Susan was not in the best of moods when she left her doctor's appointment. Dr Keller had told her that she was not gaining enough weight with this pregnancy, and it was with great difficulty that Susan refrained from telling her it was because she was for all intents and purposes running her household by herself.
She had mostly got over her cross mood by the time she came into the clearing, but it came back straight away when she saw the horrendous mess that had been her clothesline, and her husband standing beside it.
"Mama!" shouted Rickon, running toward her with a muddy bedsheet hanging from his shoulders like a cape. Susan threw up her hands and looked from her son to her husband in dismay.
"I'm so sorry," Jon said quickly, knowing his face was deep red and wishing he did not feel the wild urge to laugh at the absurdity of this spectacle. That, he knew, would be a quick way to get Susan even angrier than she already was; with effort, he swallowed and went on. "He just ran out, Ghost was with him so I didn't think he'd do any harm until he came back in. I'm sorry." He felt his own anger and frustration boiling up inside him and swallowed again, beating back every protest he wanted to make. It's not my fault, she knows it's not my fault, he reminded himself, but it didn't stop him from feeling like he should apologize some more.
Susan reminded herself that it couldn't be helped. Jon couldn't help it that he couldn't move quickly enough to keep Rickon out of trouble, yet he had insisted he could keep an eye on Rickon without help. He had insisted.
She reminded herself again that it couldn't be helped, and that Jon was trying to be helpful and he had to be frustrated that he couldn't do as much around the house as he was used to.
It was still very, very difficult not to get angry. Those were all the sheets they had; she'd stripped the beds that morning. If they wanted clean sheets to sleep on tonight, she'd have to wash them again right now or they wouldn't have time to dry.
To redo work she'd already done.
Without speaking to either Jon or Rickon, she pried the sheet free from Rickon's dirty fingers, causing a squawk of disappointment, and stalked towards the house. She would draw water for washing and put it on to heat, and then gather up all the dirty laundry.
"Fuck," Jon muttered under his breath, shoving his hand through his hair and resisting the urge to tear it out. He was furious now-- with himself for declaring himself able to do a job for which he was clearly still unfit, with Rickon for being such an incessant troublemaker, with Susan for not even pretending she wasn't upset, and with the universe at large for his fall and every single difficulty he'd had since then.
We ought to be happy right now, he thought dully, propping himself on one crutch and using the other to lift the dirty laundry awkwardly up from the ground. We ought to be getting ready for the baby. Instead... He stopped that train of thought from continuing and focused instead on maneuvering the end of his crutch under the laundry and lifting it to a point where he could reach it. It was slow going; he had only retrieved a sheet and two of Susan's dresses when he heard her footsteps behind him again.
Comments 17
She had mostly got over her cross mood by the time she came into the clearing, but it came back straight away when she saw the horrendous mess that had been her clothesline, and her husband standing beside it.
"Mama!" shouted Rickon, running toward her with a muddy bedsheet hanging from his shoulders like a cape. Susan threw up her hands and looked from her son to her husband in dismay.
Reply
Reply
She reminded herself again that it couldn't be helped, and that Jon was trying to be helpful and he had to be frustrated that he couldn't do as much around the house as he was used to.
It was still very, very difficult not to get angry. Those were all the sheets they had; she'd stripped the beds that morning. If they wanted clean sheets to sleep on tonight, she'd have to wash them again right now or they wouldn't have time to dry.
To redo work she'd already done.
Without speaking to either Jon or Rickon, she pried the sheet free from Rickon's dirty fingers, causing a squawk of disappointment, and stalked towards the house. She would draw water for washing and put it on to heat, and then gather up all the dirty laundry.
Reply
We ought to be happy right now, he thought dully, propping himself on one crutch and using the other to lift the dirty laundry awkwardly up from the ground. We ought to be getting ready for the baby. Instead... He stopped that train of thought from continuing and focused instead on maneuvering the end of his crutch under the laundry and lifting it to a point where he could reach it. It was slow going; he had only retrieved a sheet and two of Susan's dresses when he heard her footsteps behind him again.
Reply
Leave a comment