You Wouldn't Like Me
Meredith just stands where they leave her for a few moments after Sean and Lexie go, willing herself to be a little calmer. Under her cold exterior, she's frazzled, and now that she's on her own, it's hard to keep that under the surface. She heads outside to check on the dog, which turns into playing with Doc, and somehow, throwing his stupid toy across the yard for him to retrieve proves more soothing than she'd expected. He's all enthusiasm; he doesn't understand how bad everything is, so for a few minutes, it's like nothing is.
She should have gone with them, she thinks, just so she could get food, start her day. She's sorely tempted instead to do what Sean was asking and find the Scotch. It's enough that one of them intends to start the day like that, though, and whether or not she likes it - and when it's a question of Lexie, she hates it - she seems to be the one in charge of making sure everyone's okay, keeping everything running. All she wants is to burrow back in bed and start over again, have it all be a dream.
Instead she makes the bed, retrieving the blanket from where she left it on the floor, before climbing back under to draw it tight around her. She doesn't have work. There's no reason she should have to do anything but lay here, wallowing, irritation and something stronger sweeping back over her as soon as she stops moving. This life she has now, the things she wants from it, are hard enough without all the memories Lexie brings back, chiefly of things she never had, memories she doesn't get to have.
Screw that. She gets up and finds the alcohol anyway, pours herself a glass and hides it again (it disappears fast enough as it is and anyway, it's Robin's. Was Robin's. This is the sort of thing she told Robin she doesn't do). One isn't a problem. It's not much of a solution either, as it turns out, but back in bed with the blanket over her head again, it's a start. She doesn't even realize she's actually managed to drift off again until the sound of someone in the house wakes her. It's not enough, though, to make her move.
She should have gone with them, she thinks, just so she could get food, start her day. She's sorely tempted instead to do what Sean was asking and find the Scotch. It's enough that one of them intends to start the day like that, though, and whether or not she likes it - and when it's a question of Lexie, she hates it - she seems to be the one in charge of making sure everyone's okay, keeping everything running. All she wants is to burrow back in bed and start over again, have it all be a dream.
Instead she makes the bed, retrieving the blanket from where she left it on the floor, before climbing back under to draw it tight around her. She doesn't have work. There's no reason she should have to do anything but lay here, wallowing, irritation and something stronger sweeping back over her as soon as she stops moving. This life she has now, the things she wants from it, are hard enough without all the memories Lexie brings back, chiefly of things she never had, memories she doesn't get to have.
Screw that. She gets up and finds the alcohol anyway, pours herself a glass and hides it again (it disappears fast enough as it is and anyway, it's Robin's. Was Robin's. This is the sort of thing she told Robin she doesn't do). One isn't a problem. It's not much of a solution either, as it turns out, but back in bed with the blanket over her head again, it's a start. She doesn't even realize she's actually managed to drift off again until the sound of someone in the house wakes her. It's not enough, though, to make her move.