Molly Stearns (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
losttheright) wrote2016-12-31 02:25 am
losttheright) wrote2016-12-31 02:25 am
Entry tags:
oh, you're gonna lose your soul tonight
Somehow, it doesn't come as a surprise when she wakes up alone.
Losing Russell and Andrea in one go the way she had, Molly had been thrown for a loop to say the least, left in a state of panic dangerous for her condition at the time, feeling like her entire world had just given way from under her feet. Mindy going not long after hadn't exactly helped much, though she had been preoccupied with Abigail at the time, sleep-deprived and exhausted and not able to stop to pay it too much mine. Before then, there had been any number of others she'd lost, close friends, people who might have been something a little more than that if given half the chance. Lisbeth, Chase, even Stephen, who she still thinks about more often than she would ever admit to, they'd all left her thrown. And it isn't like this doesn't, not by a long shot.
It's just that, sooner or later, she was bound to grow numb to it, and when she finds Lee gone, tries to call him only to hear an automated message that his phone has been disconnected, the most she feels is a hollow emptiness in her chest and the sense that she should have seen this coming.
Then again, for all she knows, time has nothing to do with it. She hasn't felt right since Abby was born, since before then, just waiting for something to click into place that still has yet to come. The other people she knows with children, they're good at it, they're happy about it. Even when it's hard, it seems like something that makes sense. That's never been the case for her. She's always been good with kids, but apparently that doesn't extend to her own, probably in no small part because that connection is something she just seems to be lacking. Oh, she can fake it alright, she can go through the motions and do what she needs to, but that doesn't change the fact that it's been a long time since she felt like herself, with no end to it in sight. Once or twice, she's tried looking it up to find out if that's normal, seen some terms thrown around, read that for people who've been through some of the shit she has, this transition and experience can often be more difficult. Whether there's a clinical term for it or not, though, something is missing. That, apparently, is also the case when it comes to trying to process the fact that Lee is gone, that she's here now on her own with a baby that she's never really known what to do with, just a couple of weeks away from going back to work.
In all the years she's been in Darrow, for the most part, Molly hasn't done much thinking ahead. It's enough just to be here, to know that she gets to have something at all, and if that time runs out, well, so be it. Now, that's just about the only thing she can do, to try to determine where she's going to go from here, because God knows she hadn't considered that this might be where she would wind up, twenty-five and a single parent. Nearly five more years of life than she was ever supposed to get back home is still a big fucking deal, but that's all the more reason why she can't waste what she has. She needs to let herself have a life. She needs to do what's right for both of them, and even before she was on her own with this, she wasn't sure that it was something she would be cut out for. It just seemed like she didn't have another choice. Like she said to Lee once, though, there are choices, and that hasn't changed just because Abby is almost three months old now. Somewhere out there, there's got to be someone who would be thrilled to raise a little girl. When she considers it like that, she isn't really sure that there's even a decision to be made.
Still, it isn't as if she can do any of this impulsively, not least when she doesn't exactly trust herself with it. So, instead, she does the only thing that makes sense: she pulls herself out of bed, calls a babysitter, dresses in jeans and a button-down shirt, curls her hair and puts on a little makeup. Before she leaves the apartment — and, God, she doesn't think she can stay here for very long — she sends texts to Katie and Clarke, two of the only friends she's got left and the two people she trusts the most, to see if they're around for her to stop by. Either one of them, she has no doubt, would tell her if she's making a mistake by even letting this be an option. Deep down, though, it already doesn't feel like one.
Losing Russell and Andrea in one go the way she had, Molly had been thrown for a loop to say the least, left in a state of panic dangerous for her condition at the time, feeling like her entire world had just given way from under her feet. Mindy going not long after hadn't exactly helped much, though she had been preoccupied with Abigail at the time, sleep-deprived and exhausted and not able to stop to pay it too much mine. Before then, there had been any number of others she'd lost, close friends, people who might have been something a little more than that if given half the chance. Lisbeth, Chase, even Stephen, who she still thinks about more often than she would ever admit to, they'd all left her thrown. And it isn't like this doesn't, not by a long shot.
It's just that, sooner or later, she was bound to grow numb to it, and when she finds Lee gone, tries to call him only to hear an automated message that his phone has been disconnected, the most she feels is a hollow emptiness in her chest and the sense that she should have seen this coming.
Then again, for all she knows, time has nothing to do with it. She hasn't felt right since Abby was born, since before then, just waiting for something to click into place that still has yet to come. The other people she knows with children, they're good at it, they're happy about it. Even when it's hard, it seems like something that makes sense. That's never been the case for her. She's always been good with kids, but apparently that doesn't extend to her own, probably in no small part because that connection is something she just seems to be lacking. Oh, she can fake it alright, she can go through the motions and do what she needs to, but that doesn't change the fact that it's been a long time since she felt like herself, with no end to it in sight. Once or twice, she's tried looking it up to find out if that's normal, seen some terms thrown around, read that for people who've been through some of the shit she has, this transition and experience can often be more difficult. Whether there's a clinical term for it or not, though, something is missing. That, apparently, is also the case when it comes to trying to process the fact that Lee is gone, that she's here now on her own with a baby that she's never really known what to do with, just a couple of weeks away from going back to work.
In all the years she's been in Darrow, for the most part, Molly hasn't done much thinking ahead. It's enough just to be here, to know that she gets to have something at all, and if that time runs out, well, so be it. Now, that's just about the only thing she can do, to try to determine where she's going to go from here, because God knows she hadn't considered that this might be where she would wind up, twenty-five and a single parent. Nearly five more years of life than she was ever supposed to get back home is still a big fucking deal, but that's all the more reason why she can't waste what she has. She needs to let herself have a life. She needs to do what's right for both of them, and even before she was on her own with this, she wasn't sure that it was something she would be cut out for. It just seemed like she didn't have another choice. Like she said to Lee once, though, there are choices, and that hasn't changed just because Abby is almost three months old now. Somewhere out there, there's got to be someone who would be thrilled to raise a little girl. When she considers it like that, she isn't really sure that there's even a decision to be made.
Still, it isn't as if she can do any of this impulsively, not least when she doesn't exactly trust herself with it. So, instead, she does the only thing that makes sense: she pulls herself out of bed, calls a babysitter, dresses in jeans and a button-down shirt, curls her hair and puts on a little makeup. Before she leaves the apartment — and, God, she doesn't think she can stay here for very long — she sends texts to Katie and Clarke, two of the only friends she's got left and the two people she trusts the most, to see if they're around for her to stop by. Either one of them, she has no doubt, would tell her if she's making a mistake by even letting this be an option. Deep down, though, it already doesn't feel like one.