Chapter 4: Difficult Conversations
"Mom, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to upset you."
This was uncharted territory. Patricia Anthony was the most even tempered woman one could ever have the pleasure of knowing. Her words were always charitable; no hint of anger or discontent. This reaction to a very simple and innocent statement was unexpected—to say the least.
"I just didn't know that you two ever—well, that you were friends." Maybe that question—posed as a statement, just made the situation worse. Michonne was standing before the most stoically calm person she'd ever met; how did this go from 0 to 10 -and rising- over something so seemingly benign.
oooo
As Michonne drove to Mike's house her mind was invaded by an onslaught of unsettling thoughts. The meeting had been—enlightening. This would not be an easy investigation. Her conversation with Carol made it clear that there were things she would need to address with her mother. How would she begin that conversation?
The animosity that she sensed coming from Abraham Ford and Andrea Harrison was to be expected, but still unsettling. How would they all be able to work together? Shane Walsh seemed to be okay, but she and her team would assuredly need to take measured steps along this journey. But her confusion—confusion that she hadn't experienced in years, was centered on Rick Grimes. He was not who she should be thinking about right now—not now.
The closer she got to Mike's house, the heavier the weight of nervousness and fear got. The unbearable heat outside of her car didn't hinder the chills that had suddenly come over her -How do you tell a child that his grandfather wasn't just missing, but had actually been murdered- What is the proper protocol? She was pretty sure that there weren't any books on that particular subject; she had never seen the subject broached on Dr. Phil either.
Every teacher that young Mr. Andre Ridoux had, since he began school, both loved and dreaded his presence in their classroom. His inquisitive nature was un-shakable; never one to give up on any topic until he was completely satisfied with the answer. But, the conversation about his grandfather was not one he delved into. He never questioned the simple answers he'd been given. The younger Ridoux was not only inquisitive, he was also intuitive. His intuitive nature didn't benefit his teachers, but it was quite merciful to his mother and grandmother. His grandfather's disappearance was the proverbial elephant in the room his whole life. Intuitively, he knew the uncomfortable subject should be left alone; as time went on, the invisible elephant faded into the shadows with all the other unasked questions.
Walking to the door of Mike's condo was daunting. The blistering temperature was no match for the growth of searing anxiety she was experiencing; her heart pounded mercilessly. Would this precocious child ask questions that she was too uncomfortable to deal with right now? As she reached out to knock on the door her fears were quickly put to rest when her son—her very beautiful son—who had given her so much drama over the last several months, opened the door with a smile and a nod…"Are you okay mom? Dad told me—and it's gonna be okay," he said while he hugged her.
"Thank you baby." She said as she expelled the weighted breath she'd been holding. "Let's go inside and talk—then we'll all go over to your grandmother's house—I know she's waiting for us."
The drive to the Anthony home was very light. The three talked about the upcoming weekend, possibly going to the movies and relaxing. It almost felt—normal. All the fear and dread of having this very important conversation with her son had slipped into the background; the love and kindness shown to her by both Mike and Andre was at the forefront.
ooooo
Andre burst through his grandmothers door like he'd done since he moved from his pre-toddler 'Frankenstein' walk, to his own little toddler stroll. Every part of his grand mom Patricia's house belonged to him; just like at his grand mom Jacqui's house. Where some children had one home or maybe two, Andre Ridoux had four.
He wrapped his arms around his grandma's chest. He was now her height. He nuzzled his head on to her shoulder and rested his face on hers. Michonne and Mike watched as their son silently gave his unconditional support to the regal matriarch. She kissed him on his cheek and whispered something in his ear that his parents were not privy to. Without a word Andre headed to the kitchen.
"Hey mom," she said as she approached her mother, taking note that her mom had become quiet, reticent—not looking in hers or Mike's direction. Given the circumstances it made perfect sense, but it still felt odd.
"Hey mom T," Mike said also noticing his ex-mother-in-law's quietness. Patricia greeted them both as they each took turns giving her a hug. Mike had always been close to Patricia just as Michonne had always been close to Jacqui.
"I'm glad you guys finally made it—I was wondering where you were," she snapped. Instantly the air in the room became thick with unspoken division.
"I'm sorry it took us so long to get here mom—how are you?" she asked with a smile—in hopes of relaxing the older woman's apprehensive stance.
