Authors Note: Well, we've reached the end of this story. I am sincerely grateful and humbled by all who have read, commented, and followed. I feel like this is my baby…so it's bittersweet to post, thus end, this journey. Every kind word that you've said has warmed my heart in a way that you'll never know. It's like getting a compliment on a child that's worked your nerve at home but is incredibly well behaved in public. Even the criticism has served to, I hope, make me a better writer. Thank you all so very much... Please enjoy.
Chapter 9 – For The World To See
What had she missed? What neglect had she unknowingly perpetrated?
The week had been hard. The love of her life had essentially put her on a time-out. He'd refused to sit down and talk. Her attempts to have any type of communication had been muted. His response to her for the first few days was different variations of, "I need time to think." By the fourth day she stopped asking. It ended up being a week of self-discovery and isolation.
Her readymade assembly line excuses were prepared and waiting for everyone from friends to family members and media outlets that called with invites to functions. The pizza delivery man, Chinese food delivery man, and a few grocery store customers were the only people she saw during the week. With her complete withdrawal from all social media, that handful of individuals had been her only actual connection to the world.
Busying herself all morning had allowed her to keep the thoughts at bay—somewhat. Outrunning the disquiet in your head had probably never worked for anyone since the discovery of cognitive recognition – of that she was pretty sure.
A business card fell out of her sweat pants when she tossed them on the clothes hamper. She looked at the fallen card and let out yet another groan. It had been seven days of doubts. The card was a mocking reminder of her ability to actively avoid anything that wasn't palatable. She bent down and picked up the embossed item. Denise Cloyd, PhD, Specializing in non-couple Couples Counseling.
Michonne had toyed with the idea of reaching out to Denise for days. However, calling her meant that there was a problem that the smart and highly intuitive actress was unable to fix on her own. She'd stared at and held the card so much during the week that the remnants of tears, spaghetti sauce and mint chip ice cream stains were now a permanent part of it.
Today was harder than the other days. Leaving town without talking to Rick was breaking her heart. Waking up this final morning in town to that realization caused her, to again, pick up the now frayed and sullied card.
"I probably should've called you," she told the stained inanimate object. The sweet face of the very humble and somewhat awkward therapist flashed into her mind's eye.
"When working through something that seems unsolvable; expressing the problem can often times reveal the solution," she smiled, repeating the words that Denise frequently espoused during their sessions. The sessions— Guess we need actual couples counseling now.
She sighed and placed it on the counter before going back into the bedroom. Glancing in the long mirror brought a sad giggle, Denise would've just made you see what you've already figured out.
A few months earlier…
"You head on over there. I'm gonna get the pot roast into the slow cooker so it'll be ready by the time we get home. We can have it for lunch tomorrow," she said, watching him pull his shirt over his head. He stepped in front of the mirrored closet doors. His hair was still damp. The bathroom mirror obscured her reflection with steam remaining from the shower. He ran his hands through his slowly drying tresses; rigorously shaking his head to rid his hair of the remaining water. He then tucked his tight fitting green t-shirt into his blue jeans before quickly removing it.
She watched him from the sink. The goofy expression he was making at his mirror image made her giggle to herself, mindlessly dipping her hand into the jar of mango Shea butter and rubbing it on her bare shoulders and down her arms.
"You have any idea how good bordering on cute you look fixing yourself in the mirror?" She seductively joked, coming to a stop next to him. They stood side-by-side facing the mirrored doors. Seconds passed as they ogled the other. She was clad in a white lace bra and matching boy shorts.
"If you keep lookin' at me like that, we ain't makin' it to that party," he informed her while gliding his hand down her newly lathered skin. True to his hint at salacious activity, he grabbed her and nuzzled his face into the sweet scent of mango and vanilla.
"Mmm," she coquettishly giggled, "if that beard gets any longer, I'm not gonna be able to feel your lips under the hair." She gave him a quick peck on the lips before backing out of his arms.
"I don't like the sound of that," he said glancing back at his reflection and stroked the mane in question, "I need you to have access to my lips, and I definitely need full access to both sets of yours." That last part with said with his own homegrown southern flirtatious smirk.
"Such a one track mind," she teasingly admonished over her shoulder walking back to the lavatory.
"Yeah, you know you love it," he watched the bounce of her lusciously round rear. The way the shorts slid up and into her cushiony folds as she walked was hypnotizing. Her figure could make a Coke bottle jealous.
"Stop staring at my ass Rick and get going," she ordered with a laugh.
"Stop walking around teasin' me like that," he scoffed.
"I'm serious, Rick."
"So am I. Stop advertisin'."
The couple had spent most of the day in bed. As was their usual behavior, after the week of filming was over, they spent the weekends alone-together in either her condo or his house.
