearly an hours' run, and then showered and redressed in more casual clothing. She's not particularly good at making female friends, and she doesn't want to lose Anita through her own agitated stress.
Towel out of her hair and over the back of a chair Anita stopped for a moment at the door to the main floor, breathing slowly, forcing herself to relax. Unlocking the upper door she took the stairs two at a time, checking to make sure it was Susan outside of the grey steel door before unlatching it.
"Susan, welcome, glad you could make it." She embraced the girl in a hug, smiling apologetically as she pulled away. "Come in, this isn't the apartment, the people who used to own this place were artists, so converted this floor into a studio. Other then working out and parking for my jeep, it doesn't get used at all." She points to the heavy metal stairs next to them, the heavy door at the top, "I'm up there."
Amendment: She's not good at making female friends, and she's really not used to being touched by them. Almost all Susan's touches are sexual, or with the possibility of becoming so, and so to be hugged like this - by another woman, in this chaste, friendly way... for a moment she doesn't know what to do with it.
"What a lovely idea," she replies, moving on the automatic rules of social graces as she works through that startled moment, never allowing it to show on her face. "To be able to work out downstairs from where you live - like your own private gym."
Anita can feel Susan tense, even if it's ever so slightly. Which is fine, until the pard and pack became a part of her life touch had never been anything comforting and casual. Pulling back she smiles, "Sort of, only I don't have any equipment, so I mostly practice my sparring down here. I should get some equipment, but I like the gym." She starts up the stairs, motioning for Susan to follow her.
The main floor is a completely different story, a large open space with wood floors, windows running down the far end near a lounge area, couches and a tv, bookshelves and a large video collection. The kitchen with it's open concept counters, and dining table closest to them. In the middle of the room another staircase leading to a floor only half the size of the warehouse. Underneath the stair is an office area, mainly a desk with a computer on it and two chairs pulled to it. 'Well, I keep thinking I need more furniture for all this space, but... It's home."
Susan looks around the apartment - simple, not exquisitely beautiful, but with an appeal of its own that's from an entirely separate world than Susan's designer home. She even recognises most of the things in it, familiar with computers from her work now, although still inclined to use them as typewriters with a backspace function. Gaze falling on the video collection, interspersed liberally with DVDs, she recognises the slender design of the cases. "These are really movies, right?" she asks, knowing she sounds foolish - but how else is she to learn? "Like you'd see at the theatre, but at home?"
Anita nods seriously, knowing this is a lot of the reason that Susan is here, "They are indeed, the thin ones are newer, they're dvds, the bigger ones are video tapes, rapidly becoming obsolete these days. The dvds are better." Walking across the room she scans her shelf, pulling out The African Queen, "this is a classic now, 1951, you might actually remember it." She holds the dvd and case out to Susan, "Want to see how it works?"
"I saw this," Susan murmurs. "In the theatres. Katherine Hepburn is such an amazing woman. Or was, I suppose I should say." She takes the case, and then hesitates a moment. "You don't, mayhap, have Little Women? It was another of hers, from when she was much younger?"
Anita laughs, "She was an amazing woman. When I was a little girl I wanted to be just like her, only, well... You get the idea. I have all of her movies, and Audrey Hepburn, Judy Garland, Laurence Olivier, Clark Gable, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly," She shoots a guilty look at Susan, "I'm a bit of an old movie buff," Reaching to the shelf she pulls out not Little Women but Guess Who's Coming to Dinner "You should watch this one. It was the last movie Spencer Tracy made before he died, with Katherine Hepburn, 1967, with Sidney Poitier. It's about an interracial marriage, and really, things have only changed so much. First academy award for a black actor too..."
"Judy Garland - you've seen The Wizard of Oz, then?" She takes Guess Who's Coming to Dinner from Anita, resting it on top of The African Queen, her fingers caressing the brightly coloured cover. An interractial relationship, and she can't help but think of herself and Doyle, a match that would have been utterly scandalous in her own time. "I would like to watch it," she decides, a small smile echoing the words. "John's given me a small stack of these to watch, but I must admit to being a bit overwhelmed by it all."
"Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable." She laughs, "I've seen the Wizard of Oz so many times that I can quote it backwards and forwards. John gave you a stack of dvds? I can imagine being overwhelmed by it all, but it was sweet of him. Do you want to start easy? We can get you working the technology and watching something familiar?" Smiling, she walks back across to the kitchen, "Can I get you drink? You're limited to diet coke, coffee, I know there's tea somewhere, Nathaniel likes it, and possibly some beer or wine."
