Sophia's Favorite Things
Carol woke up one morning and she knew it had to be done. The group was moving into the house today, and she kept telling herself that it would just be more work to move those things. They were just taking up space now, after all.
She sat outside of her tent, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her heavy head on her knees as she watched the sun rise. She had gotten up before dawn since the day at the barn, plagued with nightmares that woke her up in the night. Strange, abstract dreams that she could never remember as soon as she woke up, her blanket wrapped around her legs and tears rolled down to her collarbone. She never even tried to go back to bed after them.
The box sits in front of her, at a safe enough distance that it wasn't taunting her. It was a pink, worn down shoebox that Sophia had kept her favorite light up sneakers with flowers on the sides in. She kept her most favorite belongings in it, and she always called it her special box. But it wasn't of much use now, was it?
She starts to shake when she reaches for it, and she feels like she's going to puke. She just wants to run into the woods, and throw the box as far as she can. But it just doesn't sit right with her until she looks through it one last time. "I can do this." She mumbles to herself, letting out a drawn out breath before reaching into the box.
The locket that Carol had given her for her last birthday sits in her hands first. She had wanted it so bad, and even though Ed hit her afterwards, it was okay because she was so happy that day. Ed had always said that she shouldn't be wearing jewelry at such a young age.
Carol had just sat the locket on the ground when she heard footsteps in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat; no one was usually up that early. "Daryl." She says, and she can't decide if she sounded relieved or scared. He gives her a reassuring nod, and she tries to smile at him. He has been so distant lately, so angry. She almost wants to cry when he sits down in front of her, she had figured she might have lost the only person that she had left. "I think it's probably time that I got rid of this stuff."
She's hesitant to continue, but when Daryl doesn't speak she picks up the diary that Sophia had scribbled in since she was only a few years old. Carol laughs when she opens up to the first page; a colorful doodle of Carol that Sophia had drawn the first day she got it. None of the body parts are proportionate, and the colors of her clothes bleed out of the lines, but it's perfect. "She was so precious." Carol says when she turns the drawing to Daryl. "That's supposed to be me." She almost laughs, and Daryl just looks at it, blinking at the messing "Mommy" written along the bottom of the page. He looks up her, noticing the tears in her eyes. Carol fingers through the rest of the diary, but she drops it to the ground as soon as Sophia had started to write about the walkers.
The last thing in the box is the doll. It was the broken, faded doll that Sophia had in her arm every day. The doll that Daryl had found when he was looking for her. Carol had made sure to put it in the box that day, because she knew that's where Sophia would look for it when she got back. "She had left all her dolls behind when we left home." Carol says, trying to brush away the dirt and mud clothing the doll. "She loved her the moment she got it."
"Hey," Daryl speaks up when she's about to drop it back in the box. He hesitates to speak when she looks up at him. "Do you think maybe I could keep that?" He says it kind of quiet, picking at the dirt in his fingernails. The tears come before he is even finished talking. When he looks back up at her she's covering her mouth with her hand, looking at him with eyes clouded with water. "Damn." He coughs, suddenly more uncomfortable than he already was. "It's aight. I ain't care that much anyway."
"Its perfect-" She says, and Daryl can barely hear it. "It's perfect with you." She finishes, wiping at her face before she hands it to him.
"It's okay." He shakes his head, and he gets up to his feet. "I don't want it."
Carol scrambles to her feet as soon as he does. She steps closer to him, grasping his rough, calloused hands, roughly forcing the doll into them. "I want you to take it." She nods with reassurance, forcing a sly smile on her face. He takes it fast, and then he is gone. Carol is pretty sure he will act like it didn't happen when it's time for breakfast.
She takes them to the edge of the forest, ready to sit them down and leave them there forever. But when she's about to walk away, she thinks of Daryl, and what happened earlier. For the past few days the only thing Carol could think about what how she wanted to forget. Forget the end of the world; forget about the thing that looked like her daughter she saw wonder out of the barn. But then Carol though about the birthdays, and the mother/daughter lunches, and the way Sophia laughed. She remembered the look in her face when Carol would carry her across the yard, or make her favorite sandwich for lunch. Carol all of sudden remembered that she didn't want to forget about her daughter, and that the box of her favorite things wasn't meant to be left alone, but to be at Carol's side, so she could never forget about the exceptional daughter that she was proud to have had.