Exceptions to their self imposed confinement was when RJ was in town, when Michonne was traveling, or when there was a party of some kind to attend.
Tonight was a birthday party that Maggie was throwing for her boyfriend Donald. She pulled out all the stops for the casual-dress event; even rented out one of the larger rooms in the Atlanta Arboretum.
"I'm getting dressed. Only your dirty mind sees it as advertising," she told him, picking up her blouse from the bed and sliding her arms into the sleeves.
"There's really no reason for us to take different cars," he quickly said.
His sudden change of subject gave her pause.
He watched as her movements slowed. Lately, this was becoming a broken record in their relationship.
"Michonne," he challenged.
"Rick," she returned the challenge.
"Everyone knows. They don't say it—but we both know that they all know," his arms remained crossed with his gaze fixed on her.
She inhaled deeply, not wanting to have the same discussion. The same discussion that at times turned into an oh-so-subtle disagreement. Never quite making it to an argument, but definitely teetering on the brink of one.
He stood watching her. Standing his ground in more than just a literal sense.
"Even if they do..." she buttoned the blouse and went to the closet.
"Baby," he softened the tone that was getting mildly demanding, "I'm not saying that we make out at the party, just ride together. Friends can ride together, right?"
Of course he was right. She knew he was right. It had been a year of being in their private bubble. Letting their friends, coworkers, and eventually the public into that bubble was not something she wanted, or was ready for, I just like keeping you to myself. She glanced his way.
He was not letting it go...
"Okay, you're right," she acquiesced, "just let me finish getting ready. Can you toss the vegetables and the roast into the crock pot for me?" She asked.
The huge smile that spread across his face sent warmth through her body; an amazing feeling of love that made her heart skip. She was continually amazed at how a love that she thought had reached its peak and couldn't possibly reach higher or grow larger, continued to do just that. How is it even possible to love somebody so much? She radiated at the thought.
"Pretty sure I can manage that," he gave her a peck on the cheek and practically skipped out of the room.
She couldn't help but giggle at him. It really didn't take much to please him. Meat and potatoes. Mobster movies and old westerns. Talking and cuddling. Sex and more sex. That was Rick Grimes in a nutshell.
He was the boyfriend trifecta, Kind-Considerate-Honest, Also incredible in bed. Pretty sure that makes him a, uh, quad-fecta, which I'm pretty sure isn't an actual word, I'll be damned if it's not the truth though. She laughed.
The past year had been seamless. It had been the best year of her life. This new need of his to be more public with something new. It was throwing a wrench into the spokes of a perfectly running relationship; in her humble opinion.
She shouted, "Don't forget to wash the roast before you put it in the pot. The vegetables are already cut up in..."
"The Tupperware with the red top," he shouted back, already knowing what she'd say, "I'm an old country boy, Michonne. You know my mama taught me how to cook. I think I can manage a pot roast in a crock pot." She could hear him chuckle although he had already made it to the kitchen.
"Thank you, honey."
I spent that whole night keeping my distance from him. I saw the look on his face when Heath kept coming on to me. He was bothered. I knew he was bothered. Shit. He never said anything to Heath—or to me. Why would he? I mean, I've never given him a reason to be jealous. He knows I'd never cheat. Dammit. I've handled everything wrong. She grimaced while her thoughts ran rampant.
His body language was shouting his discontent. He needed me to hear him. Even if he didn't say it out loud. "Why didn't you just tell me, Rick?"
She continued to simmer in her own guilt while recalling the party. The van shoot. The times on set. All the times where she kept her distance. All the times she worried about what others would think. He never really complained, but it was right there. Right in front of her.
There was so much that he was trying to tell her, Why didn't I pick up on it? Why didn't you tell me how much it bothered you, "I'm not a damn mind reader," she mumbled to herself again.
The honk of the cabs horn in the distance alerted her that her transportation to the airport had arrived. She glanced around the expanse of her front room to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything. The place seemed so empty. It barely felt like home without Rick's coffee mug sitting on the counter or his slippers near the door.
"It was in front of my face and I just ignored it," she sighed at the realization.
The follow up honk brought her back to the present. She rolled the oversized suitcase into the hallway and locked the door.
"Time to get the show on the road," she said, walking slowly to the elevator.
x – x – x – x
It had been two weeks since he'd seen Michonne. His responses to her text messages were short and curt. It was not his intention to stay away from her - initially - but he really needed to get his mind straight. He avoided all her attempts to get together during the week she was at home. The excuses ranged from needing to do work around the house to visits with his parents. He waited until she left town to pick up her car and take it to the mechanic for the maintenance it required. He also watered the plants that she chronically forgot to tend. His indoor gardening skills weren't the greatest, but they were a few steps above hers.