"Wine, if you have a good vintage?" Susan requests - a little nervous about what Anita might consider a 'good' vintage. She's more hesitant about coffee, though. She's been served instant once since arriving in Metropolis, and vowed never to accept coffee from an unknown source again. "Something familiar sounds wonderful - but I suppose I should attempt something a little more educational. I tried to take a look at the first one on the list, Philadelphia, but it was just so terribly depressing. Movies are supposed to be entertaining!"
"You're in luck, the ex has this tendency to send things he thinks I might need, you know, 18th century dresses, wines of the last 40 years, that sort of entirely useful stuff." She rolls her eyes as she slides a pantry door aside, "I have a couple cabernet's from the barossa valley. Australia. late 80's. People seem to like them." She flips on the kettle for herself, taking coffee beans out of the freezer to grind, and the frnch press off the shelf, "Philidelphia? He didn't. That's a bit much, especially at first."
Susan looks at the frozen coffee beans, and her smile grows wide. "Real coffee. Oh, yes please." There's that fear done with, thank goodness! "He did. The other films were... oh," she pauses, calling up the titles in her mind. The faces of the actors on the cover come effortlessly, the names of the movies a little trickier to catch hold of. "Full Metal Jacket and If These Walls Could Talk. There were a few others as well - seven, to be precise. He'd specified order, but they all looked depressing, quite frankly, and it's been a long enough week without adding that to the mess."
She smiles as she grinds the beans, adding them to the press, then the water once it's boiled. "Real coffee, I won't drink anything else. With real cream, and sometimes real sugar. I have an espresso machine but I'll be damned if I can figure it out."
Her head tilts as she lists the movies, starting to laugh, "John did that? Well, i can see why, I think, those are all great movies, world changing, and defining, but... I'm more of a fan of happy movies, musicals, comedies, those things. I get enough doom and gloom in my life already."
Susan cocks her head, grinning mischeviously. "He was supposed to talk me through the things I need to know that have happened over the last forty years - just the large changes in society. If you don't mind giving me the highlights, though, I won't need to watch the films, and I can spend tomorrow night doing something both more pleasant and more productive." She offers Anita a winsome grin, the kind very few men have ever said no to her when she's worn - although she doesn't expect it to have the same effect on Anita.
"So the crib notes for 40 years?" She nods, "We'll need some paper and a pen, possibly the laptop and about 45 minutes. So why don't we order out for Chinese and by the time the food gets here we can throw on a movie. One of the light ones. How does that sound?" She pulls mugs from the cupboard, pressing down the plunger, "How do you take your real coffee anyway?"
"That sounds wonderful," Susan replies gratefully. "Black and strong, if you please. As close to espresso as you can manage." Forty-five minutes sounds far better than hours and hours of depressing films, and an almost imperceptible tension is lightened from her shoulders.
"I like it strong too, but with cream, like I said. Other then that," she pours, adding cream from the fridge, tucking the cordless under her arm before she grabs the two mugs, making her way back to the lounge. "If you open my bag there should be a pad a pen inside, I'll grab the laptop, we can order, and we're good to go."
Truly relaxed now she smiles as she sets the mugs down on the table, "Hopefully it'll be relatively painless."
Susan opens Anita's bag, as instructed, withdrawing the pad and pen without delving to examine the contents further. Privacy isn't something she has a particular respect for - but this is her friend, and it would be rude to pry. "Painless would be nice," she replies, a soft laugh at the understatement. "Either way, though, I appreciate the help."
She settles in on the couch beside Susan, laptop on the table next to the coffee, and smiles, "The first joy? Modern Chinese takeaway, it is your saviour, learn to love it." She picks up the phone and hits a button auto dialing, looking sheepish, "And autodial. I don't cook." her eyes drop as she speaks into the phone, "Hi, yes, yes, yes, that's my address, Two orders of crab rangoon, one of spring rolls, szechaun beef, special fried rice, lemon chicken, general tso's chicken, yes, in the bird's nest, and bbq pork. Oh, and some veggies in ginger and garlic sauce, light on the oil for everything. Actually, honey garlic spareribs too. Yes. Yes. 45 minutes, good." she still looks sheepish when she turns back to Susan, "I like left overs?"
"I've already discovered the delights of people who bring food to your door," Susan laughs. "Although leftovers I haven't risked. That all sounds wonderful, though. I do cook, when necessary - the delights of a classical education, and being female in the 1940s and 50s. I also hate it." Anita's selections sound spectacular, although she has no idea what rangoon is, who general Tso is and what his chicken might taste like, or why food would be served in a bird's nest.
"Food delivery is key to life today. And believe me, don't ever let me do more then toast a bagel. Coffee... that's different, it's an art form." Flipping the laptop on she nods, "Okay, where do we start. What date are we going back to?"
