The Tale You Tell

[andhiswife]

It's been a difficult week.

That's actually an understatement. But she can't let the full weight of it settle on her, not when she's out in public like this. So for as long as she's out here, doing some shopping, it's just been a difficult week.

She's told Baz and Simon about her situation. They'd offered to give her time off, but that wasn't what she wanted. The Gardens are one of the few places where she doesn't feel like climbing the walls. There's too much else going on, too many other things that require her attention. It's everywhere else that's the problem. Her apartment is too quiet and too empty and too immaculate; she can't even justify housework anymore because everything that could possibly need doing has already been done thrice over.

And she knows she has friends who would help her, who would be happy to provide company or distractions or whatever she needed. But that would require telling them. Repeating the story wouldn't make it any more real than it is already, but the thought of burdening anyone else with it -- and how could something this heavy not be a burden? -- turns her stomach. So much so that she's been politely deflecting the invitations she's received, rather than try to face anyone.

She'll say this for texting: it makes it easier to lie.

The thought of food rather turns her stomach, too, but she's getting groceries, anyway. Even if the chief appeal of cooking is making a mess that she would then have to tidy up, it's still a necessary chore. Her clothing is starting to hang a bit looser than it ought to, and she doesn't want to make new garments for what she knows, distantly, to be an impermanent state of affairs. So, groceries. She can do this.

[Find Greta looking terrible either at or en route to a grocery store, or on her way back to Candlewood. Closed unless we've spoken; hmu if you still want in.]

Comments

[a_capella_boy]

Jesse sighed and grabbed a pack of diapers off the shelf as he pushed his cart down the isle. They didn't quite need diapers yet but with a baby you always needed diapers because it was impossible to tell when you were going to run out.

"Why can't you be more regular, huh?" Jesse asked, looking down at his daughter in the carrier. She answered his question with a gurgle, which he assumed was a very wise answer he just couldn't translate.

They were basically all done with grocery shopping now and he was just seeing if there was anything that he didn't know he needed just yet. Jesse thought about getting a pie of some sorts but honestly the pie at Semele's had ruined all other pie for him. It was probably best to just go home.

Turning the corner of the isle Jesse smiled down at Ripley one last time before glancing back up. What he saw at the end of the other end of the isle made him completely freeze up. His stomach lurched and his heart skipped a beat when he saw that it was Greta at the other end.

Oh. Fuck.

[andhiswife]

Greta's reading the label on a packet of rice flour for the third time, because nothing really got through the first two times she tried. Someone else turning down her aisle doesn't even register -- not until the person goes absolutely still. That manages to catch her attention. She glances over, then does a double-take as she realizes she knows the young man currently staring at her.

Not as well as he knows her, of course.

She should say something. He's looking at her as if... well, as if he's seen a ghost, fittingly enough. She doesn't want to be looked at that way, and if there's something she can do or say that might convince him that she's alive, that she's fine... but she isn't. Not fine, anyway, and arguably not alive -- not where it matters.

So she just stares back at him like a startled forest creature, to her own distant frustration. She must look so foolish.

[a_capella_boy]

"Nope."

That's the only thought that went through Jesse's mind. Fortunately it didn't also come out of his mouth too because that would have been really shitty to do. He'd already caused Greta enough pain and he didn't want to hurt her more but he also didn't want to hurt her more. His presence here couldn't be anything but painful and he can see it on her face. Just looking at him must be hurting her.

So Jesse did the cowardly but hopefully right thing and just turned around. He left his cart and all his groceries there and just turned around and left. Walking all the way to the end of the store in case she tried to catch him in one of the other isles he just made for the exit as quickly as possible and hoped that she wouldn't try to talk to him on the way out.

[madesomenoise]

She hasn't seen Greta for a few days, but that's not unusual. She's not been worrying. Girl's on her way to the studio when she sees Greta and she steps off the curb, checking both ways before she jobs across the street.

"Greta? Hey! Hey, Greta?"

[andhiswife]

"Oh, Dee." Greta had rather hoped to get to the store and back without running into anyone she knows. Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she turns to face her. "Hello." It's not as if she can give the girl a brush-off; she's not mean. She just doesn't have the requisite energy to pass herself off as if everything's fine. Once she's got the greeting out of the way, she falls silent, brow furrowed in mingled inquiry and apprehension as she wonders what she ought to say.

[madesomenoise]

Dee's faked a smile enough to know when someone's doing it and she raises her eyebrows, studying her friend's face for a moment.

"I was just thinking that I haven't seen you in a while. Everything okay?"