"I'm fine I was just waiting for you—how did the meeting go?" She asked while still not looking at her daughter of ex son-in-law.
Michonne began explaining the events of the meeting to her mother. Patricia listened as she gazed over to the kitchen. Michonne finished her quick diatribe stating that she and her co-workers would be working with the A.P.D., the District Attorney's Office and the King County Sheriff's Department.
"Oh," was all Patricia Anthony said, still not looking in the eyes of her daughter.
After speaking with Jacqui the previous night, Patricia had gained a new bravery, and this was the time that she needed to stand in this new truth.
"I had a conversation with Jacqui last night," Patricia began, pausing just long enough for Michonne to interrupt…
"You spoke to Mom Jacqui last night—I'm surprised I didn't-" before Michonne could finish her quandary, Patricia faced her daughter and snapped…
"Is there some rule that I can't speak to Jacqui?—and who are you to say who I can speak with and who I can't—I'm the mother, I'm not a child so don't tell me who I can and can't speak to." Patricia said loudly.
The current swirl of emotions she was having while standing in her foyer had sent her into a mini tailspin. She most assuredly considered her behavior to be undignified—but couldn't stop herself.
It happened instantly; the air was extracted from the room as Mike and Michonne both took a step back unable to focus on what just happened. Patricia Ridoux's unexpected outburst caused Andre to stop cutting himself a large piece of his grand mom's famous chocolate cake—he rushed towards the noise.
"Mom, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to upset you—I just didn't know that you two were friends." Michonne said calmly to the imposing woman in front of her—one that she barely recognized at the moment.
"Well you don't know everyone I'm friends with…so don't presume to." She again sniped.
Andre had made his way over to his grandmother and put his hand on her arm.
"I'm really sorry mom…I didn't mean anything by it. I shouldn't have assumed-"
Patricia interrupted, "You're damn right you shouldn't assume…you're a big-time lawyer, isn't that one of the first things they teach you in law school—not to make assumptions; to do your research and get facts before you assume anything." She stopped while harshly looking at her daughter. The silence permeated the room for what seemed to be an infinite amount of time. The harshness fell from Patricia's face and was replaced with regret.
Both Mike and Michonne were in recovery mode; neither really knew what to say. Before they could gather themselves, Patricia turned to her ex son-in-law, "Mike—Michonne and I are going into the sitting room, can you take Andre and go to the family room—there's cake in the kitchen, help yourself…"
She finished as she turned to her grandson and kissed his cheek. She walked over to Mike and brushed his cheek tenderly, then turned and walked towards her favorite room in the house. Michonne followed behind.
It was sweltering outside, but inside of the Anthony home it was nice and cool; the air conditioner was doing its job, but the walk from the front door to the sitting room felt like a heated death row march to Michonne. She was walking the Green Mile, but unlike the many prisoners who have taken that walk, she didn't know what her crime was; her mom had apparently tried, convicted, and set the sentence before discussing her offense.
As they entered the room, Patricia's favorite room, Michonne took in how lovely the room really was. The rest of the house was always immaculate and beautiful, but the sitting room was special. It wasn't just that the furniture was antique cherry wood with cream colored fabric covering—it was its' warmth. The beautiful azalea and the few pictures that she had on the wall of family made the room feel like a home all on its own.
Michonne took her few death steps and sat across from the chair that was her mother's favorite. Her mom sat and stared at her daughter. The silence did not last long but it felt like an eternity.
Being a lawyer for as many years as Michonne, reading body language had become second nature. She read the body language of the guilty, the innocent, the witnesses, the judges, and the attorneys; she prided herself on her ability to read people. But, she was never able read her mother, until this very day. Her mother was racked with guilt. It was written all over her; it wasn't fear, it wasn't anger, it wasn't sadness—it was guilt.
Patricia looked away from her daughter as she stared at the wall behind her; pictures of her family, mostly Andre. Though there were pictures of her husband; it had been years since she'd taken the time to really look at them. The 8x10 picture of him holding Michonne was always her favorite.
Johnny Anthony was such a handsome man; he was tall with a slender build, short tapered hair and dark flawless skin. He always had a moustache –according to him, all real men had to have some hair on their face. He was a stunning man. She looked over at the wall; her growing plant and the picture her grandbaby-then back down at her hands.