"October, 1960 was the last I knew. I know Senator Kennedy won the election, and was assassinated a few years later. I know that blacks and women have the vote." Quirking a grin and an eyebrow to Anita, she murmurs, "and there was a war in there somewhere. That's guesswork, though. There's always a war in there somewhere."
"You know, this seems easier in concept then in reality." Typing quickly in a search engine, she finds what she's looking for and nods, "Ahhh, timelines by decades. It'll be brief, but it's a good start., 1960-1969, here we go" She brings up the page, "Now, your job is to ask questions, my job is to explain."
"Campbell's Soup exhibit?" Susan murmurs as she scrolls down. "This was significant, was it?" Most of the names pass her by, meaning nothing. Martin Luther King Jr.? Nelson Mandela? Che Guevera? The medical details, though, catch her attention. "They can transplant hearts now? That's... very impressive."
"Actually, it was. It was the beginning of pop art in many ways, a whole new wave of minimalism and modernism. As for hearts.. Yes, they can transplant anything, and it's pretty hig survivla rate even. Why don't we handwavily go through the list? Stop me if I go too fast"
"Certainly," Susan replies. "Handwavily would be good. I will." They go through that list, and then the next one, Susan stopping Anita to get further explanation on the political matters - the aspects she needs to know in most detail. Some outbursts she can't help, including "dude! America has our bridge?" By the end of those two decades, her head is already swimming. Abortion is legalised, and babies can be formed in test tubes. England had a female prime minister as well as a Queen. Everyone seems to have been assassinated. They've landed on the moon, but the rockets keep exploding (which kind of makes you wonder why they keep trying to reach it - it doesn't sound like it was that interesting the first time), the Berlin Wall is down, polio is no longer a threat, but something called AIDS is... and the President doesn't like broccoli. Finally, shaking her head, Susan murmurs, "who chooses what makes this timeline? How is that relevant?"
"It's not, it's just... Human interest really. This timeline leaves a lot to be desired, but still..." She shrugs as the door buzzes, "It gives you the general idea. I mean, we want to get you caught up, not kill you with information." She smiles as she jumps up, "I'll be back in a second." Running downstairs she returns a few minutes later with two large bags of food, spreading it out on the kitchen bench, putting a bit of everything on plates for them, "You get no choices here, you have to try it all. Especially the crab rangoon."
Susan arches an eyebrow, but grins. "Broadening my horizons, Anita?" While Anita was gone she'd read through the last list, the 1990s. Nelson Mandela's out of prison, and President of a South Africa no longer apartheided, and that seemed like a very, very, very long time to be in prison. Asking the question most pressing on her mind, she says, "diseases. Not dinner fare, I know, but... AIDS, Mad Cow Disease, the Ebola Virus... what do I need to be worried about?"
"Yes I am, it's the least I can do." She carries the plates over easily, silverware and chopsticks tucked into her hand. She looks serious as she settles back into the couch, plates on the table beside the computer. "You... Well, sexually transmitted diseases are the worst really. You shouldn't have unprotected sex, unless you know for sure they are safe, not doing the same with anyone else, or something similar... I mean, use a condom, they had those, didn't they?" her brow furrows, "They likely weren't the same as they are now, but with AIDS, herpes, hepatitis, that sort of thing... It's better to be safe then sorry. As for the rest, keep clean, don't eat spoiled food and hang out with people who make biological weapons? A lot of the other ones are just scares really."
Susan pauses, her own chopsticks hovering over her food. "Unprotected sex? I... sorry, explain condoms to me?"
Anita looks worried now, and puts her plate down her gaze coming around to meet Susan's slowly. "Susan, seriously, as a friend. Have you been having sex since you got here? I don't want details or to scare you, but..."
"Some," Susan replies, a slow nod of her head. She doesn't plan on giving Anita details, so she's glad Anita hasn't asked for them.
Her eyes close almost involuntarily, and she nods, reaching for her bag she rummages around, finally pulling out a small foil square from a makeup bag, and handing it to her. "Did you use one of these?"
Recognition lights Susan's eyes, and she nods. "Once. My partner did. It all happened very fast, I didn't get time to ask him questions. Not... not every time, though. Just that once." Bugger.
"Shit." She shook her head, "Susan, there's no nice way to say this. In the past 40 years some things have gotten a lot worse. There was the whole free love movement, but in the late 70's early 80's? STDs, Sexually Transmitted Diseases came around. If you have sex once with the wrong person unprotected you can catch them, they can kill you, they can scar you, make you unable to have kids, have sex, make you hurt... And the thing is, sometimes they don't always manifest right away so people don't know that they have them Susan, so they can pass them on without knowing it, and other people... Well there are some cruel people out there." She pulls up another webpage, and then clicks print, the wireless printer on her desk humming, "Just, and believe me Susan, I'm not judging, my house is too glass walled to be able to throw stones at anyone, but has it been a lot of people? Could you find them?"
