I'm a mess. It's been awhile since I even touched my first Richonne fic, but this idea has been floating around in my head and I figured I'd put pen to paper (metaphorically speaking) and give it a shot. Please let me know what you think! Your feedback is greatly appreciated.
"If this is a program for 'at risk youths' why do I have to go?" Carl Grimes shifted the stringy brown strains of hair that had matted to his sweaty forehead. His father, Rick, let out a hot breath as he glanced over at his son for the umpteenth time during their car ride to the town activity center. It was a muggy July morning in Kings County, one that was surely gearing up to be a hot day. This Saturday also had the makings of being a tough one for his 12-year-old son, who would rather be shouting into his headset while battling online strangers in his prized video game Call of Duty.
Earlier that morning, Rick overheard the rapid jamming of the controller buttons on his way to the bathroom. He gently pressed his son's bedroom door open and found him with a cereal spoon dangling from his mouth as he rested inside the cavernous dip of a bean bag chair that had seen better days. Lori, Rick's ex-wife, had chided him about his purchase and placement of the gaming system. According to her stuffy parenting magazines she valued more than her ex-husbands opinion, acquiring the violence inducing game console was the first poor choice and installing said console in your child's bedroom where you couldn't monitor their activity was the final nail in the coffin.
As usual, Rick listened to Lori's concerns and weighed out the pros and cons. Carl only shared his father's home every other weekend and Rick always made sure he completed two hours of homework every day before he sealed himself to that god awful bean bag. However, Rick was starting to come around to his ex-wife's point of view. It felt like every time Lori would bring Carl by for his weekend the only thing in acknowledgement that he was offering up to his dad was a two second two armed hug, then he would sprint up to his bedroom and only reemerge when the delivery guy rang the doorbell signaling dinner.
So this morning Rick decided that it was time he checked out the summer art program that was being run through the Sherriff's department with the help of a local artist who just moved into town. The inaugural first day was two weeks ago but Rick and Carl were on a camping and fishing excursion for a week with his father and the next weekend was used to catch up on paperwork back in the office.
Rick felt bad for missing out on the first two weekends especially since he was so vocal and dedicated in getting the program started. Jessie Anderson, the only other single parent in his son's carpool, had jumped at the idea when he casually mentioned it to her when he dropped Carl off for a sleepover. So he volunteered her (after running it by Jessie and receiving an enthusiastic yes) to run the program from 9:00 am to 12:00 pm. Unfortunately, Jessie backed out two weeks ago while the Grimes men were on their vacation and Daryl Dixon, Rick's partner, managed to sign on his girlfriend's best friend to man the helm. Sasha Williams apparently had a friend who was finishing up an exhibit in New York City and moving down to Georgia to get away from the fast paced lifestyle of the city. So it all worked out perfectly, except for the tiny matter of Rick never meeting the program director. Now this was his chance to rectify that, and get Carl out of the house before he prematurely aged his eyes.
"I think it'll be a good idea for you to try somethan' different. Get to spend some time with the kids around here and not those virtual strangers you get into shoutin' matches with. I'm a Sheriff, I should know better than letting you interact with people you don't know."
Carl sighed, reaching for the car door handle, "I know, but this is the only time I get to play it. Mom only lets me use the computer for one hour every day."
"And that's a good thang. You should be going outside, gettin' some fresh air or reading book."
"You know I have my comic books." Carl released his hand from the door and slumped back into the car seat. It was a constant reminder for Rick to not take any of this personally. The divorce might have been 8 months old but the gash like wound it left was still being held together by a measly Band-Aid. Lori hadn't made it easy on anyone especially with the list of demands she had for Rick. After finally getting everything she wanted, within reason to Rick, they had fallen into a steady schedule of hand offs and drop offs with very little disruption. Except for the past two months, where Carl was extending his weekends into five day visits or entire weeks. Rick didn't really care about the excuses he was happy to have more time with his son; even if it meant Carl spending the majority of it in his room.
"How about this? We check out this art thang and after we'll run down to the Archie's and then grab some burgers. Does that sound fair?" Archie's was the nearest comic book shop a town over that Carl couldn't get enough off. They only made the trip a few times a month because if he could have it his way he'd clean out his father's wallet with as many comics as possible.
Pretending to think it over, Carl brought a contemplative finger to this chin, "And ice cream after? Two scoops?"
"One and you've got yourself a deal." With the plan set in place the two men made their way down from Rick's pickup truck. His cowboy boots picked up small clouds of dirt and settled themselves to the cuffs on his dark jeans as he made his way across the unfinished parking lot. Carl ran ahead, probably ready to get this thing over with, leaving his father to traverse the way by himself.
Rick entered the Kings County town center and took a look around. It seemed to be busy with the general Saturday crowd. A few moms from the PTA had successfully petitioned to start a farmer's market and the fruits of their labor were showcased inside the Rec center where Rick assumed the program would take place. He moved through the room keeping an eye out for Carol Peltier head mom of the local PTA gang. Instead he found a woman in the back corner of the room bent down thumbing through a paint splattered canvas bag. Her toned arms moved deftly as she worked her way amongst the various items inside. She wore a simple black thin cotton dress that seemed to whisper against her thighs then cling to firm round buttocks that hid beneath the material as she stood up and apprehended her long white canvas. The thick pen that she collected from the bag began to move in a series of loops and sudden turns as she slid the felt tip across the white surface. The women would pause every now and then and survey her work running a lone finger along the base of her tightly combed fro. She would take a few steps back and then another forward, envisage and add on.
It was beautiful rhythmic dance that was further enticing by her shapely form. Rick was a well-mannered good ole southern boy, one that never let his gaze linger for more than the polite few seconds it took to acknowledge a person's presence. But this woman floating back and forth around the canvas wasn't doing him any favors.