Chapter 12: "Don't feel bad that you're starting a new life."
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The mood in Michonne's bedroom was no longer serene. It had shifted from blissful to confrontational in the blink of an eye. The two lovers steeled themselves as they stared at each other from opposite ends of the room.
"Wha- what did you say?"
Bending forward, Rick reached to retrieve his shirt from off of Michonne's bed. "You heard me."
"We discussed this, remember?"
He remembered. But the degree and the severity of her rapid reaction triggered his suspicions. He couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than she'd initially explained. "Is there something else going on here?"
Now her heart raced wildly in her chest. "Something else? Like what?" What the hell was he insinuating?
He shrugged, as he pulled on his clothes. "I really don't see what the big deal is." Stepping around the bed, he then grabbed a hold of his jacket, and moved closer to her. "Are you ashamed, of having me here, now?"
"Rick no, of course not." She looked at him with sympathetic eyes. How could he say that? How sweet and satisfying and completely delightful it was to wake up with him wrapped around her that morning. "I just want today to be uncomplicated is all babe." She shook her head. "There's nothing else."
Lifting his chin, his eyes narrowed down at her. "Being with me is complicated?"
"Yes. I mean no…" She blew out a breath of frustration. 'Oh my god what is happening right now?'
Was she being interrogated? "What I mean is, the situation is… Daryl doesn't know about you yet, and I just can't have some man come out from my bedroom first thing in the morning to meet him. Not like this." What was so hard to understand? If she could only get through this day without incident. If she could just make it through by playing it safe.
Surprising him with Rick, was not playing it safe.
"Are you still in-love with him? Is that it?"
Michonne's jaw fell right open. "I can't believe you just asked me that. After last night? Have you lost your damn mind?" Why was he being so difficult? Why now, when time was of the essence. Having a full-fledged argument right then didn't make any sense. "Listen… this really isn't your decision to make. So… could we do this later?"
"Yeah, no. This, is what's gonna happen. I'm gonna go down there with you, and I'm gonna introduce myself. But I, I won't stay. Not if you don't want me to." His hands then came up and cupped her face. "You're nervous, now I get that… this isn't simple." Peering at her, he tried to discern what it was she was hiding from him – And he felt like she was hiding something from him. But, whatever it was, he needed her to understand that despite the annoyance she felt towards him – the annoyance that was clearly etched across her face – that despite that, she had a point the night before – This relationship couldn't be one-sided. He had a say too. This decision wasn't just hers to make.
"There's no way I'm sneaking out," Rick maintained. "You could forget that."
Michonne clamped her eyes shut and pulled away. "You don't know what I know. It's been three years," she hissed. Her insides recoiled, as she thought back to the emotional roller-coaster her last encounter with Daryl had been.
"Yeah you told me…" But not much else. She never let him know exactly what took place that time before. He figured she would, of course, when the timing was right. And the timing, right then, wasn't right.
She had guests, they were waiting… her daughter, was waiting.
Resigned in his decision, Rick pulled himself together, made up her bed and sat tight, while she showered and got dressed. Once Michonne was finally ready, they began to make their way down the stairs, and, instinctively he grabbed a hold of her hand.
Michonne came to a stop and for a couple of seconds stared at him in silence.
Rick saw the uncertainty written all over her face, "It's better this way," he reassured with a small smile.
She nodded and even gave his hand a quick squeeze but apprehension weighed on her like a heavy stone as they continued into the kitchen.
Once they stepped into the living room, Rick realized that he never paid much attention to the room's décor. It was quite cozy and sophisticated with the bright white interior and contrasting dark hardwood floors. A square, glass framed coffee table sat in the centre of a silver-grey furniture set that added a touch of elegance.
Charlotte, in her polka dot pajamas, was nestled in-between a brown haired man dressed in a dark, V- neck sweater over a white dress shirt, and a striking woman with a caramel colored complexion, and thick black curly hair framing her features. Streaming rays of golden light poured through the window illuminating the threesome on the sofa as the adults doted on the young girl. They were greeted by a picture-perfect scene fit for a catalogue.