As often happens in times of emotional distress, a calm, courtly mask slides over Susan's face, her expression one of perfectly polite interest - but showing no fear or censure. Nothing that might give her away. "'A lot' is a relative term. There's been a few. Most of them I can find again, others I know where to begin. Is there a way of testing for these diseases?"
She nods, "You'll likely be fine, honestly, but getting checked out is the best thing to happen. Sooner rather then later. There's a clinic in Della Rosa we could go to. It's a women's medical centre, and they often do testing for the girls at the uni for free. She reaches out, touching Susan's knee lightly, "I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you, but it's serious, too many people don't treat it like it is, it's how they spread."
The slightest tension to her jaw is the only thing that gives away her distress, but her voice is polite and even as she responds to Anita. "Apparantly, given that only one of the gentlemen I've been with saw fit to use this device. For future reference, is there a protocol in its mention or application? Did they expect me to bring the subject up?"
Anita sighs, knowing she likely barrelled into this the wrong way, didn't think before she spoke. But that was nothing new for her. "Remember what we said about women's rights? Well, if a woman won't sleep with a man, she's a prude, and if she will she's a whore, it still applies to a degree. It sort of works that way with condoms too a lot of the time. Most guys will use them, and remember to, but people, forget, or they expect the girl to suggest it, and if they don't," she shrugs, 'So yes, a lot of the time? It is up to you to bring it up. Have one in your handbag and pull it out. It's always worked for me."
Susan nods, making a mental note to go by a selection of those condoms. "If I've been with the gentleman in question before, without one, is it still necessary? Or has the damage been done, so to say?"
"Not necessarily. They could sleep with someone else in the meantime, or it might not get transmitted the first time. It's better to be safe then sorry unless you're sleeping with them pretty much exclusively." Her thoughts flash back to John the other week, and she pushes it from her head. "They're also birth control, so that's a plus."
Finally setting in to eat her food, Susan contemplates this for a few minutes. She hasn't really been worried about birth control - she's reasonably certain she's infertile, anyway. "Thank you," she offers finally. "I think I ought to go to the clinic in Della Rosa. Would you mind accompanying me?"
Anita nods, "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out, but this..." She half smiles at Susan, "This is why we're having tonight isn't it? So things like this don't come up."
"They were bound to come up eventually," Susan replies, supplying the other half of that smile. "Better to know now than later - I am very grateful, Anita."
Picking up her plate she nods, "Well, think, it was an informative evening, in many ways. And you got to learn all about Andy Warhol. Next time? We'll cover music if you'd like. And indian takeway. It's more fun. Til then... Movie?"
"Andy Warhol," Susan nods. "The soup fellow." Perhaps not the most useful of the pieces of information she'd picked up tonight - but she's certainly grateful to Anita for helping her come to terms with the twenty-first century. "A movie sounds wonderful. Did we come to a decision on which one?"
She can't help but snort her laughter, "You're right, the soup fellow. Still, it's one of those things... I should have shown you his Marilyn heads. Another time." She smiles as she leans back into the couch, still picking at her food, "You pick. I think it's been a long night for you, so, whatever you want. though I do still recommend guess Who's Coming to Dinner."
"Certainly," Susan replies, her elegant style of eating somewhat out of place as they sit on the couch, each bite of food chewed a full thirty times before she swallows. "I must admit to some curiosity over how mixed-races became socially acceptable. In my day they were on a par with incest - and John assured me that taboo is still firmly in place."
She shoots Susan a wondering look for a second before shaking her head and trying to explain, "It hasn't in many ways. Oh, on the surface it tends to be, but even then... couples, families, they still have a hard time of it. It's also like women's rights, on the surface things are better, but underneath it's almost worse in some ways, the biases are just hidden now, driven under. It's a wonderful movie though, and still really relevant in so many ways."
"I wonder," Susan replies quietly, "whether it's better to be scorned in public, or to be scorned in secret." Truthfully, coming in this jump from forty-five years ago, she has little doubt that things are better now - for women at least. Yes, there may be a glass ceiling - but at least women are allowed into the building now. It's not perfect, but it's definitely progress.
[ooc: Played over IM]
Gone out for the evening, will be back late, have fun with your friend.
Shit. She'd almost forgotten about that. Jumping into the shower she was barely out and dressed, her hair still up in a towel when the buzzer went.
Unfortunately, work had not been cancelled for Susan - and after her brief meeting with Anita in the coffee shop last week which is, omg, only handwavey, so don't go trying to look for a link that had filled her in on the very basics of the late twentieth century, John had mentioned seeing her this week... and she still hasn't watched the whatever was on the series of shiny little discs he had sent her last week when he'd had to cancel. While the discs looked as if they'd make excellent coasters, she had been looking forward to his presence - and perhaps more.