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

Bull was waiting for a light to change at the cross walk when someone ran into him. Bounced off him, more like. Despite his size, he moved rather quickly to rescue a grocery bag before it hit the ground.

"Easy there," he said, voice gentle as soon as he saw the look on her face. It took him a moment, but he recognized her. Greta. She'd seemed much taller when he first met her.

[andhiswife]

Well, that was stupid of her. She might not be at her best, but she'd thought she could at least get from the shop to her door without blundering right into someone.

Truthfully, it isn't until the figure turns that she realizes they're a someone and not a something; they're so tall she might have mistaken them for a booth of some sort. "Oh, god, I'm so--" she starts, her mouth automatically spilling out an apology even as she belatedly registers just how massive this person is. She trails off abruptly, eyes widening as she looks up, and up, and up to find a battle-scarred face crowned by an impressive pair of horns, like a bull's.

Her mouth falls open, emitting a small, stunned squeak.

[shok_ebasit_hissra]

Her reaction wasn't new. Bull knew what he looked like: seven and a half feet tall, heavily scarred, missing an eye and the tips of two fingers on his left hand, horns. Most humans that had never even heard of Qunari looked at him like she did. But he didn't blame her.

"I know," he sad with a small smile. "It's a lot to take in. I was much smaller the first time we met."

[on_mans_road]

Amalthea looked at her for a long time. Well, it felt like a long time, to her. Then she moved, quiet and light, and soon she was at Greta's side in front of a display of summer fruit. She reached and lightly grasped the woman's hand.

"You don't look well," she said. She rarely remembered to say things like are you alright? Of course Greta wasn't alright, so why would she ask?

[andhiswife]

No one else that she's met moves quite like Amalthea does. Even in a human body, there's a touch of otherworldly grace about her. Greta blinks, unprepared for the unicorn-girl's sudden appearance or the hand gently taking her own, doubly unprepared for the blunt observation.

She opens her mouth, half-intending to admit that she doesn't feel well. But then she remembers the way Amalthea had said that she could feel her own body dying around her, and she wonders how on earth she could justify telling her friend, this unicorn, about her own death. Why is Amalthea even bothering with her in the first place? It's something she's always half-wondered, but now, when she's already feeling miserable, it's especially hard to fathom.

Her eyes fill, and she snaps her mouth shut before her shaky exhalation can turn into an outright sob.

[on_mans_road]

She saw the tears and it took her a moment to realize what they were. She leaned against Greta's arm, rested her head against her shoulder. "We could go somewhere else," she offered quietly. "A walk, or just... not here."

She remembered that Molly didn't like to get overly emotional in front of other people.

[letitbetrue]

Greta looks awful.

It's a terrible and uncharitable thing for Demelza to think given what she knows of Greta's situation, but she sees her friend, sees how thin she's gotten, and she can't seem to help herself. There's nothing at all she can do to better the situation and she knows Greta had asked, but she still rather wants to belt whoever it is that told her all these details of her life. It may not fix things, but Demelza thinks it might make her feel better.

But her feelings are not the focus now and they shouldn't be.

Garrick is trotting alongside her when she crosses the street to meet Greta and his tongue lolls, his tail wagging, and she can't help but hope perhaps the sight of a dog so happy to see her might lift her mood a little.

"Hello," she says, offering Greta a small smile as Garrick noses impatiently at her fingers.

[andhiswife]

Some of the tension leaves her shoulders when she realizes it's Demelza. There's no need to feign normalcy for her, or to account for her current state (which she knows must look rather dire). She can just be. Which only goes so far when you don't particularly want to be what you are, but at least it's easier than trying to be what you're not.

"Hello. And you, Garrick," she adds, dropping into a crouch and letting the dog sniff at her face. Animals don't require her to account for herself, either. Maybe she ought to get a dog. She's never had need of one before, and she still thinks of pets as something that ought to have a purpose, or do a job. It's odd to think of spending money on a creature for no other reason than the joy it might bring.

Or it was odd, anyway. Now, she thinks she sees the sense of it. Or maybe she just sees how bringing joy might be a job in and of itself.

"Were you just taking this one for a walk?" she asks, glancing up at Demelza as she ruffles the dog's ears. She doesn't want to think that she's interrupting anything especially purposeful (in large part because she doesn't want to acknowledge that checking up on herself might be a task worth pausing one's life for a few minutes).

[letitbetrue]

Garrick's tail wags furiously when Greta drops onto his level, his entire back end swaying from side to side as he snuffles happily at her cheek and her hair before sitting back and letting out one of those great big dog sneezes that Demelza can only be grateful he's had the foresight to aim toward the ground instead of straight at Greta's face.