Why am I so angry? Was a question he asked himself over and over again. Through hours of self-reflection he realized it was something that had been building for quite some time. He knew without question, She hasn't changed who she is. She's exactly the same. That realization could only lead to one conclusion…he was the one who had changed.
The days went by slowly; each day beginning and ending much like the one before. He did everything he could to push thoughts of her out of his head, You're a fool Rick—you need to just call her, but he didn't. No matter how many sleepless nights he had or how much he longed for her, he didn't.
Being angry at her wasn't that hard, I have every right to be mad, however, understanding the true reason behind the anger was something entirely different. Why now? Was a question he couldn't answer.
I should've taken you to the airport. A damn cab. What kinda man doesn't drop his woman off at the airport? Granddaddy's probably rollin' over in his grave. So much for bein' a southern gentleman.
"I need to talk to your mom," he told the ferns, peace lily's and single anthurium as he watered them.
He opened the blinds to give the thriving vegetation light. "She drives me so damn crazy—life would be simpler if I could just get her outta my system," he laughed, lifting the anthurium and moving it closer to the light. The plants four bright red florets had recently bloomed. He smiled at the thought of his love. The vibrant, beautiful and strong showy flowers reminded him of her.
"She's in my blood—I breathe her…" he stared out of the window. It was early but the city was already alive with activity. "Maybe I'm just tryin' to punish her for not…" he stopped. For what? He couldn't vocalize his reasons to himself, much less to the foliage.
I knew she was super private when I first met her. How can I be mad at her for just being who she is?
"Y'all probably think I'm crazy. I probably am." He picked up the blanket she'd left on the couch before leaving town and raised it to his face. Her scent was still there. His body livened and his smile increased. Her scent conjured thoughts of her face, arms, legs and touch. She'd left the blanket strewn across the couch.
She'd been sleeping in the living room. He could tell. It was more than just the disheveled blankets resting on the sofa. He made up beds with meticulous precision, having had a military man as a father. Michonne was much more lax in her bed making skills.
Her bed was still thoroughly made; sheets crisp and corners tucked the way it was when he made it before heading out to the Fimbres dinner party that night. The night I stormed out like a jerk leaving her at the door crying. Asking for some type of discussion or some kinda explanation.
He folded the blanket and draped it over the back of the couch. "How is it possible to be so in love with someone?" He asked the house plants and furniture.
He pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and typed out a quick text…
The plants are fed. Hope you're enjoying your day.
He reviewed his words. They were distant. They were cold. They were the exact opposite of what was in his mind and in his heart.
He just wasn't ready to let her off the hook. The hook of what was the question. Ignoring his heart, he tapped the arrow sending the text. Less than a minute later is phone chimed. He looked down at the message.
Thank you baby. I hope your day is going good too. I miss you so much Rick.
A heart emoji followed her words. He ran his thumb over the words before slipping the phone back into his pocket. If he responded he'd be bridging the distance that had so painstakingly been built over the past two weeks.
Stop being so damn ridiculous Rick. You need to just call her. He roamed around her empty apartment for the next hour before deciding that he wasn't ready to let her off the metaphorical hook yet. He needed to figure out what he wanted from this relationship and so did she. What were they building towards? If anything.
This was the second week. The third week would be even more grueling.
x – x – x - x
Due to her shooting schedule, she hadn't been able to do the entire juggernaut of promotion dates with her movie co-stars. Filming for the television show had wrapped for the season which permitted her to finally join the rest of the cast. The press junket had been a planned whirlwind.
Michonne's fan base had grown exponentially since the first trailer hit the theaters and took over social media. She was quietly disappointed that her schedule was so jam packed. It made her ability to fix things with Rick just that much more difficult. She and Rick needed to talk.
Three weeks of the silent treatment; his choice, not hers. There had been text messages but they were short and the phone conversations rushed…..
If she had taken more time to think it through, to really consider her actions, there's no way she'd be doing this. 'Overthinking everything' is what Sasha always called it. So, no overthinking - she just picked up the phone and did it.
"Hi, there," her greeting was light and cheerful.
"Hey, how are you?" Mike asked.
"I'm good. Busy, but good. How are you?"
"Everything's going well. I just partnered with a couple of other agents. Looks like it's gonna be a beneficial partnership for all of us. We're gonna be a force to be reckoned with in the industry."
"I'm glad to hear that, Mike. I know you've worked really hard."
"Thanks. I appreciate that."
There was a momentary silence on the line.
"So what's up?" Mike asked. They hadn't spoken in months, and that was in passing. They saw each other at a friend's party in New York. Michonne was not a casual type of person. As soon as he saw her name and face appear on his phone, he knew there was a purpose behind the call.
Let's cut to the chase, "How are you really doing?" He inquired further.
"Um," she knew why she called; kind of. How do I put this into words? This is stupid. I shouldn't've called him. Her silence was just long enough for him to interject.