She stared down at her hands. She twisted her wedding band—the wedding band that had been a resident of her ring finger for 40 years.
"I'm so sorry mom," Michonne interrupted the silence, "I didn't mean to upset you, I-"
"No, I'm sorry," Patricia interrupted, "I never should've snapped at you. You didn't do anything wrong honey," she said as she stood and walked over to her window—her little window to the world.
"It's okay—I mean there's a lot going on, you have every right…"
"—No," her mother interrupted again without turning from her view of the neighborhood,
"I don't have every right to anything." She stated emphatically.
This was it, this was the right time to let go of the lies and hidden truths.
"About twelve years ago, after Andre's first birthday party, Jacqui and I were cleaning up—you and Mike had taken the baby to the park," she continued, "Jacqui and I grabbed a couple of glasses of wine. I always thought she was a nice woman, but I think she and I felt a certain kind of jealousy—over Andre,"
She paused and laughed a little to herself, "it sounds weird, but sharing a grandbaby can be a tricky thing—anyway, we began to talk. She began to share some of the issues that she and Lawrence were having and it all began to feel so—familiar. We both had our own best friends, but in that moment it seemed easier to talk to each other than our closest friends. I mostly listened to her—I knew that I could never give her or anyone advice on marriage." She paused as she thought about what she needed to tell her daughter. Still staring out the window, she continued...
"For the first time in nearly two decades, I let my guard down –she took a deep breath—I shared some things with her that I'd never told anyone. As I talked, she looked at me with such kindness. There was no judgment—though I wouldn't've blamed her if she did judge me harshly -she turned and faced her daughter- but after my confession to her, I was never truly comfortable around her. A part of me always felt that she was judging me. I was embarrassed—which is why we've never become friends." She searched her daughters face for her thoughts; there was only confusion on her lovely face.
"Mom—what did you confess?"
"It was about your father." Her daughters' expression changed from confusion to something akin to disbelief.
"What did you confess mom?" Michonne asked, though not prepared for the answer.
"I told her about a man—a man that I was interested in right before Johnny disappeared." She said.
Patricia was facing the window, looking out at the street; she couldn't bear to look at her daughters' eyes as she confessed her deepest and darkest secret. She definitely could not look into the eyes of the lawyer.
She stared at the street in front of her house, looking at the cars of her neighbors—neighbors that she'd known for years. Neighbors that were just coming home from work completely unaware that in the house which sat in the middle of the block, with the beautiful green lawn and brown shudders, had a woman living there who had been untruthful and nearly unfaithful to her husband.
"I was so young when I married your father. I loved him with all my heart, but as time went on I just became a regimented wife...who later became a discontented mother—I didn't know what to do. For one very brief moment I forgot who I was," she paused for a moment as she watched her neighbor Mrs. Meyer walk by with her dog.
"He was nice and he paid attention to me. Your father was working on that stupid case every day and every night and you had your friends and your sleepovers and I was just really lonely." She said in one long breath.
"I didn't have an affair with him—I need you to know that. But—it was inappropriate, and we did kiss. I felt so guilty. Later I confessed to your father. He just stared at me… and it's a look that I'll never forget… it wasn't anger…it was hurt, and he never said anything..." she continued as she twisted her long adorned wedding ring.
"But the night that he disappeared—was a good night. He hadn't really talked to me after my confession, but that night—that night was good. He came home and kissed me. He said that everything would be okay; that he would be spending more time with me and with you, and that he had figured something out. He was in such a good mood."
There it was. The conflicting information that her mother had given all those years ago; she told the detectives that initially interviewed her about her missing husband that he was happy and unbothered at the time of his disappearance. Later, she told the detectives that her husband was bothered about something, but she wasn't sure what it was, and he seemed distracted. Then, when she did her first televised interview, she told the reporter that her husband was working hard on the Stookey case and she was sure that his disappearance had something to do with the case.
Michonne knew that it was her mom's statements in her first televised interview that set the city on edge. It was after the interview that all the conspiracy theories started.
"Please forgive me for all the lies—I didn't want anyone to know about what I did." She implored her daughter as she saw a glimmer of antipathy flash across her little girls face.