Either way, however, she needs to have a working knowledge of the social issues on those discs, or reveal that she'd been scared off by the technology, and the depressing subject matter.
She's usually scrupulously prompt for her social engagements, but she hadn't wanted to show up to Anita's with the stress of the day on her, so she'd run home rather than taking a taxi - nearly an hours' run, and then showered and redressed in more casual clothing. She's not particularly good at making female friends, and she doesn't want to lose Anita through her own agitated stress.
Towel out of her hair and over the back of a chair Anita stopped for a moment at the door to the main floor, breathing slowly, forcing herself to relax. Unlocking the upper door she took the stairs two at a time, checking to make sure it was Susan outside of the grey steel door before unlatching it.
"Susan, welcome, glad you could make it." She embraced the girl in a hug, smiling apologetically as she pulled away. "Come in, this isn't the apartment, the people who used to own this place were artists, so converted this floor into a studio. Other then working out and parking for my jeep, it doesn't get used at all." She points to the heavy metal stairs next to them, the heavy door at the top, "I'm up there."
Amendment: She's not good at making female friends, and she's really not used to being touched by them. Almost all Susan's touches are sexual, or with the possibility of becoming so, and so to be hugged like this - by another woman, in this chaste, friendly way... for a moment she doesn't know what to do with it.
"What a lovely idea," she replies, moving on the automatic rules of social graces as she works through that startled moment, never allowing it to show on her face. "To be able to work out downstairs from where you live - like your own private gym."
Anita can feel Susan tense, even if it's ever so slightly. Which is fine, until the pard and pack became a part of her life touch had never been anything comforting and casual. Pulling back she smiles, "Sort of, only I don't have any equipment, so I mostly practice my sparring down here. I should get some equipment, but I like the gym." She starts up the stairs, motioning for Susan to follow her.
The main floor is a completely different story, a large open space with wood floors, windows running down the far end near a lounge area, couches and a tv, bookshelves and a large video collection. The kitchen with it's open concept counters, and dining table closest to them. In the middle of the room another staircase leading to a floor only half the size of the warehouse. Underneath the stair is an office area, mainly a desk with a computer on it and two chairs pulled to it. 'Well, I keep thinking I need more furniture for all this space, but... It's home."
Susan looks around the apartment - simple, not exquisitely beautiful, but with an appeal of its own that's from an entirely separate world than Susan's designer home. She even recognises most of the things in it, familiar with computers from her work now, although still inclined to use them as typewriters with a backspace function. Gaze falling on the video collection, interspersed liberally with DVDs, she recognises the slender design of the cases. "These are really movies, right?" she asks, knowing she sounds foolish - but how else is she to learn? "Like you'd see at the theatre, but at home?"
Anita nods seriously, knowing this is a lot of the reason that Susan is here, "They are indeed, the thin ones are newer, they're dvds, the bigger ones are video tapes, rapidly becoming obsolete these days. The dvds are better." Walking across the room she scans her shelf, pulling out The African Queen, "this is a classic now, 1951, you might actually remember it." She holds the dvd and case out to Susan, "Want to see how it works?"
"I saw this," Susan murmurs. "In the theatres. Katherine Hepburn is such an amazing woman. Or was, I suppose I should say." She takes the case, and then hesitates a moment. "You don't, mayhap, have Little Women? It was another of hers, from when she was much younger?"
Anita laughs, "She was an amazing woman. When I was a little girl I wanted to be just like her, only, well... You get the idea. I have all of her movies, and Audrey Hepburn, Judy Garland, Laurence Olivier, Clark Gable, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly," She shoots a guilty look at Susan, "I'm a bit of an old movie buff," Reaching to the shelf she pulls out not Little Women but Guess Who's Coming to Dinner "You should watch this one. It was the last movie Spencer Tracy made before he died, with Katherine Hepburn, 1967, with Sidney Poitier. It's about an interracial marriage, and really, things have only changed so much. First academy award for a black actor too..."
"Judy Garland - you've seen The Wizard of Oz, then?" She takes Guess Who's Coming to Dinner from Anita, resting it on top of The African Queen, her fingers caressing the brightly coloured cover. An interractial relationship, and she can't help but think of herself and Doyle, a match that would have been utterly scandalous in her own time. "I would like to watch it," she decides, a small smile echoing the words. "John's given me a small stack of these to watch, but I must admit to being a bit overwhelmed by it all."
"Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable." She laughs, "I've seen the Wizard of Oz so many times that I can quote it backwards and forwards. John gave you a stack of dvds? I can imagine being overwhelmed by it all, but it was sweet of him. Do you want to start easy? We can get you working the technology and watching something familiar?" Smiling, she walks back across to the kitchen, "Can I get you drink? You're limited to diet coke, coffee, I know there's tea somewhere, Nathaniel likes it, and possibly some beer or wine."
"Wine, if you have a good vintage?" Susan requests - a little nervous about what Anita might consider a 'good' vintage. She's more hesitant about coffee, though. She's been served instant once since arriving in Metropolis, and vowed never to accept coffee from an unknown source again. "Something familiar sounds wonderful - but I suppose I should attempt something a little more educational. I tried to take a look at the first one on the list, Philadelphia, but it was just so terribly depressing. Movies are supposed to be entertaining!"
"You're in luck, the ex has this tendency to send things he thinks I might need, you know, 18th century dresses, wines of the last 40 years, that sort of entirely useful stuff." She rolls her eyes as she slides a pantry door aside, "I have a couple cabernet's from the barossa valley. Australia. late 80's. People seem to like them." She flips on the kettle for herself, taking coffee beans out of the freezer to grind, and the frnch press off the shelf, "Philidelphia? He didn't. That's a bit much, especially at first."
Susan looks at the frozen coffee beans, and her smile grows wide. "Real coffee. Oh, yes please." There's that fear done with, thank goodness! "He did. The other films were... oh," she pauses, calling up the titles in her mind. The faces of the actors on the cover come effortlessly, the names of the movies a little trickier to catch hold of. "Full Metal Jacket and If These Walls Could Talk. There were a few others as well - seven, to be precise. He'd specified order, but they all looked depressing, quite frankly, and it's been a long enough week without adding that to the mess."
She smiles as she grinds the beans, adding them to the press, then the water once it's boiled. "Real coffee, I won't drink anything else. With real cream, and sometimes real sugar. I have an espresso machine but I'll be damned if I can figure it out."
Her head tilts as she lists the movies, starting to laugh, "John did that? Well, i can see why, I think, those are all great movies, world changing, and defining, but... I'm more of a fan of happy movies, musicals, comedies, those things. I get enough doom and gloom in my life already."
Susan cocks her head, grinning mischeviously. "He was supposed to talk me through the things I need to know that have happened over the last forty years - just the large changes in society. If you don't mind giving me the highlights, though, I won't need to watch the films, and I can spend tomorrow night doing something both more pleasant and more productive." She offers Anita a winsome grin, the kind very few men have ever said no to her when she's worn - although she doesn't expect it to have the same effect on Anita.
"So the crib notes for 40 years?" She nods, "We'll need some paper and a pen, possibly the laptop and about 45 minutes. So why don't we order out for Chinese and by the time the food gets here we can throw on a movie. One of the light ones. How does that sound?" She pulls mugs from the cupboard, pressing down the plunger, "How do you take your real coffee anyway?"
"That sounds wonderful," Susan replies gratefully. "Black and strong, if you please. As close to espresso as you can manage." Forty-five minutes sounds far better than hours and hours of depressing films, and an almost imperceptible tension is lightened from her shoulders.
"I like it strong too, but with cream, like I said. Other then that," she pours, adding cream from the fridge, tucking the cordless under her arm before she grabs the two mugs, making her way back to the lounge. "If you open my bag there should be a pad a pen inside, I'll grab the laptop, we can order, and we're good to go."
Truly relaxed now she smiles as she sets the mugs down on the table, "Hopefully it'll be relatively painless."
Susan opens Anita's bag, as instructed, withdrawing the pad and pen without delving to examine the contents further. Privacy isn't something she has a particular respect for - but this is her friend, and it would be rude to pry. "Painless would be nice," she replies, a soft laugh at the understatement. "Either way, though, I appreciate the help."
She settles in on the couch beside Susan, laptop on the table next to the coffee, and smiles, "The first joy? Modern Chinese takeaway, it is your saviour, learn to love it." She picks up the phone and hits a button auto dialing, looking sheepish, "And autodial. I don't cook." her eyes drop as she speaks into the phone, "Hi, yes, yes, yes, that's my address, Two orders of crab rangoon, one of spring rolls, szechaun beef, special fried rice, lemon chicken, general tso's chicken, yes, in the bird's nest, and bbq pork. Oh, and some veggies in ginger and garlic sauce, light on the oil for everything. Actually, honey garlic spareribs too. Yes. Yes. 45 minutes, good." she still looks sheepish when she turns back to Susan, "I like left overs?"
"I've already discovered the delights of people who bring food to your door," Susan laughs. "Although leftovers I haven't risked. That all sounds wonderful, though. I do cook, when necessary - the delights of a classical education, and being female in the 1940s and 50s. I also hate it." Anita's selections sound spectacular, although she has no idea what rangoon is, who general Tso is and what his chicken might taste like, or why food would be served in a bird's nest.