"How's the show? It's still a ratings powerhouse I see," he said.
"Yeah." she was still formulating her thoughts; her reasons for calling him.
"What's going on? Are you okay?"
She sighed. This is stupid. Who calls their old boyfriend regarding their new boyfriend?
Almost as if he could read her thoughts, "Does this have to do with your costar?"
"Huh?" His insight came as a surprise. His correct assumption was a jolt, pulling her out of her thoughts.
"There've been rumors on social media for months. I think there was even an out of focus picture of you two floating around the internet."
"Oh."
"You know I don't pay much attention to that kind of stuff—and I know you don't." He paused, giving her a moment to respond. She didn't.
"Talk to me, what's goin' on?"
"Yeah— uh yes, Rick and I have been together for over a year now."
"I'm hap…"
"Mike," she blurted, "Did I push you away when we were together. Did I neglect you when we were together?" She managed to ask the question that she pretty much already knew the answer to
"Uh," he laughed, "You are full of surprises," his laughter amplified.
The line was again silent. Mike let out an uneasy chuckle. Michonne breathed deep regretting having called, and also regretting asking the question.
"I wouldn't say that you were distant, Michonne. You had a lot goin' on and so did I. When we were together I felt like you gave me as much as you could. Honestly…" he laughed, "there was a certain amount of passion that I kinda felt you held back. And believe me—that's not a knock on you. Maybe it's a knock on us as a couple."
"Uh—okay," she said.
"Did he say that you were distant or neglectful or something?"
"Not in so many word—but…" she stopped.
"The fact that you're reaching out to me—which I know couldn't've been easy for you—must mean that this guy means a lot to you," it was more of a question then it was a statement. He hesitated to give her an opportunity to respond.
"Yeah. He actually means a lot to me. And—I think maybe I pushed him away. I'm just trying—to figure it out." As stupid as she felt calling Mike, the feeling of stupidity was now compounded by the crying that wouldn't hold off. She wiped her eyes and tried to hide her soft sniffles.
"Michonne…" he said.
When he received her call he was going through paperwork at his desk; immersed in putting together the final touches of his big deal. He wasn't quite prepared for an emotional conversation, but it was clear that that's what this was going to be. He got up and closed his office door.
"…Look, its okay. You know I'm the last one who should ever give relationship advice, but since you thought enough of me to call, I'm gonna say this", he sat back down and stared at the pen in his hand, "You're a phenomenal woman, and I imagine that your guy knows that. You need to stop worrying about everybody else and what everybody else thinks. He's a lucky guy…"
She pressed mute on her phone so he couldn't hear her crying while she listened.
"Michonne—did you hear me?"
She tapped the mute button, "Yeah," she mumbled.
"I feel honored that you thought enough of me to call, but I think you should probably talk to him."
"I would—but he won't talk to me," she whimpered.
The words came out incredibly muffled but he was able to make out her words, "Well even if he doesn't want to talk to you now—I'll bet that he probably feels just as bad, if not worse, than you do..."
"…When you talk to him Michonne," he paused, "Listen to me…"
"Uh—huh," she mumbled.
"…Step outside of yourself and just let yourself be…"
There was a time when he was going to ask her if she had a 'thing' for Rick Grimes. Her strong dislike for him was so uncharacteristic. He thought that there may be something that she wasn't telling him. After a while he realized that even if she had some feelings for him – she was clearly not conscious of it. So he let that sleeping dog lie. This was surely not the time to bring it up.
"…I won't tell you to not cry—I've been around enough females to know that saying that only infuriates you," he laughed, "so I'll just say—cry as much as you want, and then when you stop, try and talk to him."
"Thanks Mike," she said quietly, "I'll talk with you later."
This was the first day since leaving Atlanta that she'd allowed herself to lament her losses. Calling Mike had been a last ditched effort to put all the puzzle pieces together. He was, after all, the only one she'd been seriously involved with since college. Her first real committed adult relationship...other than Rick.
She was still processing the call and pulling herself together when the knock and a loud jovial conversation wafted into the room. Brad, Gary, Danny and Letty had become good friends. They had dinner together most evenings while they were on the road. Tomorrow was the big premier of the movie studios newest planned-blockbuster. It had been nonstop travel. At one point she forgot what city they were in.
Her eyes were still red and a little puffy. She dried her face and put on her best-cheery façade; years of acting did have its benefits. She shook off the stress, took a deep breath, and then went to the door.
Their complexions varied from the milkiest of chocolate to the richest of dark chocolate. A true chocolate rainbow. "Hey guys—you all look beautiful as always. I'm ready to go." She popped on her sunglasses, and plastered on a smile as they all traipsed to the elevator laughing and clowning.
x - x - x - x - x
After nearly three weeks it was time to do something. Ricks decision to fly to California and spend time with RJ was a complete 'spur of the moment' decision.