"Please forgive me for never telling the complete truth about what was going on with me and Johnny. It was just… such a bad time for me. Johnny was gone—all I really had was you…and I couldn't bear for you to know what I did." Patricia said in a hushed tone.
"Please," she implored, finally turned and facing her daughter. Michonne didn't speak. Patricia could see the wheels turning in her daughter's brain. Her eyes were focused on some distant place far beyond the walls of the room.
Patricia continued… "I never wanted to talk to you about boys or men or anything like that because I always felt too guilty about what I did. It felt right that your aunt talked to you about relationships and things along that line. I knew I hadn't earned it—I decided to be the best mom and grand mom that I could be—it's the least that I could do for Johnny." For the second time in two days tears rolled down her face. Michonne was looking away from her; with newly formed visible frown lines…
" I've never forgiven myself—for a long time I thought that Johnny left because of what I did—but I knew that he'd never leave you -she smiled at her daughter- your dad loved you more than anything. I eventually figured that something—sinister had happened to him. Everyone kept saying that it had something to do with the case and that it was probably racially motivated, so I allowed myself to believe that."
Michonne could barely breathe. She thought she might hyperventilate. She took a deep breath in an attempt to not just calm herself but to relax enough to have this conversation.
"Who was it Mom?" Michonne quietly asked.
"No one truly understands a human heart," Patricia continued, ignoring her daughter's question, "it can be as strong as any African diamond while also as weak as watered down tea. I don't even know if we understand our own heart or our capacity to love and forgive. I know that I truly loved your father, and I believe that he truly loved Me." she said.
"Who was it mom?" Michonne repeated.
"It doesn't matter," she said, no longer looking in her daughters face, "it doesn't matter who it was—nothing else happened and I'd rather not think about it."
Michonne stood and walked over to her mother. She touched her shoulder as calmly as she could, to not startle her. She lightly touched her with her other hand in an attempt to turn her mother's body towards her.
"Mom, I need you to listen to me now, this information is incredibly important. Maybe this man, whoever he is, didn't have anything to do with dad's death— but we have to know who he is. You have to tell me." She said.
"He would never have hurt your father. I don't know if your father confronted him, but he was not the kind of person who would hurt anyone…he was actually very meek and quiet.
"Who was it Mom?" Michonne's determination not wavering.
Patricia looked at her daughter and simply said, "Milton Woods."
Milton Woods was one of Johnny Anthony's co-workers. He was also the co-counsel for on the Stookey case. He and Johnny had worked together for five years before his disappearance. The two men were never close friends, but they were friends -at least Johnny Anthony thought they were- Milton Woods was on the list that Michonne's team had given to their new 'partners' because of inconsistencies he'd given regarding his whereabouts when Johnny Anthony went missing.
"Mom, we need to talk about where you were the night dad went missing. There were inconsistencies in what you told the detective and what you later told that reporter—it was subtle, but it was—inconsistent."
"Do you think I had something to do with your father's death—how could you ever think that?"
"I don't—I just need to know the truth," she replied to her mother with honest empathy.
She continued, "…we'll sit down and you can give me your statement…okay."
Patricia smiled as she saw the warmth now radiating from her child.
"Your father was such a good man. He was truly a good guy. It would've been so much easier if he'd been a cheater or some kind of a jerk—but, he wasn't. He was very idealistic, very honorable, and very loyal." She smiled at the thought of her husband. "You're so much like him." She said.
The heavy layer of anxiety that had been ever-present in the sitting room had dissipated. Patricia had finally—finally after thirty years in her self-imposed prison, been released. It was mind-blowing. She knew that there would be things that she'd have to deal with and that she would now give a more truthful statement…but it didn't matter; the truth had already set her free.
"I just feel so bad-" Michonne said.
Patricia interrupted, "I know baby and I'm so sorry."
"No mom, I feel bad for you—I feel bad that you—you spent all those years wrapped up in guilt. You were never able to really enjoy your life. I feel so bad that you never had a chance to spend time with anyone else. That you never let another man into your life; you don't need me to forgive you…you just need to forgive yourself."
She took her mom's hand and kissed it. She saw the uncertainty on the face of the person who was the first true love of her life. "I'll have Maggie draw up the papers to have daddy officially declared dead—and Mike, Auntie Liv and I, will sit with you and plan his memorial service." She said with a small smile.