"Food delivery is key to life today. And believe me, don't ever let me do more then toast a bagel. Coffee... that's different, it's an art form." Flipping the laptop on she nods, "Okay, where do we start. What date are we going back to?"
"October, 1960 was the last I knew. I know Senator Kennedy won the election, and was assassinated a few years later. I know that blacks and women have the vote." Quirking a grin and an eyebrow to Anita, she murmurs, "and there was a war in there somewhere. That's guesswork, though. There's always a war in there somewhere."
"You know, this seems easier in concept then in reality." Typing quickly in a search engine, she finds what she's looking for and nods, "Ahhh, timelines by decades. It'll be brief, but it's a good start., 1960-1969, here we go" She brings up the page, "Now, your job is to ask questions, my job is to explain."
"Campbell's Soup exhibit?" Susan murmurs as she scrolls down. "This was significant, was it?" Most of the names pass her by, meaning nothing. Martin Luther King Jr.? Nelson Mandela? Che Guevera? The medical details, though, catch her attention. "They can transplant hearts now? That's... very impressive."
"Actually, it was. It was the beginning of pop art in many ways, a whole new wave of minimalism and modernism. As for hearts.. Yes, they can transplant anything, and it's pretty hig survivla rate even. Why don't we handwavily go through the list? Stop me if I go too fast"
"Certainly," Susan replies. "Handwavily would be good. I will." They go through that list, and then the next one, Susan stopping Anita to get further explanation on the political matters - the aspects she needs to know in most detail. Some outbursts she can't help, including "dude! America has our bridge?" By the end of those two decades, her head is already swimming. Abortion is legalised, and babies can be formed in test tubes. England had a female prime minister as well as a Queen. Everyone seems to have been assassinated. They've landed on the moon, but the rockets keep exploding (which kind of makes you wonder why they keep trying to reach it - it doesn't sound like it was that interesting the first time), the Berlin Wall is down, polio is no longer a threat, but something called AIDS is... and the President doesn't like broccoli. Finally, shaking her head, Susan murmurs, "who chooses what makes this timeline? How is that relevant?"
"It's not, it's just... Human interest really. This timeline leaves a lot to be desired, but still..." She shrugs as the door buzzes, "It gives you the general idea. I mean, we want to get you caught up, not kill you with information." She smiles as she jumps up, "I'll be back in a second." Running downstairs she returns a few minutes later with two large bags of food, spreading it out on the kitchen bench, putting a bit of everything on plates for them, "You get no choices here, you have to try it all. Especially the crab rangoon."
Susan arches an eyebrow, but grins. "Broadening my horizons, Anita?" While Anita was gone she'd read through the last list, the 1990s. Nelson Mandela's out of prison, and President of a South Africa no longer apartheided, and that seemed like a very, very, very long time to be in prison. Asking the question most pressing on her mind, she says, "diseases. Not dinner fare, I know, but... AIDS, Mad Cow Disease, the Ebola Virus... what do I need to be worried about?"
"Yes I am, it's the least I can do." She carries the plates over easily, silverware and chopsticks tucked into her hand. She looks serious as she settles back into the couch, plates on the table beside the computer. "You... Well, sexually transmitted diseases are the worst really. You shouldn't have unprotected sex, unless you know for sure they are safe, not doing the same with anyone else, or something similar... I mean, use a condom, they had those, didn't they?" her brow furrows, "They likely weren't the same as they are now, but with AIDS, herpes, hepatitis, that sort of thing... It's better to be safe then sorry. As for the rest, keep clean, don't eat spoiled food and hang out with people who make biological weapons? A lot of the other ones are just scares really."
Susan pauses, her own chopsticks hovering over her food. "Unprotected sex? I... sorry, explain condoms to me?"
Anita looks worried now, and puts her plate down her gaze coming around to meet Susan's slowly. "Susan, seriously, as a friend. Have you been having sex since you got here? I don't want details or to scare you, but..."
"Some," Susan replies, a slow nod of her head. She doesn't plan on giving Anita details, so she's glad Anita hasn't asked for them.
Her eyes close almost involuntarily, and she nods, reaching for her bag she rummages around, finally pulling out a small foil square from a makeup bag, and handing it to her. "Did you use one of these?"
Recognition lights Susan's eyes, and she nods. "Once. My partner did. It all happened very fast, I didn't get time to ask him questions. Not... not every time, though. Just that once." Bugger.
