. (spacecowboys) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2013-10-02 02:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | catwoman, mary jane watson |
Who: Wren and MK
What: A run-in that goes terribly
Where: Luvbug Baby
When: Recently (Fuzzy timeline)
Warnings/Rating: Language? Screaming? Misery?
Wren had carefully and determinately avoided anything that even resembled a store that catered to baby things. She thought it would jinx things, or she thought it would be begging for trouble, or she thought it would make things too real. But now, at the very beginning of her fifth month, it was kind of hard to pretend this baby wasn't happening. And, maybe, it was time to just accept it and not worry so very much. And, really, that was the whole reason for her being at Luvbug Baby that day. Evie was giving her everything Daisy had outgrown, so it wasn't actually necessity. It was more like being really, really stubborn, and like trying to face her own fears without Luke there to hold her hand.
The day was sunny and cool, by Vegas standards, but Wren was still glad to walk into the air conditioned store. She was dressed in a loose skirt to the knees, white and cotton and drawstring, and the cream shirt that hugged her growing belly made it very, very obvious that she needed to buy some maternity clothes soon. Or, better yet, see if Evie had anything that fit. She was shorter than her friend, plumper too, but she was sure she'd find something. Saving money had become a new obsession these days, and it had even managed to win out over her security-blanket bus and train ticket purchases. She was working, but the night shifts felt like they lasted forever lately, and she really wasn't sure how long she would be able to keep it up.
But none of that mattered just then, because the store was overwhelming, and any fear Wren expected to feel was nowhere to be found. She greeted the friendly woman behind the counter at customer service, and she assured her that she didn't need any help, and then she moved forward on faded and worn flats. She picked up a stuffed cow along the way, tiny and soft, and she rubbed a furry ear between her fingers as she wandered through the aisles of cribs and changing tables and rocking chairs. In the end, she couldn't resist sitting in one of the larger rocking chairs. It was white and sturdy, and it looked like it belonged on a porch somewhere, save for the bright yellow ducklings on the white cushions that made it feel like heaven after the walk from the bus stop in her old shoes.
Wren set the stuffed cow on her belly, and she reached back to the pricetag that hung from one of the chair's slats. "Well, how much do you think this costs, vache?" she asked the little white and black stuffed cow.
Though MK denied it (and, Adam, too), for all intents and purposes, MK was an absolute wreck. It wasn’t just a matter of drinking all the time or refusing to step foot in her apartment at Turnberry. Nor was it the fact that she was thinking about returning to the party scene she desperately needed so much at the moment. (She kept telling herself that she didn’t need the pills or cocaine or the loud music pulsing through her body, but at this moment in her life, it was the only thing worth having at all.) No, it was also the cycles she went through. The crippling depression that left her on Adam’s couch for days upon days, wanting little more than to be left alone with a bottle of something strong and maybe his comforting hands now and again. Or, it was the manic sort of hysteria that had her bouncing around and pretending that there was absolutely nothing wrong! She played with the puppy, she cleaned Adam’s apartment, she could actually attempt intimacy (which still ended in misery and messiness, but she could at least try). In the mania, MK could do anything she wanted, especially if she had a buzz going on. Then, it felt like the world could possibly turn out okay.
When she stepped out of Adam’s apartment, faking it was a lot harder. The sunlight blared down, and the tourists smiled gleefully, and the entire world was so much better off than she was, weren’t they? Fuck them and the magic carpets they floated in on. But, with a few drinks in her system, she was okay to venture out. And, with a couple swigs from her flask in the car, she thought, why the fuck not and drove to the baby store where she’d ordered a lot of things for the baby that would never be coming. She told herself it was to check if she could return it, but a sick part of her wanted to walk through there one last time and play make-believe.
She started at the customer service desk, speaking to a girl who wrinkled her nose at the slight smell of booze on her breath about the return policy before wandering off to glance around the store. Seeing all the happy women with swelling bellies reawoke those feelings of helplessness, and a sharp twang in her chest. As she turned into one aisle, she had already pulled out her phone and began searching for Adam’s number. If he picked her up, maybe she could convince him to take her out. She couldn’t stay inside again, not tonight. Not in his apartment, at least. Maybe get a hotel room and curl up in a bed with him with some room service and minibar booze.
But, before she pressed his name, she heard a familiar voice. “Wren?” she asked softly when she saw the blonde sitting in a rocking chair a little further down the aisle. Two-and-two didn’t click at first, but the second MK saw the swollen belly, it made sense. “Oh,” was all she could say. She knew Wren and Adam had had a run about a month beforehand, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about her being pregnant.