"Mom—do you remember what you would tell me when I was frustrated?" She gingerly rubbed her mothers shoulder. "Today is the tomorrow you talked about yesterday." She stopped to give her mother the opportunity to take in her own words. "This is your today."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The drive to King County from Atlanta was never more than a couple of hours. Rick routinely drove Carl to his mothers on Friday nights so that Lori could have her son for a full two days. But, Carl had plans with his friends Friday night, so here they are; driving to their old home town early Saturday morning.
Rick usually enjoyed the drive to his ex-wife's because it was a time that he could just sit and talk with his son. Between work, school, and Carl's preoccupation with gadgets and social media, they really only had this drive to talk.
Today was different. Today was somber. Today was that day. It was summer time and Carl spent the summers with his mother; a growing point of contention between father and son for the past few weeks.
Carl loved his mom. She was his mom after all, but his life -which primarily consisted of his friends- was now in Atlanta. It's not fair that I have to spend the whole summer away from my friends and my life. Hurting his mom's feelings was never something he wanted to do, but he didn't know how to be truthful without it sounding mean to her.
Rick and Lori had worked out somewhat of a compromise with the unhappy teen; he could spend a few weekends during the summer at home in Atlanta, and he could also go on the camping trip with his father. The agreement didn't completely assuage Carl's misery, but he was giving his father the silent treatment a little less lately.
"You're gonna be really bored without me," Carl said to his father as he perused the passing Georgia scenery. The beauty of the Georgia landscape before him was one that even a teenage cynic could appreciate; a view that both amateur and seasoned photographers would happily capture – a landscape that artists would drool for.
"You are right about that," Rick said, glancing over at his son. It had not gone unnoticed to him that his son seemed a lot more introspective lately. The two had always enjoyed a very close relationship and Rick was hoping that the teenage years would not change that dynamic.
"But hopefully I'll be able to get more sleep—since there won't be any video games or music blaring through the apartment," he jokingly told the younger Grimes.
"Funny dad," Carl said, rolling his eyes while his father chuckled. He reached down and grabbed his small backpack that was sitting on the floor by his foot and took out his cell phone. Rick took note of his son's movements and knew that any window of time he'd have to speak with him was quickly closing – once the young man was on his phone, the rest of the world was nothing but a faint memory wrapped up in annoyance.
"So," the senior Grimes began before his son could begin his wireless activity, "what's going on with that young lady I saw you talking to the other day?" He asked while taking a quick peek at his son's face to assess his unrehearsed and uncensored immediate reaction to the question. Carl grinned –there and gone in the blink of an eye- and shifted in his seat.
"Nothing is going on—what do you mean?" the teen asked with rising angst.
"You were looking at her like she's a piece of pepperoni pizza-I figured she's more than just a friend," Rick said feigning disinterest.
"She's just a friend—that's all," he said staring at his dad.
"It's okay if you like her- I mean as more than just a friend," Rick said in hopes of starting the conversation that he wanted to have.
"Dad…she's just a friend," his tone and body language shifting to that of exasperation.
"Okay…Okay…," Rick jumped in before his son's head could explode. "Just wanted you to know that it's fine if you like her."
Throughout his marriage there was always one recurring issue that his wife complained about—it was always a lack of communication. Rick was never one to express his feelings or vent like some men do. His reserved nature and lack of emotion -as she saw it- was always a point of contention.
She began to see him as more of a visitor in their relationship and less of a permanent resident. After their brief stint in marriage counseling he made the private and personal decision to be more open with his thoughts – especially where his loved ones were concerned; silence would not ruin his relationship with his son like it did with his wife.
"There's something that I wanted to talk to you about," Rick started as his son unlocked his phone.
"What?" Carl asked.
Rick ran his hand over his chin while considering the best way to start…
"I wanted to talk to you about your mom—she and I had a talk the other day," he started as he took a peripheral view of the teen, "and she asked me to have a talk with you about a few things." Carl looked up from his phone, now giving his full attention to his father.
"You know she's been dating Brian for a while, –more of a statement than a question- your mom likes him a lot." He glanced back to his son before continuing…"Well, he's asked your mom to marry him."
He stopped to give the teen an opportunity to take in what he'd just heard.