"Yes, I thought I ought to take him, sometimes he do get so restless in the house and tramples all over everyone. He would go everywhere with me if he could, but when I was working at Tintern, it wasn't allowed and when he waited for me outside, sometimes people would be cruel to him."

It might be different at Green Gardens, though, and she considers speaking to Baz and Simon about it. They might welcome her gentle and yet protective dog, who would only ever lie about and let the children crawl all over him, but would stand against anyone who tried to hurt them.

"Are you headed home or would 'ee like to walk with us for a bit?" she asks.

[singthesong]

The Balladeer has never quite cottoned on to texting; why do that when you can just speak with people? But this also means that he's a poor hand at detecting subtleties of text message, so he hasn't given Greta's absence a second thought. People get busy!

It doesn't mean he hasn't missed talking to her, though, so he brightens when he sees her across a street, rocking forward onto his toes and waving. "Greta! Hi!" He's already crossing; there's no escaping him now. Technically he was headed in the opposite direction to begin with, but there's a guitar case over his shoulder and he jingles faintly when he moves. Today was already a good busking day, and as that's his only regular job, he has literally nowhere else to be right now. And nothing to do but follow Greta to the grocery store, perhaps.

[andhiswife]

Greta stills when a familiar voice calls her name, then watches, already resigned, as the Balladeer comes loping toward her. He's one of the people she's been deliberately putting off the past few days, in part because she knew how easy it would be. If anyone would be inclined to take her texts at face value, he would. Now, of course, she feels horribly guilty for it -- not least of all because she hadn't had the sense to say she was ill, or something else that would excuse how ghastly she probably looks.

"Hello," she says as he nears her, offering a strained smile. God, she really doesn't want to tell him what's happened. He's such a ray of bloody sunshine, and he's happy here. She doesn't even know what bringing him down would look like, and frankly, she doesn't want to find out. "Busy day?" she asks with a nod towards his guitar. "It must be nice to finally have good busking weather."

[singthesong]

"Yeah, it's been good!" He turns his face up to the sun, distracted for a moment. Darrow's heat doesn't carry the heavy mugginess of Washington weather; there's hardly any downside here to spending as much time out of doors as possible.

But that's only a momentary distraction. Buoyed as he is by the weather, he's not blind. "How're you?" The Balladeer furrows his brow, stepping aside and angling his guitar case to keep from completely blocking sidewalk traffic. Maybe he's not launching immediately into trying to figure out what's wrong, but obviously he can tell that something is. Maybe she's been sick?

[pontmercyfriend]

Marius is at the grocery store picking up a few last minute things he needs for home. Basics, mostly, with the occasional brownie mix or three. He is, by no means, a master at cooking, but he's capable of making himself some comfort food, which has come especially handy this past school year.

He's grabbing some eggs when he catches sight of Greta in the aisle with him, looking decidedly haggard and upset. Concerned, Marius forgets his eggs as he makes his way over to her.

"Greta?" He asks, the concern evident in his voice. "What's happened?"

[andhiswife]

Oh, god, she's been spotted. Not that she's been making any great attempt to be stealthy. That would require more energy than she possesses, and more attention to her surroundings than she's evidently able to pay. And it's Marius, which makes her want to kick herself. She knows how busy he is, and he has more important things to focus on than her troubles.

Nor does she relish the thought of getting into it here, in the middle of a grocer's. She lifts her shoulders in a frustrated, hapless shrug. What is she supposed to say? What words can she even get out without choking on them?

"A lot," she finally says, voice hoarse. She can't even look at him.

[pontmercyfriend]

The longer he takes in the sight of Greta, the more obviously concerned Marius becomes. She looks ill, as though she hasn't been eating, despite what the contents of her grocery basket might say.

He doesn't want to pry, nor does he want to make her uncomfortable in the middle of such a public space. But he also can't just leave her here, not with her looking the way she does. He knows she wouldn't abandon him, if their positions were reversed.

"Would you like to come back to my apartment?" He offers. "I can make tea. My cats would love the chance for company." They might also prove calming, in a way, for Greta. Or so Marius hopes.

[numberhuang]

I know that I actually get out more than I used to, but these days it feels like I don't really have time for me anymore. I don't really get the chance to go to the mall and enjoy a frozen yogurt (or better yet, a chipwich). I don't really get any times when I can just disconnect from my work and feel like I can take a break. It's both wonderful and terrible. Wonderful because I've never felt more productive than I do these days.