If Wren had know where MK's thoughts were, she would have felt even worse. A month earlier, she'd been sick and thin and hiding behind clothing that didn't fit right, and Adam hadn't noticed. But now, after starting on insulin and prenatals, there wasn't any way she could hide anything at all. But Wren wasn't even thinking about where MK's thoughts might be, because she was so surprised to hear the redhead's voice that she couldn't think about anything at all. She was like a deer in headlights, and the rocking chair stopped moving completely. She tried to figure out if she could run, because that's really what she wanted to do. She wanted to run, because she'd never, ever wanted MK to learn she was pregnant at all. And maybe that had been a really terrible plan in the first place, and Luke had told her they couldn't hide a baby forever, but it would have been so much easier than this.
But, eventually, Wren had no choice but to lift her gaze and make eye-contact with the woman standing in front of her. MK smelled booze-sweet, even from where Wren was sitting, and Wren ached at the path her friend was walking. Just like that, all the pity she'd begun to feel for Adam since seeing him at the grocery store disappeared, because he was letting this happen. It was so very, very easy for her to see her old best friend as a victim in every situation, and she was the very opposite of unbiased. She stood, after a second, and she bit her lip and took a step forward. "Hi," she said tentatively. "I was just-" she paused, and she looked back at the chair, "rocking." She twisted the little cow in half, wringing it out with her hands, and the look she gave MK was all grey apology.
MK stepped closer in the interim of silence, click, click of her heels drowned out by the dulcet melody playing on the overhead speakers. Something by Vanessa Carlton or Mandy Moore or one of those unthreatening popstars with soft voices. Exactly what expectant mothers wanted to listen to as they shopped for their bassinets and burp cloths with cute cartoon animals stitched onto them. It was all supposed to feed into a blissful, soothing, happy experience for every person who strolled into the store. Because having a baby come into your life was supposed to be a happy experience, right? But, not for MK. She would never have that elated joy of holding the baby that grew inside of her for nine months. (Of course, she never considered the possibility of trying again. Adam didn’t want the first one, why would he want another?) But, Wren would know this happiness, that much was clear. She already had her perfect husband, her perfect son, her perfect house with a picket fence. And now, she would have her perfect little baby, too.
“You’re pregnant,” MK said with quiet surprise, that quiet surprise hiding away her envy enough for it to seem like genuine happiness. “You’re pregnant,” she repeated, as if saying the words again and again and again would actually make it seem more like a reality. “Adam didn’t say--he didn’t tell me--.” She coughed, twisted her hands together in front of her like a shy schoolgirl, and pursed her lips. “Congratulations, kitten. How far? How far along?”
Wren didn't really know if she wanted MK to come closer, or if she wanted to run away. Once upon a time, she would have been so unbelievably happy to see MK. But now, she was just worried about making MK worse, or about saying the wrong thing. And, really, she wasn't even sure there was a right thing, not just then. MK had lost her baby, and there was no way at all that Wren could make this easy for her friend. She bit her lip, and she waited, figuring it was best to let MK say something else, or to not say anything else at all, depending on what MK needed to do. She stopped moving, too, and she just waited, and she wished she had invited Luke along. Luke always knew what to say to MK; he was so much better at feelings than she was.
Wren nodded slowly when MK stated the obvious, and then she spoke in a rush, apologetically. "I didn't know until my first trimester was ending. I've never been regular, and I just- I didn't want to get tested, I guess," she said, as if not knowing would make it all better. Basically, it was her version of I didn't lie, but even she knew that left more than an entire month unaccounted for. She could have told MK then, but she hadn't known how. "I don't think he noticed? I was- I was sick, and the baby was underweight, and I didn't really blow up until the past few weeks, when I finally went to the doctor." She took a breath, then, realizing she was running all her words together. "Five months." She bit her lip. "I- Evie's husband died, and she and Daisy have been staying with us, and I just- I didn't know how to tell you," she admitted.