Charlotte jumped up when she became aware of their presence. Her feet were surrounded by shiny gift bags in an assortment of colors and sizes. "Mom, finally… Oh! Hey Rick."
"Morning Charlotte," Rick replied, as the couple stood also to meet them.
A serious demeanor in an instant, slid across the man's face as soon as he saw them, or more specifically… him.
When Michonne didn't hesitate to let him go, Rick glanced over to her. There was an indescribable look in her eyes, as she stared at her beaming daughter clinging to her father's waist. Her arms instinctively wrapped around herself.
"Hey," Michonne's ex-husband greeted as he passed his hand affectionately along his daughter's hair.
"Hey, Daryl," She refused to meet his gaze as he peered at her, and neither one attempted to touch the other.
"Who the hell are you?" Daryl shifted his attentions to the stranger next to his ex-wife.
Stretching out his hand, "Rick Grimes," he introduced himself, as he looked him over.
"Huh, is that right?" Daryl grunted, taking Rick's hand and releasing it in a nanosecond, not hesitating to size him up as well.
"It is." Rick nodded at Michonne. "We're together."
"Yeah Daddy," Charlotte chimed in, too excited to pick up on the uneasiness between her parents. "This is Mommy's friend."
"Well… alright." Daryl's eyes shelled a hundred other questions at his uncommunicative ex-wife.
After an awkward silence that ensued, the woman, who stood behind Daryl, cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Hi. I'm Sasha."
"Oh, sorry 'bout that," Daryl apologized as his face went crimson red. "Michonne, Sasha. Sasha, Michonne."
"Hello, nice to meet you." Michonne literally grit her teeth, pursed her lips and presented a plastic smile at the bright young woman who stood prideful at Daryl's side.
Rick could only imagine the barrage of thoughts blazing through her head, as Michonne shook the other woman's hand.
Not wanting to over stay his welcome, being a man of his word, Rick, nonetheless, made a quick exit. He wasn't supposed to be there. He felt it. It displeased him, but he left. In any case, if the prickly tension between the two exes was any indication of how the visit was going to be, he doubted that it would last for very long.
For the next fifteen minutes, Michonne found herself sitting on the two-seater with her daughter, their arms linked, listening to Daryl's fiancé as the couple reseated themselves on the sofa. Sasha raved about the bakery where they purchased the croissants they'd brought with them. Apparently, she loved bread and pastries, a love that was passed on to her from her grandparents. But white flour raises your risk for diabetes, so, she only indulged on special occasions.
"Mom, you okay?" Charlotte whispered, taking note of the glazed look on her mother's face.
"Yes sweetie. Just… exhausted," Michonne nodded with a reassuring smile. The truth was she couldn't help but wonder how this woman fit with Daryl, other than the tight cut black leather jacket she wore over a white T-shirt and jeans. What was it that made her agree to be his wife? Of course she knew why she herself married the bastard, but Sasha had nothing in common with her. This woman seemed to be Daryl's opposite, flashing her pearly whites every chance she got. While Mr. Dixon had a permanent scowl on his face.
"Can I just say, you have such a beautiful home. I adore the layout," Sasha complimented, her hands gesturing at the space as her eyes trailed up to the ceiling then back down to the floor.
"Thank you. It's comfortable," Michonne said.
"Sasha, she's into real estate so she's got a good eye." Daryl threw his arm around her shoulders.
"That's how we met actually," Sasha added. "I helped him find his new house in Hollywood Hills. It has an amazing view, so of course it was an easy sell," she chuckled.
"Really Daddy?" Charlotte beamed.
"Yeah, you'll love it out there," Daryl commented, glancing cautiously at Michonne.
"Mmhmm. Okay," Was all Michonne could say, as she clutched her daughter closer.
Not too long afterwards, the front door opened, "Hello. We're here." Carol and Morgan had arrived.
'Thank you thank you thank you God!'
Michonne had all but forgotten that she requested their company. They would buffer her from the stress of the day.
"Hey there's my pookie," said Carol, as she and her husband entered the living room.
