@the-lady-oneill
Genie had not known where to go after that night, the night where everything had been falling apart, the night where she had left. I want to be with my children, she had told Micheleine as the sound of the rebels neared, the bombs closer. Oolio has left you, we need to leave. She had tried to take the woman with her, the best friend she had despised for thirty-five years, she had tried to take with her, loyal to the end, but she had been unmoved. And then the threat, the veiled threat, just as it had been with her husband five years ago.
And so she had left. Taken the girl with her, the translator, Gilma, the one who touched everything. Stole everything. Her bag and pockets were full and Micheleine’s shoes were in her hands when she climbed into the car.
But after that, she had not known where to go, did not know where to find her sons, they had never given an address and so she tried to contact them, to find them, and now she was here, where she knew Ultana lived, remembering when they had spoken, when she had visited. It felt another lifetime ago, and she felt worried and ridiculous on the doorstep, dwarfed by the residence, still in her green dress. waiting, hope she was right to do this, waiting for someone to arrive, to let her in, to take her to the woman, a woman who might be a friend still.