MK’s brain and body hadn’t quite caught up with one another. Her mind was swiftly trying to register “pregnant” together with “Wren”, and somehow stuttering into a failing mess. The redhead just stared openly while the other woman rambled on with excuses and explanations, things that wouldn’t stave off the sting in her chest when it all settled down. She should have known this would happen eventually, if not so soon. Wren and Luke were the blessed ones, the happy ones, and of course they would expand their family soon. She bit down on her lip as she stared at her friend, and then forced a smile on her face. “You’ll have a Christmas baby, then. That’s wonderful. I’m really, really happy for you. I--.” But she had to stop because the sudden burn of tears startled her into silence. MK looked up towards the ceiling to blink away hot tears. Happy, she had to pretend to be happy. “Are Luke and Gus excited? I’m sorry about Evie’s husband. I didn’t know.” She looked down after a moment, back at the blonde, and tried to curl her lip up into another pleased expression. This time, it looked so forced and uncomfortable, but hey, she tried.
“This is incredible, Wren. You’re pregnant.” The words stung her tongue, but this time, she could fake a smile a little better. “Another kid in the house.”
"It wasn't on purpose," Wren spit out, quick and guilty. Luke would have hated to hear her say that, but it was the truth. And, really, if Luke had wanted to have a baby just then, Wren would have probably asked him to wait until MK got better. MK had been Wren's very first friend, and Wren wouldn't have intentionally gotten pregnant right now. And MK's tears, the ones she tried to blink away before Wren could see them, only made Wren feel worse. She even tried to suck in her belly a little as she stood there, but that didn't help very much, and she didn't even notice that MK didn't ask about her being sick. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching a hand out without thinking, fingers skirting along MK's arm. "I'm so sorry." She went quiet as MK tried for a smile, but she knew her friend too well to think it was genuine. "Gus doesn't know yet," she said, and she didn't answer about Luke. It wouldn't make it any better, she thought, to tell MK that Luke was happy, not when Adam hadn't been happy about MK's baby.
Wren gave her friend a sad look. "You don't have to pretend, MK. It's okay."
It wasn’t a salve for her stinging chest, the confession that this was an accidental pregnancy. How was that supposed to make things better? MK sighed deeply and shot Wren a pointed look that said just that. Your words aren’t going to fix a thing, those bloodshot green eyes said before she shrugged, then glanced down at the scuffed-up floor. Obviously, it would never be anything to spite her, Wren getting pregnant. At least for Wren’s part. Oh, the universe was being completely spiteful, that was true. Handing the perfect American dream to Wren and Luke on a silver platter while she and Adam struggled to simply keep their heads above water. She looked up again after a few moments, letting the apologies wash over her like they were nothing. It didn’t matter, what Wren said. Nothing would change the fact that she and Adam just weren’t meant to be happy. Her arm jerked away just a fraction of an inch from Wren’s touch, but enough to be noticed, surely. MK flashed her an apologetic look, suddenly in one of her untouchable moods.
“You should tell Gus,” MK said softly, ignoring Wren’s plea not to fake it. Of course she was going to fake it. She couldn’t tell her how she really felt about it all. That would just be wrong “I bet he’ll be real excited to have a little brother or sister, I’m sure. He’s a good kid. He’ll help. You’re lucky.” Disgustingly so, but MK didn’t say that either.
Wren knew nothing she said could fix this. She couldn't will away her belly, and she couldn't bring MK's baby back, and she couldn't even rewind time and keep from coming to the store. She bit her lip, because there was so many things that she wanted to say, especially in regards to the sweet alcohol smell coming off MK's skin, and in regards to those bloodshot eyes. She was worried, and that showed so very plainly on her face when she looked at her friend.
When MK jerked her hand back that tiny bit, Wren's hand fell away, and hurt flashed on her features. "We will," Wren said of telling Gus, and she wished she had her old friend back, the one she could explain her fears to. She was worried about nightmares, and she was worried about Gotham, and she was so terrified of the memories of giving birth to Gus, of the horror that had followed that. "I'm just worried they'll take the baby away, so I haven't wanted to," she finally said, a small truth that she hoped wouldn't be so bad. And it was a truth. They both knew she'd lost Gus, and that he'd been abused as a result, and that she still didn't actually have any custody of her son. She shrugged her shoulders the littlest bit.
Wren bit her lip again, and she tried to leave it at that, she did try, but worry won out in the end. "I saw Adam." She paused. "He didn't look very good."
If MK caught the look that flashed across Wren’s face, she didn’t give any indication of the sort. She’d grown numb to the concerned looks, especially Wren’s, because what good did it do? The stormy greys that stared up with wide worry, they didn’t heal anything or offer advice or give her the answers she needed. The redhead did, however, flash Wren an apologetic smile when she saw the hurt in her eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled, but offered no explanation for her jump. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her waist, her thin, thin waist, and measured a look on Wren that told her she was trying to be assuring and happy for her. “I don’t think they will, Wren. Even with...everything else. Luke has a stable job now, and you’re around. And Evie’s around, too. It’s going to be okay. Okay?” Her mouth strained to a smile, and then fell again into a harsh, straight line.
