The instinct is no, but that's not fair, really. Maybe they would have more understanding for the circumstances she's found herself in; maybe they would be proud of the ways that she's adapted, how she's made her situation work for her. Maybe it would matter, the way she desperately wants it to matter, that she still cares if they'd be proud of her. That she still tries.
What she settles on, eventually, is: βI really have no way of knowing.β
Guenievre, whose name Libby definitely didn't forget how to spell for like a year, was never permitted close to her daughter. The moments that they shared were fleeting and impersonal and strange, and the last months that they spent together before the elder woman's death hampered by that awkwardness, by the uncertainty of both, their inability to bridge a gap that had been created purposefully. Anneβ
Her mother was a wounded animal in a trap. GwenaΓ«lle thinks she'd have been cruel, too, in her place.
βThey never intended the lessons they taught me to be used as they are. Maybe it would still matter that I remember the lessons. I'd like that to be true.β
no subject
What she settles on, eventually, is: βI really have no way of knowing.β
Guenievre, whose name Libby definitely didn't forget how to spell for like a year, was never permitted close to her daughter. The moments that they shared were fleeting and impersonal and strange, and the last months that they spent together before the elder woman's death hampered by that awkwardness, by the uncertainty of both, their inability to bridge a gap that had been created purposefully. Anneβ
Her mother was a wounded animal in a trap. GwenaΓ«lle thinks she'd have been cruel, too, in her place.
βThey never intended the lessons they taught me to be used as they are. Maybe it would still matter that I remember the lessons. I'd like that to be true.β