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

[andhiswife]

Greta bobs her head in acknowledgment. She was hesitant to use her card much at first, worried that she'd spend more than she had if she couldn't see what she was doing (despite the fact that, even after accounting for the different kinds of currency, she is wealthier now than she's ever been in her life). But the card is faster. No one's scolded her for using banknotes, and she's never tried to pay for anything with a pile of little coins or anything obnoxious like that, but the implicit social pressure to get on with things quickly is still there.

This does mean she'll have to double-check her balance before she goes and spends a kingly sum on a dog. But she's been living well within her means; her stipend covers the basics, and there's the money she's making at the Gardens on top of that. So long as the shelter doesn't expect thousands of dollars from her -- and she can't imagine any dog would go for that much -- she should be fine.

"Well, and I'll have you to help me," Greta points out with a fond smile. Demelza's already been a great help to her over the past week, and whether Greta strictly needs assistance with getting a dog doesn't matter; she'd welcome it. And she can't help thinking it'd be more enjoyable for Demelza than the help she's given so far: handling the more boring chores at the Gardens and offering comfort and support whenever Greta loses her composure. She appreciates it more than she can say, but she knows it hasn't exactly been fun.

"I'll have to do some shopping, and probably a bit of reading, as well. But once I'm ready, I'd love some help picking someone out."

[letitbetrue]

"I'd be honoured to help 'ee," Demelza says and she knows a dog isn't going to fix everything, it's not going undo the pain that's been caused by learning her fate, but they are wonderful creatures and she thinks the company of a dog might truly help where other things will be unable. Unconditional love of that nature is so rare and Demelza thinks if there's anyone who needs such a thing right now, it's Greta.

There's more to caring for a dog now than there had been back in Cornwall and although she knows it, has experienced it with Garrick, it still sometimes seems odd to her. She'd been instructed that she ought to buy Garrick a bed, though after she'd bought it, he had sniffed at it a few times, then flopped down on the floor beside it. Julia tends to sleep on it more often than Garrick ever does and yet it seems as if all over dogs love their beds. Demelza had come to the decision that Garrick is, like her, simply out of his time.

"You must think about what size of dog you'd like, I think," she says thoughtfully. "Though I think you also ought to be prepared to have your mind changed quite swiftly if one particular dog captures your attention."

[andhiswife]

"Nothing too big," Greta says, thinking aloud. "I suppose I'll have to keep it on a leash for a while, at first, and I don't fancy being hauled about." She's seen some dogs in town even larger than Cu, and though she hasn't been in the proverbial dog market for more than a few minutes, she already knows she's not after what might as well be a pony.

Then again, she wouldn't want something too small, either. Any dog she gets would have to be able to withstand the affections of all the children in her life. Jordan and Saoirse are both dog savvy, and it's not as if Marvin is that big, either. But she's also seen dogs small enough to practically fit up someone's sleeve. "It ought to be large enough that you can tell it's a dog at first glance, though," she says with a wry smile. "I wouldn't want something too small to play with Garrick. Or to weather children's attention."