Sep. 3rd, 2017

andhiswife: (overwhelmed)
It's not easier this time, or better, it's just different. She doesn't cry as much, because she doesn't have the energy for hysterics anymore. It's less like being tempest-tossed and more like being adrift, gritting her teeth through the intermittent swells of sorrow or bitter self-recrimination until the waters still again, and she can get on with things.

And she doesn't want to talk about it. She doesn't want another round of sympathy from her friends, she doesn't want to be pitied. She doesn't want to be the person who just can't seem to stop suffering all the time. She's so tired.

But someone needs to tell Saoirse, and Greta's not letting it fall to anyone else. She ought to hear it from someone who knows how much Sam and Jordan meant to her. So after her shift is over, she goes off in search of her, eventually finding her out on the lawn with Cu.

"Saoirse?" It's a bright day, and Greta distantly wonders if she's about to ruin it as she shades her eyes. "Can you come here a moment?"

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The Baker's Wife

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