He landed at the John Wayne Airport in Orange County early in the afternoon. After nearly an hour of haggling with clerks at two different car rental places - it was a jammed packed weekend in and around the larger cities in Southern California - he managed to get a mid-sized rental. He tossed his suitcase and garment bag into the car and headed towards the 405 freeway onramp; bound for Huntington Beach.
"Hey Abe," Rick greeted his agent.
"Rick. What's going on?" The gregarious agent asked.
"I'm in California. Just landed a short time ago."
"What the hell are you doin' there? And thanks for letting me know," his annoyance easy traveling through the phone lines.
"I'm letting you know now. It was an uh—impromptu trip…" Rick responded calmly; intent on not letting his overbearing manager get under his skin, "…visit with my son." Seeing RJ was just an excuse. He couldn't stay in Atlanta any longer. His decision to give Michonne the cold shoulder was killing him. Claiming the moral high ground had its perks without question. But in the end, he was left him standing on that ground alone and lonely.
Rick called his ex-wife once he deboarded. He was planning to hangout with his son for a few days. One benefit of keeping a civil relationship with his ex was that she was generally willing to roll with his plans as they changed. She never balked too much if he popped up unannounced - which he rarely did.
Their divorce and subsequent custody agreement never turned acrimonious. Keeping silent when she complained about something was a small price to pay.
He'd stopped being her doormat some time back, but there was a fine line that he walked which kept the peace, "catch more flies with honey than vinegar," his mom reminded him when he complained during the divorce proceedings a few years back.
Abe was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment.
"Is everything okay?" Abe asked, in a soft tone that nearly made Rick check the name on his phone to ensure he was still speaking to his loud and brash agent...
"Never known you to just leave town. You're the most over-plannin' son-a-bitch I've ever known. You schedule unscheduled shit," the ginger manager found the words which had previously escaped him.
"I'm just letting you know so that you don't schedule anything in Atlanta for the next few days," Rick said, merging onto the 405 freeway; attempting to avoid an aggressive big rig.
"Hmm," Abe pondered, "Okay—'preciate you lettin' me know."
"Look—if they're still interested in me doin' that play at the Pasadena Playhouse—I uh—I'd like to do it."
"Are you fuckin' with me? You've been sayin' no for the past two months."
"I know—but yeah, I'll do it if they haven't already cast it," Rick told his unfiltered manager. Both the play's writer and director had asked for him specifically. They held off casting it until the television show was on hiatus. He liked the idea of being so close to RJ; just over an hour with little traffic.
However, the play would be during the summer and the busy teen already had three different camps lined up. They would barely see each other. And then, there was Michonne. It didn't make much sense. There was no logical reason for it. But Atlanta was their home. Once she was off the promotion circuit, he wanted to be at home with her. Their time had been so abbreviated that the idea of rehearsing for a play and all the performances – it just wasn't appealing. But now…
"They just contacted me again yesterday. So yeah—they sure as shit want your country ass."
Rick couldn't help but laugh. No matter how long he'd know Abe, the words that came out of his mouth never stopped surprising him. "Okay," he managed to say while laughing and maneuvering through stop and go traffic.
"They'll probably want you to start rehearsals next week. Can you do it?"
That should give me enough time, "Yeah, that'll be fine," he said.
"Fuckin' A—tell the kid I say hey." He said, ending the call without further discussion.
His flight to the west coast, like much of the days prior, had been wrought with self-reflection. He decided to climb out of his head. Take his mind completely off of her. He grabbed a magazine from the seat and then started a movie. The distraction of both was what was needed.
As he mindlessly opened the nondescript magazine, an article entitled 'What's Wrong with Being Right' stared back at him. He chuckled, realizing that the magazine was Psychology Today.
"What are the damn chances of that?" he mumbled to himself. The older man sitting next to him looked over and offered a polite nod. It was almost as if the universe had conspired against him. Maybe not against him, but a conspiracy none-the-less.
Practicing open-mindedness and reflection is enormously valuable in our close relationships. It can be very difficult for those of us who have long been so attached to being right. It's freeing, but humbling—strong medicine, but just what the doctor ordered.
He reread the passage a few times. Being right had never been that important to him. At some point, however, that seemed to change. There were years of being in the marriage where they both needed to get their point across; eventually not caring to compromise or see the others point of view. To keep whatever peace was possible in a crumbling marriage, he was the one who usually gave in. A lot of self-discovery had happened before coming to the realization that each time he threw in the towel he lost more and more of himself.
But…was he so rigidly fixed in his perspective that he was closed to seeing things any other way, Is being right what really matters? Did I really take the time to hear what she was saying? Wow! Like a lightning bolt, there it was.
