losttheright | (no subject)

She's been tired for goddamn months. Maybe longer, even, since she first found out she was pregnant a year and a half ago and her boyfriend walked out on her upon hearing the news. Lately, though, the exhaustion is something she can't shake, this holding pattern one she needs to break out of before she loses her mind even more than she already has. She's met with a lawyer, she's started taking steps, but it still seems like there's so much to take care of, an unending stream of shit to deal with. Deep down, a part of her knows that, in focusing so much on everything else, she's ignoring herself and what she's suspected has been the case for a long time. She hasn't felt right since Abigail was born, and the more time passes, the more apparent it becomes that this isn't something that's going away. With everything else in front of her, though, she tells herself that she doesn't have time to deal with it, that any of that can wait until she's at least officially started the ball rolling on the adoption process and found herself a new apartment and moved her things out of the place she still thinks of as Lee's.

Instead, she tries with all she can to find ways to feel like herself again, even if only temporarily, even if she knows she's faking it. She's always been good at that, pretending she's alright when she isn't, compartmentalizing because it's the only way to keep going. It let her keep working on Morris's campaign, and she would have been fine if Stephen hadn't picked up the wrong fucking phone that night. It's what's going to get her through now, too, though the circumstances are wildly different from when she was a twenty-year-old who made one bad mistake.

The days that are quiet, that she doesn't have to go into work, are the harder ones to get through. The weather doesn't help, too hot and sticky for her to wear clothing that covers the scars on her chest and arms. Heat or not, though, Molly has no qualms about admitting to herself that she needs her caffeine fix, relying on it these days more than ever. The coffee shop she ducks into is one she's long since favored, and she orders her latte with two extra shots and finds a table to sit at for a while, breathing in deep while she waits for it to cool.

She's a few sips in when she spots someone she's met, smiling a little for it. It is, if nothing else, a reason to pull herself together. "Hi," she says, warm, casually friendly. "Angela? We met at that exhibit opening, I think."

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Angela was, to put it lightly, exhausted.

On Kat's first night in the hospital, after surgery, Angela had slept slumped in her chair, despite the warning looks from hospital staff. She could hardly bring herself to look away from her daughter's face, half terrified that she wouldn't be there in the blink of an eye, so how could she have been expected to go home?

The next day, she'd finally agreed to go home, partially due to her daughter's tired but determinedly stern glare. Time with her physical therapist, a shower, and a good nap did her some good.

Still, when she stopped by the coffee shop that afternoon, she felt weighted down by too many sleepless nights. The joy and relief of having her daughter back that had been carrying her through the last few days was no longer enough to keep her going.

She'd been warned against too much caffeine, just like so many other things, but a bit of indulgence wouldn't kill her.

Thoughtful frown creasing her face at the sound of someone calling her name, she blinked away a moment of confusion, a warm smile taking its place.

"Molly, wasn't it?"

"Mmhmm, that's right," Molly confirms with a nod, the slightest bit relieved not to be the only one who remembers their meeting. It's happened before, and however understandable, it's always just a little awkward, too, having to recount the circumstances of an encounter that someone else has forgotten. Even with someone she's only barely acquainted with, though — even with what happened before that, the panic attack that she'd shut herself in the bathroom to wait out — it's nice to be pulled out of her own thoughts for a moment, messy as they've been lately.

She hasn't been thinking straight for such a long time.

"How've you been? It's been... a while."

"I'm--" She took a moment to consider her answer, realizing just how complicated her feelings were. "I'm good. Wonderful, in fact. And very, very tired."

She smiled, knowing she was offering more information than Molly was likely looking for.

"My daughter arrived here last week. It's been a bit... chaotic."

"Yeah?" Molly asks, her smile broadening a little in turn. Her own feelings about parenthood may be — well, not what they should be, as far as she can tell, but it's clear that this is a welcome turn of events, however tired Angela may also be. She's past the point of wishing she could know what that feels like, mostly having come to terms with the fact that she never will, but she doubts she'll ever stop being aware of it. "Well, chaotic or not, that sounds like great news."

"It is. It's... Well, truthfully, I feel a bit selfish," she admitted, "I wouldn't have wished this on her, not to be trapped like this, but I can't help but be-- Overjoyed is the word, I think."

It was, of course, an oversimplification. She was overjoyed, but she was also terrified of what might be on the horizon and worried about the rest of her family.

"Right now, I'm just trying not to fawn over her too much. I'm already pushing it, as it is."

"I think it's hard not to be a little selfish with that sort of thing," Molly says with a small, knowing smile. It isn't something with which she has much experience, when she's only known one person from home who was here and that was short-lived to say the least, but it makes sense enough to her. "It's not like it's anything anyone has control over, right? So if it was going to happen anyway... It's worth being that happy about it."

She's not entirely sure when she last felt happy. That isn't something she wants to think about.

"That's what I keep telling myself," Angela admitted, with a somewhat grateful smile. If nothing else, it was nice that Molly seemed to understand her predicament, as much as she was able.

"And what about you? How are you?"

If she allowed herself, she could've talked about Kat and the rest of her family ceaselessly, but she was happen enough to have something else to focus on for a bit. It would do her some good, to get out of her own head.

"I'm... tired, too," Molly says, not seeing any sense in trying to talk around that. Even if she tried to, it would probably be apparent enough. For all that she's always been good at compartmentalizing, at acting fine when she's anything but, this exhaustion has settled deep in her bones, nothing she's been able to shake in the months since she woke up in an empty bed, suddenly a single parent. Hell, she hadn't really been okay before that. It was just the wakeup call she needed to start doing something about it. "Work is pretty much always crazy, and I've had a lot to take care of outside of that, so it's... a lot."

Her smile a touch wry, she lifts the cup in front of her. "Thus, caffeine."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Whatever it is, I hope it works out," Angela said, genuinely concerned, but knowing better than to ask questions about something that was clearly none of her business. If it was something Molly wanted to talk about, Angela would be there to listen, but otherwise, her smile alone made it clear that she wouldn't push.

"You work for the mayor's office, don't you? What's your job, exactly? If you don't mind me asking."

"Thank you," Molly says, genuinely appreciative in that. It will somehow, she'll make sure of it, but in the meantime, it's just a hell of a lot to have on her plate, more than she ever wanted or expected to. None of this is anything she could have predicted, after all. Maybe if she'd had some way of knowing, she could have done things differently from the start. As it is, all she can really do is pick up the pieces.

She doesn't mind talking about it, really. Everything will be settled sooner or later, and she'll have to be able to then, anyway; it isn't like it won't be a noticeable change. Bringing up the fact that she's arranging an adoption just after Angela has talked about being so happy to see her daughter seems like it at least has the potential to be awkward, though, so she decides it can wait, if it's something to talk about at all.

"And no, I don't mind you asking at all. I'm the deputy communications director, so... I had the very, very fun job of handling a lot of the fallout from the Hatchimals incident. People tend not to like it when their toys go on murderous rampages."