“I know. He told me you two ran into each other.” MK shrugged, then waited for a moment before continuing. “We’re both fine. He was probably tired after work or something.” Lies, lies, lies. All lies, but she didn’t want to address her long list of problems in the middle of a place that had become her living hell suddenly. Surrounded by happiness and babies and light, this was her own personal brand of torture. She felt her chest tighten slightly, and her fingers flew up to rest against her clavicle. Looking for solace in the locket she had worn for years, but discarded months before in favor of Adam’s love. Which wasn’t proving to be enough at all. Nothing was.
"Evie moved out. Jack is moving out too. And me being around isn't actually a good thing. I'm not really supposed to have Gus on my own," Wren explained, even as MK's mouth shifted to that straight line. That alone made her take another tiny, half-step forward. "Please? Is there anything I can do?" she asked, though she had no idea what she could possibly do about anything at all. And then MK was telling her that Adam had admitted to running into her, and she couldn't contain the response that bubbled up. "No, he was buying things for you guys to drink. He said you wanted to drink something different that night," she said, and it was worry and sadness and disapproval, all mingled with the wish that she could do something to fix things, but she knew she couldn't, not as long as Adam was around buying alcohol and thinking MK was cursed in some terrible way. It made Wren remember some of the things Adam had said, and it was her turn for her mouth to turn into an unhappy line. Like she had a hundred times before, she wished that MK had someone that took better care of her.
Wren watched MK's hand move to her clavicle, and she hadn't noticed that the locket MK always wore was missing, not until just then. "Did you lose it?" she asked sadly, with a little nod toward where MK's fingers were searching fruitlessly. Wren didn't have anything like that, something filled with all kinds of emotional value, but she assumed it wasn't something that could be replaced. The thought made her turn her wedding ring with her thumb, and unthinkingly twirl of the inexpensive bands. "I'm so sorry," she added helplessly.
MK shrugged again. Wren might have her doubts about everything -- about Gus, about her marriage, about the baby on the way -- but if MK knew one thing, it was that things would eventually work out for Luke and Wren. They always did. It didn’t matter if they were separated for five years, if there were other men or other women; it would always turn out okay. Even if they were struggling now, they had each other. They had Gus. They had another baby. There was Jack and Evie, too. They had a network of support and love and good underneath all of the temporary pain. MK and Adam only had each other. (And, barely that.) “We’re fine,” she said, and it sounded weak. “We’re trying to make it work. I’m staying at his place again, and we’re making it work, okay?” He was all she had nowadays, after losing the only thing she really had to keep her going.
The redhead seemed startled for a second at Wren’s question, and she looked down. “Oh, no.” MK’s hand dropped down immediately and slipped into the front pocket of her jeans. “I stopped wearing it a while ago, since--.” She shrugged, waved her hand idly, and then sighed. It wasn’t appropriate to be wearing that locket anymore, even if she had been thinking about her vigilante a lot lately. A lot more than she had since she’d gotten “clean”, since the baby was around. Now, she wondered all the time what it would be like if he had lived. “Stop apologizing,” MK said, dangerously even, and she shot Wren a pointed look that begged the blonde not to waste her breath on things like that.
Wren didn't actually know how to reply to MK's shrugs, and maybe she was a little glad that MK didn't try to brush away her fears again. She tried to remember what it was like to be able to actually talk to her best friend, but it was so very hard these days, and she ended up just looking at her for a few seconds, wishing things could be like they had been once. And when MK said that she and Adam were fine, Wren's expression just because sadder, because they weren't fine, and it was obvious to anyone with eyes in their head that they weren't fine. "You know, you can smell the alcohol on your skin," she said quietly, and maybe she should have just stayed silent, but she couldn't stand there and just watch MK kill herself, she just couldn't, not after the redhead had come so very, very far.
When MK's hand slipped into the front pocket of her jeans, Wren just watched in momentary confusion, not understanding. A second later, comprehension suffused her features, and she shook her head without thinking. "I don't think you need to stop wearing it, MK." Adam wouldn't mind that, would he? He couldn't. And she was lost in that consideration, and she didn't notice when MK's voice turned dangerous like it did. In truth, she was terrible at predicting when MK's moods were going to turn, even when she was focused on the other girl's tone and inflection. But she heard the words, that request to stop apologizing, and it was instinctive to finish closing the space between them and reach for MK's shoulder. Wren had always been terrible at words. But touch, touch she was good at it, and it was always her go-to in order to comfort. Her fingers closed lightly on MK's shoulder, and she began to apologize again, an unthinking thing.
