Work Text:
Saturday afternoon, and Cassie finally figured out why she'd been so irritable all afternoon. Tomorrow was Sunday, May 11.
She could get through it. She could simply pretend not to know what day it was. No; that wouldn't work. Sam would expect something; she couldn't just ignore how much Sam had done to try to step into Mom's place. She suddenly banged her bottle of laundry soap on the washer lid in the basement of her dorm, making the metal ring and causing two or three people nearby to look up in alarm. Looming up, swamping even her memories of Janet Fraiser, were the old, old memories. Her first mom. Tilly of the Potter's Village. She didn't think about her first family much any more. So many other memories had piled on top of the ones of her early life.
But now, standing here with stupid tears on her face in the middle of the laundry room, it was like a flashback. The open hearth in their cottage. Her older brother, and his wife and their baby. Her dad and his strong, work-worn hands. Her mother, saving a treat for her, singing to her at night.
She abandoned her laundry and went down the hall to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face until the tears receded again.
She could send Sam an e-card and just get on with things. She could do this. She'd done it before, and she could get through tomorrow. A broken heart never killed anyone. At least it hadn't killed her so far.