"Who the hell is pookie?" Daryl creased his forehead.
"Well it sure as shit isn't you, now is it?" Carol scowled at him. It didn't take much for this young man to irk her. By the time she'd become Mrs. Jones, his marriage to her niece, unfortunately, was already on the rocks. Therefore, their encounters were typically terse at the very best.
"Damn. You still got a mouth on you, don'cha?" Daryl rose up from the sofa once again, and his fiancé followed suit.
Carol flashed him a fake smile before turning to give Charlotte a kiss on her forehead.
"Daryl my boy," Morgan interjected. "It's a real pleasure to see you." He shook his hand. Always so cordial. The epitome of Southern hospitality. "And aren't you gonna introduce us to this lovely lady?"
"Yeah. This here is Sasha… Uncle Morgan," Daryl shifted allowing them to greet each other, "… and that succubus over there, is his wife Carol."
Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. "Daddy, seriously?"
"Sorry princess, I'm just messin' around. Ain't that right, Carol?"
However, taking a seat in the recliner the woman kept silent. The looks of disdain between the two were so severe, it was downright laughable.
Yes, ideal buffer indeed.
As Morgan settled on the arm rest next to his wife, the conversation changed to, and revolved around, the younger couple's plans for their upcoming June wedding. Everything from the venue to the dessert table was mentioned. Even details such as Sasha's favourite flower, white calla lilies, would be a prominent aspect in the reception's décor. With four bridesmaids and grooms men, she would've also liked for Charlotte to join the bridal party with her seven year old niece Kendra, as a flower girl. And their guest list? Well they preferred to keep the gathering small and simple – Just around two hundred and fifty of their closest family and friends.
"Two hundred and fifty? That's small?" remarked Uncle Morgan. "I didn't even know Daryl had that many friends to begin with," he chuckled.
"Hmm," Michonne responded with bare interest. Friends? Or his entourage? His groupies perhaps? He most assuredly had his hands filled with those.. Same difference she guessed. They could throw the rice after the ceremony at the happy couple… or their pregnancy tests…
"Well…" Sasha began to explain, "… honestly, most persons invited are from my side of the family. We're a big group. My Dad alone has eight brothers and sisters. And my big brother just had kid number four."
"All live out in California?" Carol asked.
"No. Actually I'm from Florida originally. Moved out west for college, and well… I never looked back. I mean L.A. is so fascinating. The most interesting people I've ever met. I love it out there. And so does Daryl. It's his favourite place to be." She then raised her hand and caressed the side of his face. "Isn't that right honey?"
"Yeah… interesting people, lots of them. I love it." Daryl replied, in his usual monotone voice, yet with a half smile and a quick nod.
Michonne quirked a brow at him. "Hmm. Is that right?" she repeated. It definitely didn't seem so – well, not when she lived out there. No there wasn't anything or anyone interesting enough that could've kept his lily-white… sorry… his calla lily-white ass at home. Not even a brand new baby.
Daryl rubbed his palms together, perturbed by Michonne's caustic question. "It is." His reply held a notable acidic tone as he knew instantly what his ex-wife was implying.
"Yes, interesting people. Hmm," Michonne glanced away from him.
"That your damned answer for everything now?" he spat out.
Michonne swept her loose locs to the side and chuckled. He was so easy.
"Okay… well," Morgan spoke up, "My Carol brought a scrumptious fruit salad that's really out of this world. So how's 'bout we take a break?"
As Carol made her way off the chair, about to dish out, Michonne stopped her, insisting that she would handle it instead. So Carol opted to take Charlotte up to her room to get changed, and also to put her gift bags away. Sasha sweetly volunteered herself and Daryl to assist with carrying the dozen or so bags. And if Michonne didn't mind, she had a keen interest in the layout of the rest of the house, not to mention that Lego set collection the pre-teen had been dying to show off.
Michonne shook her head. "I don't mind."
However, "Give me a moment aight? I'll be right up with you. Promise." Daryl lingered behind, joining his ex-wife in the kitchen.
