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?"
andhiswife: (smile - pensive)
Greta hasn't said anything to Saoirse about the misunderstanding at the hospital -- the one neither of them had bothered to correct. She'd explained it all to Baz, with no small amount of embarrassment. In that case, she hadn't had much choice. The bill would have arrived, and the paperwork would have ratted her out, and then he and Simon would have wondered why she hadn't told them.

Fortunately, they hadn't seemed to mind. She wonders if being perceived as a bit of a bumpkin (who of course wouldn't understand how hospitals work) has been to her advantage. At any rate, she's not about to argue that she knew exactly what she was doing. Better to shoulder the embarrassment of an honest mistake than delve into how dishonest the whole thing truly was.

Saoirse's kept the cast. Greta's stomach twists every time she catches a glimpse of the pink plaster, both a reminder of the day, and an unnecessary hindrance. She could have been healed in a moment; this could have been so much simpler. But there was an agreement: her coach and teammates and half of her teammates' parents had all seen the injury, and it would have been too conspicuous for her to show up to the next practice looking as if nothing had happened. There might even have been grumbles about unfair advantages.

Greta would have argued that speedy healing is perfectly fair when all the other children are twice Saoirse's size and knocking her into the dirt every other minute, but she can see the wisdom of keeping any magical influences well-hidden. She doesn't like it -- and the Greta of eight months ago would have gawped at the thought of not liking a bit of magical restraint -- but she understands it.

It's nearing the end of her shift, and she's putting the last few dishes away, making sure everything is in order. There's a spare lemon tart wrapped in a handkerchief and waiting by the door, so she won't forget it. (Despite Mad Sweeney's reassurances, she can no longer convince herself that a mouthful of bread -- even her bread -- is a sufficient offering for someone so bloody enormous.) And then there's a knock on the door, one she easily recognizes as Saoirse's. Though she knows the sight of the cast will give her a pang, Greta finds herself smiling fondly as she goes to open the door.

"Hello, sweetheart." She almost adds that Saoirse doesn't need to knock, that she can come visit whenever she likes, but then she remembers that with only one hand at her disposal, doors must be harder to handle. "Are you hungry? I could fix you something before I go."
andhiswife: (smile - pensive)
This, Greta thinks, is probably overdue. Jordan might not be Saoirse's age, but she's about her size, and Greta's fairly certain they'll get on. She's a little less certain about Marvin and Cu. The sheepdog has excellent manners, but there's no getting around the size disparity between him and the little terrier, and Marvin might not like it. Then again, Marvin also might not even show. She'd told Sam that Cu would be here, figuring he'd know best whether his own dog would actually enjoy tagging along.

She's also not entirely certain about the beach as a meeting place. Saoirse loves it, of course, which might be part of the problem. Even without any sign of her coat, Greta can't quite shake the fear that the seals will end up calling her into the water. It's probably paranoid, and even if it isn't, she's heard enough stories about selkies to know she doesn't want to be that person -- the one who so fears losing them that they do something awful just to keep them a little longer. But she's grown desperately fond of the girl, despite knowing what she is, and it's hard not to dread what seems like an inevitable departure.

Not that it'll be today or anything. Jordan and Sam will be distracting enough that Saoirse won't even be tempted to look too long at the waterline, probably.

She's rather looking forward to seeing them, with or without Marvin in tow. They'd checked in during the attack of all those awful little toys, so she'd known they were all right (and vice versa). But it's still reassuring to actually see them, happy and in one piece. If she's being entirely honest with herself, part of the reason she arranged this playdate is so she'd have an excuse to spend time with them without seeming... fretful. Or needy. Or other things she generally isn't.

The private insistence that this isn't all about her might be what prompts her to look down at Saoirse and ask, "Are you excited to meet Sam and Jordan?" They've only just arrived at the beach, and she hasn't spotted the pair yet, but she expects they'll find them soon enough.
andhiswife: (smile - fond)
They take the bus down to the boardwalk. Normally, Greta avoids modern means of conveyance as much as possible, and the walk from Dimera to the beach is nothing by her standards. But she doesn't want Saoirse to get tired or bored before they even reach their destination, so the bus it is.

Part of her wonders if she's making a mistake - if it might be foolish or even cruel to bring the girl to the seaside when she's still... as she is. Can she truly enjoy it? Or would it be worse not to take her, when it might be something of a second home to her? Granted, it's much too cold to go for a paddle or anything, but at least being on the beach might provide some comfort. It might even help with the vague illness she's been saddled with in her sealskin coat's absence.

Pitiable as Saoirse's condition might be, Greta can't help a stab of apprehension at the thought of what will happen if she actually finds her coat. She's heard enough stories about selkies to know that that's when they leave you -- and, selfishly, she doesn't want the girl going anywhere. She's grown terribly fond of her already.

"Now," she starts, holding Saoirse's hand as they cross the road and head over to the boardwalk, "it's too cold to go into the water, but I bet we could find some shells if we looked. Or there are all these shops along the boardwalk. There's a lot to see." She drops down to Saoirse's level and brushes some of the girl's hair out of her eyes -- it's rather blustery out, though at least the sun is warm. "What would you like to do first?"
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