"She was kinda—nervous to talk to you about it; she asked me to see what you'd think about her marryin' him."
Rick and Lori were not on the friendliest of terms, for a very long time, but she respected the relationship that he had with their son. She felt a true since of distance when it came to Carl; which she hoped would change as time passed. So, Rick wasn't surprised when she reached out to him for assistance with breaking this important news. Though Carl didn't seem to have anything in particular against Brian, he made it pretty clear by his dismissive attitude towards the man that he didn't consider him…well, he just didn't consider him anything.
With the exception of the country music coming quietly through the speakers, the car was silent. As Keith Urban sang about Somebody Like You Rick reflected on the many mistakes he'd made in his personal life and hoped that this was not another one.
"What are you thinking?" he broke the tense silence and asked his son.
"I don't know—I guess its fine," Carl told his dad as he fiddled with his phone.
"We've never really talked about Brian too much, but now he'll be your step-dad, and when you visit with your mom he'll be living there as well." He said.
There was silence again; both car occupants gathering their thoughts.
"Is there anything that you want to talk about—I mean; are you really okay with this? I know it's a lot to get adjusted to...when your mom and I separated, then got divorced, we spent a lot of time talking and thinking about you. People act like divorce messes kids up, but we both thought that you living with two unhappy people would be much worse."
He looked over at his son who was now staring out the window.
"Well," Rick continued, "seems like Brian makes her happy."
He still could not ascertain what the now distant teen was thinking. Is he angry, sad, relieved…what?
"Dad—really, I'm fine with it." Carl broke the silence. "Brian is okay and you're right, mom likes him—plus, I spend most of my time with you anyway…so, it doesn't really matter."
"Carl, it does matter," Rick said sharply, "He'll be part of your family; for your moms' sake, you need to give the guy a real chance." He finished emphatically.
"I didn't mean it like that—I'll give'em a chance." He told his dad
"Good son," Rick said as he smiled over at his son, "I'm proud of you—so is your mom. Sometimes she doesn't exactly know how to talk to you, but you know she loves you right—and your feelings really do matter to her."
The young man didn't respond as he appeared to be in deep thought once more. As alike as the father and son were, the one big difference between them was that while Rick was more reflective and silent; Carl was more reflective and vociferous. Carl generally shared every thought he had. This sudden silence was… different.
"I know she loves me. We just don't—get each other too much." He said with a small upturned smile and a shrug. "What about you dad," He looked over at his father, "Do you think you deserve to be happy too?" It was an unexpected question that took Rick by surprise.
"I don't know what I deserve son—but, I'd like to be happy too." He shared honestly.
"Then you have to date dad—you need a girlfriend." The contemplative look quickly replaced with a grin.
"Wow," he looked at his son and laughed. It only took a moment before the car was filled with the laughter of father and son. As they laughed, he knew that this was the right time to divulge some things that he'd kept from his son.
"Speaking of that son—actually I have started dating." He began as the laughter trailed off. "I started kinda seein' someone a few months ago-"
"Really, Dad—why didn't you tell me?" Carl interrupted excitedly. "Who is it?" his excitement escalating.
"Her name is Jessica and I met her through work—she's a court reporter." Rick said reluctantly.
He really had no intention of introducing his 'friend' to his son any time soon. And now, there was yesterday. There was yesterday and there was her. Confusion was taking hold.
His taste in women had been pretty consistent throughout his life. Lori had long dark hair, but his preference tended to be blonde or light red hair. He liked thin women; never considered himself much of an 'ass man,' but he did like nice sized breast. There may have been subtle variations throughout the years, but his taste was pretty clear. What was yesterday then? Her… His interaction with Michonne Ridoux the previous day had been…bewildering, to say the least.
She wasn't his type –So what exactly was going on yesterday with her. Their interaction was magnetic. There was an instant connection—but she wasn't his type—he'd have absolutely no idea how to approach her. Would she even be interested in him? She was beautiful and strong; but also vulnerable and funny. The loyalty that her colleagues—friends—had for her spoke volumes to the kind of person she must be. He was pretty sure he'd never felt that way before... but she was the mother of a child newly enrolled into his program; and then there's the whole-newly found dead father thing. Even thinking about her was inappropriate. Plus…she wasn't his type…
"When can I meet her?" Spouted the excited teen; no surprise that the request would be immediately be made.