"Come on 'Chonne, what the hell?" he said, as soon as everyone else was out of earshot. "Don'cha know you gotta give me a heads up? You just gone and spring some dude on me?"
Opening an overhead cupboard, she reached up to take down six ceramic dessert bowls. "I didn't plan it this way," she hissed. "It just happened. Wasn't thinking about you. Besides… you're two hours early."
Daryl moved to the kitchen island and uncovered Carol's serving dish. He picked out a blueberry and slipped it into his mouth. "Well we caught an early flight. Didn't think it would've mattered. Why you ain't mention him before?"
Michonne turned and stepped over, just in time to slap him on his wrist as he tried to swipe another berry. "It's none of your business, that's why." Removing the dessert from his grubby fingers to the other counter top, she then pulled open her cutlery draw and retrieved a serving spoon.
"Like hell it ain't Michonne. Can't have some perv hanging around my girls."
"What did you say?" She slammed the spoon down and whirled partially to face him.
He shook his head. "Nothin'"
She regarded him in silence for a few moments, choosing her next few words wisely. "Rick and I, we work together. He's a good man."
"How long?"
Turning her back, she grabbed up the spoon and continued filling the bowls. "Not long. We're just starting out."
"And he's met my baby girl already?"
"We work together Daryl," she huffed. "Besides, she likes him."
He stepped over and appeared beside her.
Her body went rigid. She froze. Unable to help herself, she even held her breath. Slowly, she allowed her gaze to meet his, in between the lengthy strands of his hair. When she did, doubt, mixed with a dose of suspicion, was swirling in his eternally sad eyes.
Michonne shook her head at him, waiting for the response that was on the tip of his tongue.
"I don't," he said, in the next moment.
She sighed. "Don't what?"
"I don't like him." He shook his hair away from his face as he stared at her.
"You've just met him. We can arrange some –"
"It don't matter," he insisted, "Still won't like him."
She gave a bitter laugh at his childishness, some things will never change. He wanted to have his cake, and eat it too. "Well I like Sasha. So get over it."
"You do? Could have fooled me."
Needing a bit of space, Michonne moved towards the fridge, opening it to search for a can of whip cream. "I do." Her issue with the woman was if she knew just what the hell she was getting into.
He took up one of the bowls. "Yeah well, she's likeable."
With narrowed eyes she spun around to glare at him. "Excuse me, what is that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Give me a break Daryl. Enough with the bull –"
"Hey!" Waltzing in right then, and thankfully so, with a sing-song voice, and a bottle of wine, was her savior and best friend. "Like a good neighbor, Andrea is here."
A good neighbor indeed. She came in the bloody nick of time…although, to be honest Michonne never invited her. But still… Her heart lifted, and she grinned at her. "Took you long enough."
"My apologies girlfriend." Handing over the bottle, Andrea then looked between the two before surveying Daryl. "Mr. Dixon, you're looking… better."
"Yeah right. I'm gonna go check on Charlie." He turned and exited without delay. Only been there for an hour, and the place was like a damn circus. Who else was gonna show up next? Bobo the clown?
The petite blonde held her friend's hand and winked at her. "Don't worry Mich. I've got your back."
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After all the chit chat, while everyone feasted on fruit salad, croissants and juice, Michonne was ready for the visit to be over and done. Despite the glass of red she and Andrea gulped down, she'd had enough. Enough of the wedding talk. Enough of her daughter gushing over her father. And enough of holding her tongue, swallowing her resentment. She didn't know what this was, but it proved to be a true test of strength and willpower to stay calm and get through this sickening ordeal of pretense for the sake of her angel.
It was time to get back to Rick anyway. Twice she'd excused herself to use the bathroom so that she could call him. But the man refused to answer. And even more alarming, there were no return calls either. Like he couldn't be serious, could he? Was he that upset? It began to bother her.
When time came at last for them to leave, Sasha wanted to go sightseeing downtown, and so Daryl requested if he could take Charlotte along. Michonne agreed, but on the conditions that her Uncle accompanied them, and that her daughter was to be returned home before dark. Morgan and Carol, to whom she was very much indebted at that point, did her the favor and went along.