It took an airplane ride and an old discarded magazine to figure out what he'd stressed over for the past three weeks. He finally had the answer to the why. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead into his hands.
The why…She'd unknowingly emasculated him. Much like his ex, he'd allowed himself to become a secondary player in his own relationship. God—is that why I've been so damn mad at her? As different as the two women were, it was still déjà vu. I expected her to pick up on something that I only just figured out. I found her guilty of a betrayal that she didn't even know she'd committed.
He looked out of the window; nothing but blue skies and billowy clouds surrounding them. He sighed deeply….
"Dad, they're having a big premiere in Hollywood tonight. I talked to Michonne and she said she's gonna be there."
"You talked to Michonne? When?" He attempted to hide his surprise and play it cool. The one thing he'd learned since being with Michonne was that his game face was not the best. All acting experience seemed to vanish where she was concerned. As luck would have it, his son was completely uninterested in his dad's adult antics.
"Earlier today," RJ relayed, barely paying attention to his father's interest, "Me, her, and Carl. She was at this comic book store in Westwood. She called me and then Carl. There's a new issue of Red Titan that was just released. She's was checking to see if we wanted it."
"Is that right?" Rick asked. His question only held a modicum of surprise. Michonne loved the boys unconditionally.
"Yeah—it was cool. Red Titan's not really one of my favorites. Carl likes him. But," his blue eyes lit up with glee, "she found one of the original copies of Death Ray when she was there. So yeah—suck it Carl."
"RJ," Rick admonished with just those two letter and side eye.
"Sorry dad," the younger Grimes snickered.
"Well, I'm glad she found you such an incredible treasure," his sarcastic tone was not lost on the intuitive teen.
"Don't be a hater dad. It is a big deal," he glared at his clueless father, "Oh, and, she's got a packed schedule for the next few days but she's gonna try to come out and see me before she leaves California. I already asked mom and she said it's fine."
"That's good. I'm sure she'll do her best to see you," Rick said.
"I know you can't really hang out with her because there's so many people around, but I'll let you hang out with us if she makes it out here." He smacked his dad's leg and laughed.
"Thank you, son. You're so kind," he said mockingly. Nearly a year ago RJ stopped asking why he and Michonne never went out in public together. Much like anyone or anything that's been conditioned through time and habit, he fell in line with the program. A program where secrecy was the key to entry.
Spending time with his young name sake always did his heart good. This was the first time since the argument with Michonne that he'd felt relaxed. There was such honesty in his son's words. He had no ulterior motives or hidden agendas. The young man was so innocent and open; completely unaware that his words were bothering his father, Maybe I went too far—ignored her for too long.
RJ was too excited talking about his favorite actress to notice his dad's change of mood.
"Anyway dad," he continued, "They're gonna be streaming all the celebrities walking the red carpet live on YouTube. Even though it's not her movie, I bet they'll interview her," he excitedly relayed.
"Okay. We can do that." Rick said. His mind was all over the place, "We'll stop by the store and pick up some snacks for our viewing pleasure."
x – x – x – x – x
Success is Nothing without someone you love to share it with. She smiled at the thought of her favorite line from one of her favorite movies, Mahogany. How apropos…I swear that line was written for me. Her chaotic mind wailed. She chuckled so softly that only she could hear it.
It was early evening but the sun had not yet set for the day. The area surrounding the massive auditorium located on Hollywood Blvd. was a beehive of activity. Most of the street was cordoned off for the colossal event. The movie studio pulled out all the stops.
The cast of her movie went to the premier as a group.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to all of this," Danny said, looking over the crowd, "it's amazing."
They stood together after doing the many red carpet interviews and brief stops for pictures. Michonne was happy to be standing with people whom she'd come to consider friends over the past year. They all had such a sense of pride where their movie was concerned.
As the lead in their film had so eloquently put it in one his earlier interviews, "This movie is gonna turn the superhero world on its ear." It was a feeling that they all shared while standing in the middle of the eager public.
"I have to agree," Gary said with a huge toothy grin.
"Yeah," Letty concurred, "I'm glad we're here together." She squeezed Brad's hand.
Michonne stood, listening to her friends. There was a mix of emotions surging through her. The feeling of seeing a dream come to fruition was overwhelming. This was tangible proof that all her hard work was paying off – in a big way. But was it? He said he wasn't breaking up with me, but this sure as hell feels like a break up. I have to talk to him. I'll fly back to Georgia tonight. She couldn't keep her mind off of him. Is this really my payoff?
"Michonne," Brad said, tapping her hand, "Did you hear me?" He raised his voice slightly to be heard over the loud chatter around them.
"Huh—I'm sorry," she turned to face him, "I didn't hear you."
"I was asking you if you were coming with us to the Getty event tonight," he asked.
