|inkonstage (inkonstage) wrote in repose,|
@ 2019-10-25 20:20:00
|Entry tags:||*log, *narrative, derek friggsdottir, marta flores|
Live and Breathe: Derek / Marta
Who: Marta and then Derek
What: Marta's first day back at work
Where: Recovery -> new house -> Live and Breathe
When: This week
Warnings/Rating: Not to start (other than talk of Marta's rehab).
Her release and move had gone smooth enough. The days leading up had been filled with just as many meetings with groups and her doctor, with a few extra things thrown in - paperwork and directions and planning out schedules and routines. Enough to do throughout the days that the impending panic about leaving someplace that had become safe was kept at bay until the lights went out for the evening. She knew that her doctor knew she wasn't sleeping very well - it was written on her face in those long-familiar bruises taking up their old residence beneath her eyes where the skin was thinnest. There'd been more than one mention of it in passing, but Marta didn't want to accept the sort of medication that would (only possibly) make sleep easier. It might also give her night terrors again, and she didn't want to take that chance. It was a matter of getting through the days, managing the anxiety, finding a new "normal".
Maybe the idea about transitional housing wasn't such a bad one. She'd known it wasn't, but there were stubborn moments, wanting to prove to
him everyone that she could do this. On her own. And it took a lot for her to admit that she probably couldn't. Not right away, at least.
Papers signed, car arranged (not through any financial backer, not a familiar driver behind the wheel), the moment came for goodbyes. She hated them, but was warmed by the number of people that circled around to wish her well. And then... then, she wasn't an inpatient for the first time in months.
...Of course, there was more to it than that. How could there not be?
There'd been calls facilitated by her doctor so that the police would release her belongings from being "evidence" in Destiny's disappearance. There'd been emails with her new roommates. There'd actually been a perusal of the Repose Rec Department's catalog to see what sort of classes were being offered. Plans to fill her time, what there was of it that wasn't already claimed by something else. There'd been packing up her room, choosing what to wear that morning. There'd been hands that wouldn't stop shaking through her entire ride to the new house. There'd been warm but still cautious greetings. There'd been a moment of disbelief when standing in the doorway of her room, her things already there and waiting to be unpacked. They filled only a few boxes, tucked into the corner, and she hoped that the few things that were truly important to her had been packed safely and were alright.
It took her most of the weekend to settle in and stop feeling like she was in some sort of place that was just a few steps off of normal. Housework was discussed and meals were eaten at a big dining room table. She talked to her new roommates (her voice only sometimes failing her) and began to get to know their personalities. She unpacked the boxes and flattened them to store under the bed for whenever she would need them to move again. All her clothes were wrinkled, which wasn’t so much an issue for the things she wore that were soft and oversized, but she cringed at the state of her work clothes. The things Derek had too-generously bought for her months ago looked sad even once they were hung up, and she was hopelessly grateful that one of her roommates was able to teach her how to use the iron in the laundry area. And when she wasn’t busy doing any of those other things, she connected herself to the WiFi and scoured YouTube for all the yoga, meditation, and dance videos she could find. Anything to keep her mind busy for the moment.
Monday morning came after two days that were somehow the longest she’d ever experienced and also the shortest. The distance to Repose meant that she had to get up early, but the facility had gotten her used to it, at least. Up and stretch and shower and breakfast. Dressed and hair and makeup and walking the ten minutes to the bus stop, rechecking the bus schedule more than once on her way, and more than once when she’s reached the stop itself. The ride was long and the scenery wasn’t very interesting, and it was obvious after only about half the ride that she was going to need to find something to keep her occupied every day, there and back. It was a question to think about when she wasn’t just outside of town with her heart beating hard in the back of her throat.
And then they were pulling up to the station, another few blocks of walking, and Live and Breathe was there in front of her, like she’d never even left.