Rick's newfound thoughts of this new woman, made this even more…weird.
"Like I said, it's not serious, and—I'm not actually sure if it will ever be serious. The only reason I told you is because I don't want you to think that I'm lonely—because I'm not," he lied. Truthfully, he'd been lonely for years, especially when he was married.
"But I promise that if it ever gets serious, I'll introduce you to her." He said
Carl heard what his dad said, but it didn't stop him from spending the remainder of the ride to King County asking his father a barrage of questions. By the time the pair had reached the home of Lori Grimes, Rick had promised to introduce his son to his 'girl' friend.
Rick had a brief interaction with his ex-wife, which generally happened on the drop offs and pickups. After a casually superficial conversation with Lori and her soon-to-be husband, he said his good-bye's and walked to his car. His mind was elsewhere when he looked over and saw Carl running over to his car, "Hey dad," he said as Rick lowered his window, "I just wanted to tell you that you really do deserve to be happy—and if Jessica isn't the one who really makes you happy, then you should look for someone else."
ooooo
His son's words played over and over in his head, much like a scratched album on an eighties record player—Look for someone else…you deserve to be happy.
Rick had spent his entire adult life doing what he was supposed to do. He was always responsible. He followed every rule put before him. He had never ventured into anything beyond the normal that was expected from him. Loneliness was a well known friend and he was okay with it – you deserve to be happy the thirteen year old love of his life told him.
As he breezed down the highway towards his very lonely apartment he grabbed his phone, glanced down at the numbers and pressed the number…
"Hello," she said.
"Hey—it's Rick—Rick Grimes. I was wondering if you were free for coffee—uh—someday this coming week…"
ooooo
Letting go of the albatross that had been around Patricia's neck for thirty years was—incredible. Both mother and daughter seemed to have a renewed amount of strength; a new drive towards an understanding and trust that neither knew was missing.
There are things in life that are certain and unquestionable: the sun rises in the east and sets in the west - rain has the ability to give new birth to barren fields - a tornado has the capacity to leave destruction in its wake - and Patricia Ridoux is incapable of murdering anyone…especially the father of her child.
Armed with what Michonne knew was truth beyond measure, she decided that her mother's confession would be kept private. She would not share that information with anyone on her team; and especially not their new 'partners.' The nights of self-imposed isolation and torment that her mother had suffered all these years were enough. Having people look at her—that way—Michonne would not allow. She had to work diligently hard on this case to get it solved before the police came knocking at her mother's door. It was a puzzle that she needed to figure out…quickly.
She called Darryl, and without giving him much information, asked him to do a background check on Milton Woods. She asked him to look into Woods' behavior and whereabouts before and after her father's disappearance. There might be a time when she would have to divulge her mother's involvement with Mr. Woods, but she'd cross that bridge only if she had to.
ooooo
It was a peaceful Saturday morning. After the last couple of days, she really needed today. With Andre at Mike's house, and Aunt Liv staying with her mom, she could finally relax and gather her thoughts. She and her mom spent the remainder of Friday talking, and maybe for the first time in her entire life; they had a real conversation.
"Michonne—I need you to listen to me—it's time for you to live your life. I've watched you for several years. I never felt I had the right to say anything, but now I can. You closed yourself off, I think even when you and Mike were still together. I know it's because of me. I blame myself. You watched me and became just like me—you never truly opened your heart to him.. Baby—it's time to open yourself up. You're about to immerse yourself into Johnny's case and use it as yet another excuse to close yourself off. I don't want you to be like me….It's time to find your joy."
Her mom's words resonated with her. She couldn't get it out of her mind. It had not been a conscious choice; had she subconsciously shut herself off from real intimacy with a man.
She did have thoughts of him, but was this even the right time to consider having a man in her life—starting something new?
The ringing phone drew her out of her current daydream, "….uh—um—yes, that sounds nice. How about next weekend—um—Saturday..." she said, her nerves working overtime as she sat in her room fiddling with her necklace.
"Okay…we'll confirm a place and time during the week." Rick told Michonne.
A/N - As always, I'm very grateful to everyone who has decided to join me on this journey. Please take a moment to let me know what you think of the chapter.