"Two people departed...in search of love...leaving love in between"
― Santosh Avvannavar, The Departing Point: Two people departed...in search of love...leaving love in between
"Dear child your hands are saying a lot to me."
"Yeah?" Michonne tried to peer at her open palms the old woman was holding outward to see if she too could find anything so interesting.
"You will have found the Daddy you came out here looking for."
"I will?"
"You have."
"I have?"
"Yes. You certainly will have him. Mark my words."
"Where?"
"In front of you." The woman whispered conspiratorially. Michonne glanced in the direction the woman was leading her, and all she saw was a white man sitting at least 10 feet away talking on his cellphone.
Michonne looked to either side of him and past him hoping to see a man of color, preferably darker than with no pinks and hues of red like a white man. She wanted someone with a decent afro or dreads like how she wore her hair but there wasn't anyone that matched her vision of a man she could bring home to her children. Not a single Daddy in the vicinity from where she sat, and Michonne considered her vision near perfect.
"I think I will pass." Michonne said without hesitation.
"You will find yourself unable when you two finally lock eyes."
"I promise you, I don't stare at strangers. I am certainly not locking eyes with them. My Granny always said to divert your eyes when it comes to..." Michonne trailed off realizing her audience was a white woman around her Granny's age. What she was about to say could be perceived as racist. She reconsidered just in time. She was going to say to never look a white man in the eyes because it makes them nervous and crazy. A black woman must always divert.
"He will do a lot of diverting his eyes at first. Don't take it the wrong way. It just means he thinks you are beautiful and he is painfully attracted to you."
"Ha!" Michonne scoffed loudly.
The thought of being considered beautiful was laughable and inconceivable. She was okay with being considered attractive but beautiful in her mind was taking things a bit too far. Pretty even.
She grew up in a household with no mother to be found and no father that she could remember. No one was giving out compliments and she never received any and when she did, she was easily led astray.
Michonne's Granny raised her some, and her Stuttering Uncle Charlie oversaw the rest. She was never told much about her looks and didn't really get much notice until her senior year, and her Granny said it was only because the boys were in heat and needed something to rub up against until they find a wife. She was not to be a humping post. Don't give away the milk for free.
Michonne did not take the advice because she ended up pregnant with Andre a few months later and played house for a while with the high school dropout. She gave away her milk, lunch money and good sense during that time. That is what her Granny said.
Essentially she was nothing more than a humping post. Whenever Mike wanted to, she was always there, ready. Prowling around her bedroom window in the dark or sitting in a car he borrowed was no kind of young man worth anything. And Granny was right.
It took Mike getting into trouble with the law to break the spell she was under. Almost 10 years of her life she couldn't get back. Now Michonne had a woman sitting next to her at the airport telling her that her children's Daddy was going to be a white looking serial killer? No, ma'am.
"You've made some mistakes. We all make them. Some make more than others and you seem to have your fair share. How many children?"
"Eight."
"How old is the youngest?"
"Three years old. Two sets of twins. My Granny says that God was in a good mood to bless but he was blessing the wrong sisters giving extra mouths to feed. She said breast was made for nursing but when the time was done it would be saggy flesh on the chest. Ain't right for a young girl to produce and produce. You get used up to quickly and no one is going to want a saggy tiddy in her twenties and you might as well hang it up in your thirties."
"Well your sister is highly grateful to you. She told me to tell you so. She's happy you came back to Georgia and stepped in to help. She's glad that you are allowing the kids to call you Mama. Makes it easier that you and your sister were identical, huh?"
"How did you know?"
"Her name was Suzanna and she died giving birth to the last set of twins. She says she misses you something terrible. She said to tell you that your Great Grand Father isn't well and you need to hurry back to check up on him. He's not eating. He thinks your Granny is trying to poison him in order to get the house."
Michonne was in tears. She was turning into a blubbering mess.
"Mother! What are you doing over here? I'm sorry ma'am. Please excuse my mother. Come with me. I was looking all over this airport for you, Mother."
The older woman's daughter came and escorted the old woman away without incident. Michonne dabbed her eyes with the Kleenex she found in her purse. She had to get it together.
Michonne was sitting alone across from the man who she had not once considered and for whatever reason he had taken notice of her. When people stare too long at her, she did what her sister wasn't known to do, and what her Granny warned her of, she smiled.
A/N: As the story continues to alternate you (Reader) will find that Michonne is talkative compared to the show Michonne. Her talkative nature may be off putting but there is a reason for it but you will not discover it or understand it until waaaaay in the story. The same with Rick. You will not understand until chapters later.