MK’s free hand slipped up to tug against the red braid that fell over her shoulder, a new habit that developed in rehab that she couldn’t shake off. It wasn’t cutting or popping pills, so Wren should be happy about that. The sharp pull against her skull reminded her that she was here, kept her grounded in a way that she needed to be out in public. “I’ll have to change my perfume, I guess,” MK said, wry smile so empty and lifeless. The purple that would be under her eyes was covered by make-up, but there was a puffiness that narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. Something that told Wren to leave it or else. But Wren was never really good at that, was she? The blonde could never stop niggling at things, and that was what was driving MK further and further away.
She rolled her eyes after a moment when Wren offered her opinion on the locket. “Are you serious?” MK asked incredulously. She bubbled out a laugh. “You’re actually serious, aren’t you? Of course I can’t fucking wear it anymore. He’s dead, and I’m with Adam now.” Her voice was rising over the dulcet tones of Beyonce’s “Halo”, and a few of the would-be mothers who almost turned down the aisle stopped abruptly and backed away. MK’s mouth curled into a strange, confused snarl, and her eyebrows knitted together. As if she couldn’t believe that Wren didn’t understand why she couldn’t keep remnants of a boy she loved around anymore. Not just because it hurt too much, but Adam would never have it. But then, Wren was closing in on her, and she didn’t have time to step away. “Stop,” MK started, jerking her shoulder out of Wren’s grip and stepping to the side, “apologizing. Goddammit, fucking stop.”
Wren barely noticed that tug to MK's braid. She was starting to get really, really worried. She'd been really worried for months, since the miscarriage, but now she was trying to figure out just how much MK must be drinking for her skin to smell like alcohol, and she found that she didn't actually know the answer. She couldn't talk to Adam, not intentionally. Running into him at the store was one thing, but intentionally seeking him out was another, and MK had asked her not to do that months ago. She could ask Luke to talk to Adam, but that relationship was already frayed and, really, Wren was a little glad that it was. Still, in the back of her mind, she worried that Adam might tell someone that Luke had killed people. That particular fear had never really faded, and the fact that she trusted Adam so very little just didn't help at all.
"You both cared about him," Wren said of MK's incredulousness. She didn't see why the locket had to be hidden away, like that boy had never existed. It made her sad, and she tried to imagine a world in which she hid Luke's memory away, should something ever happen to him. "Adam should understand," she said, judgement in the tone of her voice, because she blamed Adam for everything, always. It just made her more certain that MK was in a terrible, emotionally abusive relationship, and she would do absolutely anything to save her friend from that.
So lost in thoughts of saving her friend was she, that Wren didn't notice that jerk until it came, and she jumped back as if she'd been burned when MK cursed. "I just want to help," she said, knowing that she had no idea how. But she didn't know how to back off, and she didn't know how to just pretend she was okay with what MK was doing to herself, what Adam was doing to her, and she thought maybe that was the only way to be MK's friend these days.
“So?” And in tune with her reaction to everything else, MK just shrugged again. It didn’t matter if they both cared about him, if he was the reason they were together in the first place, because he was gone. That dream they both shared, the reason she lost the baby, solidified that for them. “He isn’t here anymore. It’s--I didn’t mean to--it’s stupid to keep thinking about him, Wren. I thought you would be the one happy that I’m trying to move on. I haven’t worn it in a year. It’s fine.” She almost told Wren about the dream finally, but she just growled in frustration and rubbed her neck nervously. “I swear it’s okay.” But, she sounded more like she was convincing herself than the other woman, a game they’d been playing ever since they both arrived in Vegas almost two years ago.
MK used all her might not to roll her eyes, and for the most part stayed steady against Wren’s concern. She did rock on her heels, but didn’t step away from her friend this time. “Saying sorry doesn’t fix things, Wren, good fucking christ. You should know that!” she snapped, before clearing her throat. “There’s nothing to do to help, that’s the end of it. What’s there to fix? You can’t go back in time and stop me from losing the baby. You can’t erase everything that happened with Alexander, or with the symbiote, or him dying.” MK measured a look on Wren, green eyes glassy and not all there, but somehow disturbingly sharp, too. “Can you stop it please? Stop acting like you know what’s best for me, Wren, because you don’t. I’m not like you. We’re not like you and Luke. We don’t get the happy ending.” She could feel the tears pricking her eyes, and the anger and sadness burning up her throat, and she had to glance up and away again, hand curling loosely around her neck. “It’s okay though. We’re the broken ones. They’re always around, and it makes you guys look extra good.”
