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May. 20th, 2012 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notinthebook She kind of feels like she should have heard from Mary Margaret by now.
Right? Isn't that sort of the deal? True, she didn't tell Mary Margaret about everything that happened with Michael, but...that's hardly the same thing as David leaving his wife.
Unless...
She thinks back to the jacket and envelope left so neatly on her bed, and guilt roils in her stomach. She probably should have told Mary Margaret. At the very least, she shouldn't have found out from Michael trying so hard to get here to talk to her that he'd ended up shunted straight into a burning building.
(She still feels really kind of awful about that.)
But Mary Margaret...she wouldn't hold that against her. Right? Maybe she's just been busy.
Either way, the office is unbearably quiet, and she could really use a little good news, so she tosses aside her half-eaten sandwich and grabs her phone to call her roommate.
Hopefully at least one of them has some good news.
Right? Isn't that sort of the deal? True, she didn't tell Mary Margaret about everything that happened with Michael, but...that's hardly the same thing as David leaving his wife.
Unless...
She thinks back to the jacket and envelope left so neatly on her bed, and guilt roils in her stomach. She probably should have told Mary Margaret. At the very least, she shouldn't have found out from Michael trying so hard to get here to talk to her that he'd ended up shunted straight into a burning building.
(She still feels really kind of awful about that.)
But Mary Margaret...she wouldn't hold that against her. Right? Maybe she's just been busy.
Either way, the office is unbearably quiet, and she could really use a little good news, so she tosses aside her half-eaten sandwich and grabs her phone to call her roommate.
Hopefully at least one of them has some good news.
no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 04:36 am (UTC)Mary Margaret rubbed her cheek clean with the back of her knuckles and her hand. Smiling at the gaggle of girls who ran by shrieking with a snaking, black-and-black, jumping ropes trailing behind them.
Mary Margaret stared after them for a long few minutes, crossing the playing ground, surveying all of them. Watching all that they were doing, that they were safe, and not doing anything against the rules.
When she looked down she realized her phone was still open, held in the curve of her hand against her leg. Emma had been trying to help. Even if the word echoed wrong, went too well with David saying she was feeling he just didn't understand.
They both wanted her to know they'd cared, for different reasons, from different places. The numb irony was lost that she scrolled through the names, until her fingertip stopped at the mid W's, at the one person who never pretended to. Care.
Guilt and the whole roll of emotions staring at his names. Remembering what he'd, she'd, they'd. She hadn't told Emma either. She shouldn't feel guilty. She shouldn't. She was an adult. She could make these choices. Go through with them, and keep them to herself.
She shouldn't feel guilty.
But she did, even as she clicked call.