"Shit." She shook her head, "Susan, there's no nice way to say this. In the past 40 years some things have gotten a lot worse. There was the whole free love movement, but in the late 70's early 80's? STDs, Sexually Transmitted Diseases came around. If you have sex once with the wrong person unprotected you can catch them, they can kill you, they can scar you, make you unable to have kids, have sex, make you hurt... And the thing is, sometimes they don't always manifest right away so people don't know that they have them Susan, so they can pass them on without knowing it, and other people... Well there are some cruel people out there." She pulls up another webpage, and then clicks print, the wireless printer on her desk humming, "Just, and believe me Susan, I'm not judging, my house is too glass walled to be able to throw stones at anyone, but has it been a lot of people? Could you find them?"
As often happens in times of emotional distress, a calm, courtly mask slides over Susan's face, her expression one of perfectly polite interest - but showing no fear or censure. Nothing that might give her away. "'A lot' is a relative term. There's been a few. Most of them I can find again, others I know where to begin. Is there a way of testing for these diseases?"
She nods, "You'll likely be fine, honestly, but getting checked out is the best thing to happen. Sooner rather then later. There's a clinic in Della Rosa we could go to. It's a women's medical centre, and they often do testing for the girls at the uni for free. She reaches out, touching Susan's knee lightly, "I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you, but it's serious, too many people don't treat it like it is, it's how they spread."
The slightest tension to her jaw is the only thing that gives away her distress, but her voice is polite and even as she responds to Anita. "Apparantly, given that only one of the gentlemen I've been with saw fit to use this device. For future reference, is there a protocol in its mention or application? Did they expect me to bring the subject up?"
Anita sighs, knowing she likely barrelled into this the wrong way, didn't think before she spoke. But that was nothing new for her. "Remember what we said about women's rights? Well, if a woman won't sleep with a man, she's a prude, and if she will she's a whore, it still applies to a degree. It sort of works that way with condoms too a lot of the time. Most guys will use them, and remember to, but people, forget, or they expect the girl to suggest it, and if they don't," she shrugs, 'So yes, a lot of the time? It is up to you to bring it up. Have one in your handbag and pull it out. It's always worked for me."
Susan nods, making a mental note to go by a selection of those condoms. "If I've been with the gentleman in question before, without one, is it still necessary? Or has the damage been done, so to say?"
"Not necessarily. They could sleep with someone else in the meantime, or it might not get transmitted the first time. It's better to be safe then sorry unless you're sleeping with them pretty much exclusively." Her thoughts flash back to John the other week, and she pushes it from her head. "They're also birth control, so that's a plus."
Finally setting in to eat her food, Susan contemplates this for a few minutes. She hasn't really been worried about birth control - she's reasonably certain she's infertile, anyway. "Thank you," she offers finally. "I think I ought to go to the clinic in Della Rosa. Would you mind accompanying me?"
Anita nods, "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out, but this..." She half smiles at Susan, "This is why we're having tonight isn't it? So things like this don't come up."
"They were bound to come up eventually," Susan replies, supplying the other half of that smile. "Better to know now than later - I am very grateful, Anita."
Picking up her plate she nods, "Well, think, it was an informative evening, in many ways. And you got to learn all about Andy Warhol. Next time? We'll cover music if you'd like. And indian takeway. It's more fun. Til then... Movie?"
"Andy Warhol," Susan nods. "The soup fellow." Perhaps not the most useful of the pieces of information she'd picked up tonight - but she's certainly grateful to Anita for helping her come to terms with the twenty-first century. "A movie sounds wonderful. Did we come to a decision on which one?"
She can't help but snort her laughter, "You're right, the soup fellow. Still, it's one of those things... I should have shown you his Marilyn heads. Another time." She smiles as she leans back into the couch, still picking at her food, "You pick. I think it's been a long night for you, so, whatever you want. though I do still recommend guess Who's Coming to Dinner."
"Certainly," Susan replies, her elegant style of eating somewhat out of place as they sit on the couch, each bite of food chewed a full thirty times before she swallows. "I must admit to some curiosity over how mixed-races became socially acceptable. In my day they were on a par with incest - and John assured me that taboo is still firmly in place."
She shoots Susan a wondering look for a second before shaking her head and trying to explain, "It hasn't in many ways. Oh, on the surface it tends to be, but even then... couples, families, they still have a hard time of it. It's also like women's rights, on the surface things are better, but underneath it's almost worse in some ways, the biases are just hidden now, driven under. It's a wonderful movie though, and still really relevant in so many ways."
"I wonder," Susan replies quietly, "whether it's better to be scorned in public, or to be scorned in secret." Truthfully, coming in this jump from forty-five years ago, she has little doubt that things are better now - for women at least. Yes, there may be a glass ceiling - but at least women are allowed into the building now. It's not perfect, but it's definitely progress.
[ooc: Played over IM]