After a moment, she looked down again, but at their shoes on the floor. “I’m not talking about this right now. Not when you’re baby blissed out and supposed to be celebrating. Cooing over all this stupid bullshit,” she murmured as a hand waved at the shelves lined with baby products.
Wren stared during the outburst, because what else could she do? She stared and, about halfway through, tears started welling up in her eyes. They were tears of anger, and emotion, and hormones, and her shoulders were shaking by the time MK finished. "Stop saying that!" she insisted, loud enough to draw the attention of every quietly shopping mother-to-be. "You don't get to keep saying things about us, and you don't make us look good. We fought for what we have. We didn't give up. We didn't just have it handed to us on a plate. You have no idea what kind of Hell my life has been. No one was having sex with you with you were a child, and I knew Alexander before you, remember? And you absolutely don't have any idea the kind of torment Luke has gone through, so stop it. Stop it! You don't have any right, and neither does Adam. Stop comparing yourselves to us! All we're trying to do is be your friend, to help. All we're trying to do is keeping you from killing yourself, and you act like we're terrible for caring about you, because we do care. And you've gotten mean, MK. You've gotten cruel and mean, even before the baby," she insisted, cheeks going red with her anger and tears sliding down her cheek. She shook her head, and she took another step back. She needed to leave. She needed to get away from this. She was so, so very tired of it.
MK eyes widened as Wren snapped, aghast and taken back by the little pregnant blonde who finally found the straw that broke the camel’s back. She rocked on her heels again as Wren railed further on, and her throat burned more and more. Swallowing down a scared sob or angry tears, oh, did she want something to numb all the emotions she felt at the moment. Her fingers itched for a shot or a pill or a hit of something strong, and wouldn’t it have been nice for her to blame Wren for that later on? She would, she decided, as the other woman spat accusations in her face. MK trembled just a little, and looked at Wren like she had grown five more heads. “Congratu-fucking-lations, Wren! You win the shitty life award! How does it feel, huh? Fuck you,” she said, or growled, or seethed, stepping forward briefly to point her finger in Wren’s direction. “Fuck you so much, Wren. You never try to understand what’s going on in my life, do you? No, it’s just trying to get us all to conform to whatever bullshit lives you have cooked up. Don’t you dare--,” she started, then stopped when her voice cracked for a second. Swallowing hard again, she closed her eyes briefly.
“Don’t you dare tell me I wasn’t trying. I was trying so fucking hard. And I still can’t have what I want. And guess what? At the end of the day, you never lost Luke. Okay? Don’t fucking start off about the time you weren’t together, that was all you, but now everything’s fucking fine and dandy between the two of you. Who gives a shit what you’ve been through when it’s all okay now? You’ve got everything you ever wanted, right?” She opened her eyes, now awash with furious tears, and she took a few steps back, too. “Go be happy, Wren. Congratulations again. I know you guys are probably struggling, so I’ll send you the things I have at my house.” And maybe it was an unfair jab, but Wren had just tried to tear through her. Let her feel that shitty guilt that she just tried to project onto MK. Before she could say anything else, she stepped a little further down the aisle, where concerned mothers were gathering around like hawks, and then slipped away.
Somehow, Wren wasn't anticipating the outburst. Or she wasn't anticipating just how bad the outburst would be. As soon as MK began cursing, Wren began shaking her head, trying to apologize, but the words stuck in her throat, and the tears wouldn't stop. "Stop it!" she managed, but it was barely a thing, and she backed into the crib behind her when MK pointed that finger at her, when MK growled. And that unfair jab, that just made her so very, very ashamed. It took her a few seconds to even react, and MK was already walking away by the time Wren found her voice. But she did find it, eventually, and she yelled after the redhead, her voice tear-hitched and drowning in angry shame. "We don't need anything from you. We aren't struggling!" she insisted, making the decision right then, right there that she was going to find a way to make them more money somehow. "We're fine!" she insisted, thought MK was already at the door. "We're fine," she whispered, softer, to herself, and when that gaggle of mothers-to-be neared, she waved them off, tears and a wave of her hand, as she fled the store.