Terrible because sometimes my brain does want a break.

But today, it looks like I might have an excuse for not heading straight back to my office after talking at one of the local elementary schools. I see Greta rushing back in the direction that I think she lives in, and so I step forward so that I'm in her line of sight. If she's in a hurry to get somewhere, that's fine, but I want to check that she's okay.

"Greta? Is something wrong?" I ask her, trying to meet her gaze.

[andhiswife]

Jessica is one of the friends she hasn't needed to work to avoid. She's so busy with her new job that even if Greta had wanted to impose, they probably would have had to schedule a time to squeeze her in. Up until now, it's been something of a relief to think that at least one of her friends wouldn't be in a position to notice how bad things are -- not until Greta has had time to get herself back together.

So much for that.

"Um." She pulls up short, groceries tucked over one arm. Something is wrong; obviously so, if that's the first question out of Jessica's mouth. There's not much point in denying it. She just doesn't doesn't know what to say.

Surely Jessica has more important business to attend to than her. She certainly looks the part of professional councilwoman, all trim and neat and put together in a way that throws Greta's own general disarray into sharper relief. God, she must look a mess.

She exhales, then lifts her shoulders, unable to meet Jessica's gaze. "I don't... you must be terribly busy."

[improvises]

It isn't that he's lurking, exactly. For one, that would be creepy, and two, it would definitely be overstepping several boundaries. Greta is a friend, someone who's become important to both him and Jordan, but she's got a life of her own, and it isn't his business to infringe on that. Still, it's been longer than usual since he's heard from her, enough that Jordan has started to ask after her and when she'll next be coming over, which is reason enough — as if he didn't have one already — for him to want to see what's going on and make sure that everything is okay. It's strange, this absence, and there's a part of him that he knows is probably irrational but can't turn off anyway that's wary about Jordan forming connections to anyone who'll wind up leaving. She's lost enough as it is.

So, while it hadn't occurred to him when he first left the house to run errands, when he finds himself in the vicinity of Greta's building, he figures he may as well swing by on the off chance that he might catch her coming or going. Nothing weird or stalker-y or uncomfortable, just one friend hoping to run into another friend, wanting to make sure she's alright. That can't be such a bad thing. If it were the other way around, he tells himself, he would probably appreciate it, in fact. Eden almost certainly would have tracked him down by now, though they at least have the benefit of years of friendship, with her being the closest thing to family he's got, other than Jordan.

It's enough of a justification that he doesn't feel too out of place heading past her building, stopping in a nearby coffee shop for something to drink. When he does see her, it almost comes as a surprise — he'd figured it was unlikely that he actually would see her here, but there's something of a relief in it, too. At least she seems physically alright, not hurt or sick or anything.

"Greta, hey!" he calls, crossing the street to where he's spotted her. That relief fades quickly once he really gets a look at her, the expression on her face. "What's going on?"

[andhiswife]

Oh. Oh, no. It hadn't even occurred to her that she might run into Sam; their respective buildings are far enough apart that she wouldn't expect errand runs to overlap. If she'd known, she might not have left the apartment at all. Explaining herself to her friends -- any of her friends -- is a miserable prospect, but with Sam, it's almost incomprehensible. He's already lost so much. How can she tell him what her loss would mean? It would be too cruel. She'd hoped she might pull herself together before she saw him again. She'd hoped to avoid telling him altogether.

But scurrying off isn't an option, now that he's spotted her, so she stills and waits for him to cross the road. The real, bitter irony of it all is that part of her is glad to see him, has missed him (and Jordan, of course) despite the necessity of her avoidance. She hadn't realized how much time they were really spending together, but a week apart has felt wrong, and empty, in addition to all the other wrongness and emptiness she's been drowning in.

He sounds cheerful enough when he first calls out to her, but once he draws close enough to get a good look at her, his concern is immediate and apparent. God, it's already too late, isn't it? Even if she could pull herself together and lie convincingly (and she knows she can't), he knows something's wrong, he knows it's serious. And he's one of the dearest friends she has here. The thought of trying to put him off is just as repulsive as the thought of telling him the truth. Either way, what sort of friend does that make her?

She has to say something, offer him something, and she opens her mouth to fumble out a greeting. But she's miserable and exhausted, and the frustration of being trapped between two horrible options is too much, and her throat tightens before she can get any words out. Oh, god, this is just brilliant. Her face crumples, and she turns aside, as if that will make it any less obvious that she's moments away from bursting into tears in the middle of the sidewalk. She hates this.