"Uh, no," she stared over his shoulder at nothing in particular, fiddling with the diamond encrusted pendant hanging from the gold chain around her neck, "I'm gonna try and get a flight to Atlanta tonight," she replied in an almost dreamlike state. I'll hire a skywriter to write I Love Rick Grimes over his house—no that's stupid. I'll tweet out some pictures I have of us kissing. No, Facebook, a video telling the world how much I love him. Probably Instagram—No I'll have Sasha put…
"Michonne," the actor repeated as his friend stared into nowhere with an oddly satisfied look on her face.
"Where are you right now?" He tapped her arm; saying her name had not worked to bring her back to reality. She was smiling at something that obviously had nothing to do with them or their current location.
"Huh?" She was immersed in her thoughts. Well, Rick Grimes, you may not be Billy Dee Williams in Mahogany, but I'm gonna go and get you the same way Diana went and got him. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess all centered on him.
"Your mind definitely ain't here, Sis," Gary said, coming closer to Michonne. Her silent distraction had become loud enough for all of them to notice.
Brad's touch brought her back to the present. Both he and Gary were now standing directly in front of her. She refocused.
"I'm sorry," her giggle was soft, "Guess I have a lot on my mind."
She felt buzzing in her purse.
"No problem—it's all kinda crazy. I can't believe you're gonna get on a plane after all this," Brad remarked.
She pulled her phone out of her small clutch bag while only nodding a response. A small grin made its way to her face when she saw Rick's name illuminated. She could see the text message without unlocking the phone…
You look gorgeous baby…
Her small grin morphed into a huge animated smile that lit up her face. Just knowing that he was sitting at home in Atlanta watching her sent a wave of warmth through her body. Maybe he had forgiven her and was ready to talk. She was genuinely happy and felt close to him for the first time in weeks.
She glanced down at her phone and quickly typed out a reply...
Thank you. I'm so happy to hear from you. I miss you.
Her group or friends were surrounding her and continued to talk. She paid them no mind as she watched the dots bounce…
I've missed you too. BTW, those guys are standing a little too close to you...
She read the message and grinned, Wait a minute, the camera's aren't on us anymore. Her thumbs moved quickly over the small keypad on the phone…
Where are you?
She stared at the phone; watching the three dots jump as he typed his response...
I'm here with you. Right where I should be. I don't care if everyone thinks I'm just your co-star, as long as you know that I will always be there for you. I'm your biggest fan baby.
She raised her head and scanned the crowd. The faces mashed together into one big blur; there was almost no distinction. They were all just a sea of people holding up their phones to snap pictures, or paparazzi doing the same thing with actual cameras.
"Michonne, are you listening?" Gary asked his preoccupied friend. They were all discussing plans for the evening.
Her heart beat quicker as butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. Her face felt flushed. She scanned the crowd again, not acknowledging the question.
There he was. She spotted him standing amongst media and an assortment of notable entertainers. His hair was brushed back; the way he wore it on their first official date, The Adonis archetype as I live and breathe. He was wearing a black suit with a dark purple shirt underneath, my favorite color—
Her heart was racing, seemingly unable to find its normal pace. Her stomach was doing somersaults. It happened quickly, but also in slow motion. Her feet picked up speed without her realization; she didn't know she was even moving. She rushed by people shouting her name, it was just white noise. She rushed by the cameras, she didn't see them; "…Michonne…" came the shouts as she passed.
She brushed by those who tried to get her attention. Her embellished high heeled rhinestone studded sandals were all but ripping through the red carpet. Her full head of springy twists bouncing as her pace quickened.
She bumped into people standing around; busy while doing nothing in particular. Her speed increased, causing the wind to blow the wide legs and belt of her royal blue sleeveless jumper backwards. She rushed by those ambling about. All the handlers, assistants, security personnel faded into the background.
Her feet left the mat as she leapt into his arms. He stumbled backwards before regaining his footing. He grabbed her; holding her closely. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He was still trying to steady himself. She grabbed his face, placing her hands on either side of his face with her fingers splayed. She wasted no time capturing his lips with hers. His musky scent sending electricity through her body.
She hastily used her tongue to part his lips, opening their mouths. The kiss deepened, becoming feverish. She bit his bottom lip. He chuckled into her mouth. She was clearly oblivious to, or didn't care about, the hoots and hollers that were going on around them. All the, "Rick's", and the "Michonne's", that were being shouted fell on deaf ears. He chuckled again to lessen the sexual arousal that was happening to him.
Neither his chuckles nor the animatedly curious people around them seemed to slow her tongue from diving deeper into the warmth and sweetness of his mouth.
"Michonne," he whispered as her lips moved from his lips to his cheeks and then back to his lips.