Just as everyone filed out of her house Daryl told Sasha to hold on in the car for him.
He hovered in the kitchen's archway as Michonne decided to help herself to a second serving of the left over salad.
Attempting to ignore him, Michonne's thoughts were focused on trying to get a hold of Rick again.
"Why you got her taking after that crazy woman?" he finally uttered. "I don't like her talking that way," Daryl was a bit shocked to hear some unsavory words pass his daughter's lips as she conversed with her aunt Andrea.
"That Dixon blood is why she sometimes has no cover for her mouth," Michonne excused, with an impatient. Besides, the apple never falls too far from the tree. There was some truth to that. In any case, Andrea and Charlotte loved and understood each other. "Don't worry, she's fine."
"No. She ain't…"
Michonne stopped and glanced up at him. After having made it through the past couple of hours without incident, this man was determined to start something. Like an itch he needed to scratch.
"… Not when her folks carry on like we do," he continued. "She texts me, you that right?"
"Yeah. I know that." Nodding her head she studied him, wondering what was he getting at.
"I mean like every day. Every morning, I've gotten messages like 'Hi Daddy, hope you have a great day!' But now it's more like 'Daddy, hope you think about me all the time, because I'm thinking about you.' Or, 'Daddy I miss you. Please, come see me?'"
Michonne's heart clenched at the strangled sound in his voice. It compelled her to draw in a long breath.
"Our baby girl's been hurtin'," he asserted. "What we been doing… it ain't right. Letting our feelings about each other take precedent over what's best for her, is messing her up. Don't stand there and tell me BS that she's okay… cause she ain't! If you can't see that–"
"I see it! Okay." It crushed her spirit, knowing that she failed her child. "Our situation is not perfect Daryl, there's no need to remind me of that. Because I'm struggling with my shortcomings too, everyday. But this is just the best that I could do." Her solemn confession poured out thick with grief. This devastation was not what she envisioned when she decided to have a family. Her parents, they never taught her this. She knew better.
Daryl's own guilt forced him to lower his head. He had no response. He could only acknowledge within himself how difficult their failure must be for her as well, and the huge part he played in destroying their family's happiness.
He slumped back against the wall, and Michonne stared at the top of his head.
"I don't know…" he whispered, after awhile of going quiet, "…if I could, say the same…If this is my best. Back then, when I still had the two of you, I didn't know how, to be better for you and for her." Lifting his gaze again, this time he focused beyond her. "With all this, me getting married again… she's smiling but…"He shrugged his shoulders.
Michonne shook her head. "Don't feel bad, for starting a new life. Honestly I thought you would've done this sooner." Michonne offered with genuineness. The truth was that Daryl was a loner, much like herself when they'd first met during her days at college. Having that in common granted them an innate understanding of each other right off the bat.
But deep down to his core, in spite of his aloofness, he craved that familial level of intimacy. When she ended things, she knew it would hurt like a bitch. He'd be stuck with his asshole brother Merle for love and support. And that's exactly what she wanted – to leave him alone, and in need. Just as he had done to her, amongst other things, when he chose to spend so much time away. For the past five years she paid him in kind. No wife, no child, no happy home.
But he found his way out, she supposed. He was moving forward.
Michonne scooped out an extra spoon of fruit for herself. "Charlotte's happy for you. She is."
"That's what you're doing with this Rick, starting a new life?"
Michonne stared at the pegs of mandarin that filled her bowl. "Maybe," Their uncomfortable exchange replayed in her mind and everything else after that, right up until he left. She wondered if there was any way it could've been avoided – If she could make it up to him. She hated that he wouldn't answer his damned phone. Was he trying to prove something by avoiding her calls? Her brows furrowed, "I want to," she admitted, looking up to Daryl to say something equally encouraging.
Instead, his expression closed off from her. His glass-like gaze went blank before it dropped again to the floor. In a flash, he'd bottled up his emotions, and with an air of resignation Daryl straightened up, gave her one last nod, and like a wounded bird, he walked away.
'Typical.'
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