The moment the door had swung shut, Greta had felt like the worst kind of fool. How could she have done that, snapped at Iman right after she'd been through something so terrible? There's no excuse; she should have known better. She should have been patient.
She considers going out after her, trying to catch up, but Iman had wanted to be alone, and the streets are so crowded. She can't even spot her from the window. And Iman had said she would come back - what if she did, and found the apartment empty? No. Greta can't go out looking for her.
So she does the next best thing. A few anxious texts to Rush later, she at least has his assurance that he'll try and track her down.
The scarf is still in a sorry little pile on the bedspread. Greta picks it up and folds it neatly, then holds the little bundle in her hands and stares down at it for several long moments. Her arms twitch and her chin drops, an aborted motion to lift the thing and bury her face in it, but no. This time, it's not home she's missing. She returns it to its usual place, slides the drawer shut, and looks around the apartment in a miserable daze.
Just… the worst kind of fool.
She can't stand the thought of more actionless waiting; she had her fill of that while Iman was unconscious. So she sets about making bread, the motions easy and familiar, enough so that she can still go through them with her attention largely divided between her phone and her worries.
Rush texts her. He's found Iman. Thank goodness.
More waiting. More bread. Until she reaches the part where she has to cover it and let it sit, leaving her with nothing to do but wipe down the counter, and once that's done she'll have nothing to do but pace unless she decides to straighten the rumples Iman left out of her bed, and she's not sure she could bring herself to do that.
Fortunately, the knock comes just as she's finishing the counter.
She opens the door, and there they are - Rush looking typically inscrutable, Iman with her hijab repurposed into a sling. Greta lets out a heavy sigh, and there might be a hint of and-what-sort-of-time-do-you-call-this to it, but for the most part, it's just immensely relieved.
no subject
She considers going out after her, trying to catch up, but Iman had wanted to be alone, and the streets are so crowded. She can't even spot her from the window. And Iman had said she would come back - what if she did, and found the apartment empty? No. Greta can't go out looking for her.
So she does the next best thing. A few anxious texts to Rush later, she at least has his assurance that he'll try and track her down.
The scarf is still in a sorry little pile on the bedspread. Greta picks it up and folds it neatly, then holds the little bundle in her hands and stares down at it for several long moments. Her arms twitch and her chin drops, an aborted motion to lift the thing and bury her face in it, but no. This time, it's not home she's missing. She returns it to its usual place, slides the drawer shut, and looks around the apartment in a miserable daze.
Just… the worst kind of fool.
She can't stand the thought of more actionless waiting; she had her fill of that while Iman was unconscious. So she sets about making bread, the motions easy and familiar, enough so that she can still go through them with her attention largely divided between her phone and her worries.
Rush texts her. He's found Iman. Thank goodness.
More waiting. More bread. Until she reaches the part where she has to cover it and let it sit, leaving her with nothing to do but wipe down the counter, and once that's done she'll have nothing to do but pace unless she decides to straighten the rumples Iman left out of her bed, and she's not sure she could bring herself to do that.
Fortunately, the knock comes just as she's finishing the counter.
She opens the door, and there they are - Rush looking typically inscrutable, Iman with her hijab repurposed into a sling. Greta lets out a heavy sigh, and there might be a hint of and-what-sort-of-time-do-you-call-this to it, but for the most part, it's just immensely relieved.