"Baby," he attempted again to pull her out of her uninhibited frenzy. He backed his head away and looked into her face. He smiled. In this new devil-may-care mindset, she'd forgotten that she's a private person. She'd forgotten that some people may frown on their relationship. She'd forgotten to worry about what everyone else thought. She'd forgotten her perceived belief that she was responsible for everyone's expectations of her. She simply wanted him. I told you to let yourself go and I'd catch you. It's damn good to know that you'll catch me too. His smile widened.
Tears had made a trail down her face. Her eyes were red, a lighter shade of red than the lipstick that was smeared around her lips.
"You're here," she sniffled, still struggling to catch her breath.
"Yeah," his voice was deep with emotion. He used the pad of his thumb to wipe the lipstick from around her mouth.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered as her cry picked up steam, "I'm just so sorry."
"You don't have to be," he whispered, just a breath away from her mouth. He smiled, "Love means never having to say you're sorry," he mumbled. It was his attempt to pull her from her current emotional state; quoting a movie line that she always made fun of.
"Rick—I am," she said, not acknowledging the joke that would've normally garnered him one of her famous eye rolls. Her lips were back on his. She ran her hands through is gelled hair, leaving it in a state of disarray. She sucked his bottom lip as the tears dropped softly.
It took him a few more minutes to break her out of the spell she was under. He backed up just enough to see her face clearly; and for her to see his. Her hand slipped into his jacket and rested on his chest.
"We're you and me. Forever. I promise that I'll never walk out on you again. If there's something to fight, then we'll fight it together," he professed, not taking his eyes off of hers.
They stared into the other's eyes; their irises were different colors but the whites of their eyes had an identical shade of light red streaks through them.
She nodded her agreement, unable to articulate her thoughts. She watched his face, his movements. He was trying hard to not allow his emotions to get the better of him. She giggled, coming back to reality, seeing the mess she made of his face.
He had red lipstick smeared on his lips, under his lips, and above his lips. There was also dark brown foundation mixed into his salt and pepper beard.
You are a mess...but still the most beautiful man I've ever seen, she smiled as he attempted to fix the makeup faux pa. He kept his eyes focused on her lips, intent on making her presentable and camera ready.
The bubble that they'd lived in for over a year had now burst. It was a lovely explosion that she was now ready to embrace it.
The couple was now aware of the throng of people that surrounded them; the clamor that covered them. He walked her gingerly away from the overly curious crowd….
"I love you so much, Rick," she whimpered her confession before they came to a complete stop.
He smiled and lifted her hand to his mouth; kissing softly…"I love you too, baby."
"When—when did you get here?" She asked, emotion not quite gone from her voice.
"Earlier today. I kinda ducked out on my kid—left him at his friend's house," he smiled, "Pretty sure he's watchin' us right now though," he paused, allowing his eyes to scan the hundreds of onlookers with cameras and phones pointed directly at them, "…along with the rest of the world."
She glanced around, "Good," she said and then leaned up and kissed his lips again. She breathed into this new real-time reality.
"C'mon baby…I wanna introduce you to my friends," she wiped away a few stray tears.
He reached for her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. They quickly walked back to where her friends and co-stars stood; politely denying requests for interviews, ignoring all the hollers, and avoiding blinding camera flashes.
Their faces beamed as they watched the couple approach them.
"Everybody—I want to introduce you to my love—uh my boyfriend, significant other Rick," she stammered out, more than a little preclempt.
They all laughed in unison.
Letty strode closer to Rick, reached into her purse and pulled out a handkerchief. She handed it to the blushing newcomer.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, My Love, Boyfriend, and…" she paused for a moment.
"Significant other," the others shouted in accord and continued laughing at the disheveled couple.
Rick's face, which was initially red from emotion - and then red from arousal - was now red from embarrassment. He bowed his head and chuckled.
"It's nice to meet y'all too," he said.
Each man quickly approached Rick offering a handshake. He let go of Michonne's hand and returned the greetings. Michonne kept her face nuzzled in his chest. She didn't care in the least that they were all actively laughing more at her than with her.
"Good to meet you, Rick," they said in succession.
"Thank you," he said.
"We'll need to come up with a better description of you, Rick," Danny said, watching him clean the remnants of Michonne's makeup off his face.
"Until we come up with a better name, I'm gonna call you Michonne's boo," Letty said.
They all laughed and gave their own variations of Letty's new title for the discombobulated southern gentleman.
Rick glanced down at Michonne who was still nuzzled into his arm, "I think we're gonna settle on husband," Rick said.
Her head tilted up, "I like the sound of that," she whispered. He leaned down and kissed her again.
"The movie'll be starting soon," someone shouted, "Let's get in there."
They joined hands and walked into the theater together.
...The End...
Also, Their Beginning
Thank you again for reading :-) God Bless...
