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Chapter 25: Bonding Time?
A Week Later
"It's a strange night."
Michonne scrubbed the dish in her hands, cleansing it of any leftover food residue. The sponge in her hand secreted a gratuitous glob of soap as she squeezed it for aide in her task.
Her dreaded hair was pulled into a ponytail that swept the very bottom of her shoulderblades as she washed the plate clean. She always preferred washing dishes the old-fashioned way rather than using a washing machine. Not only did she feel like the dishes got a more thorough cleaning, but she also felt reassured somehow – like everything was normal. Like the old days.
And that's a similarity she shared with the woman drying dishes beside her.
She handed a newly washed, glass plate off to Lori. Lori's hair was also pulled into a messy ponytail as she worked.
"It is," Michonne said, in reply to Lori's observation. Every night that passed peacefully felt strange to Michonne. She had been expecting Negan to come sooner than this. They didn't know when he would attack and that was causing her to become increasingly tense as each day passed. She didn't share her reasoning for feeling strange with Lori, though. She figured she'd let the brunette lead the conversation because it was clear she wanted to talk about something. That had been clear from the moment that she had first volunteered to help with the dishes.
"...He won't talk to me..." Lori finally said.
Michonne didn't have to ask who Lori was talking about. She knew. The awkward tension between Rick and Lori had been unbearably tangible for the last few days.
"I'm not even sure if he's talked to Carl..." Lori finished.
Michonne hadn't even seen Carl lately – he made sure to be out of the house every day as soon as he could manage.
Michonne kept washing dishes, unsure why the other woman was bringing this up to her.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm talking to you about this..." Lori guessed correctly.
"It crossed my mind..." Michonne affirmed.
Lori was silent for a time, as if she was working up the nerve to say the next words that came out of her mouth. "I...I heard you upstairs with Rick a few days ago...And last night too."
Michonne continued washing dishes, trying not to feel uncomfortable with the new subject matter – but it was impossible. She was leaving it up to Rick to discuss with Lori whatever he needed to discuss...she was trying to stay out of it. So she wasn't sure what discussions had taken place between Rick and Lori...but she felt like she was about to find out.
"...He won't talk to me..." Lori breathed. There was a discernible amount of shame and pain in her voice.
Michonne didn't even want to think about what it might feel like to ask an ex's new lover for help with family matters. And that seemed to be exactly what Lori was doing.
"I was thinking maybe you could talk to him," Lori finished. "Just to see where he's at."
Michonne finished washing the last plate and handed it to Lori. Turning the faucet off, she turned to the other woman. It seemed deafeningly quiet without the stream of water hitting the sink. "I'm not going to do that," Michonne said.
Shock at being rejected so bluntly caused Lori to pause in the drying of the dish before she started scrubbing it dry again with new vigor. "Oh," she said. "You're right. I'm...I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have asked."
"I'm not going to ask him," Michonne said. "Because it's not my place. This is between you and him. You have to talk to him."
"He doesn't listen to me."
In frustration, Lori sat the dish aside – her task finished. It clinked against the other plates already in the tray.
"Do you want him to listen or do you want to talk to him?" Michonne asked.
"I don't know what you mean," Lori said with a shake of her head.
"The fact that you want him to listen implies that you're the one that's going to be doing all the talking," Michonne said.
As Lori took those words in, Michonne heard a thud against the side of the house. It repeated itself. "Wait here," Michonne said, starting off to check on the strange sound.
"Michonne," Lori called her back before she could go. Michonne turned and waited for Lori's next words.
Lori hesitated for a moment before she said what she wanted to say. "...I still love him."
Michonne was quiet for a moment before she responded. "I love him too..."
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Michonne found the origin of the suspicious noises when she went outside and saw Carl leaning against the side of the house. He was tapping a stick against the exterior of the residence – a seemingly subconscious action since he was deep in thought.
Michonne stopped short. She wasn't sure if she wanted to deal with the angsty teen. In the past week, she and the boy had come to an unspoken agreement that they'd just stay out of each other's way. But before Michonne could turn and walk away – her curiosity for where the sound was coming from satisfied – Carl turned her way. His expression immediately soured. "What?" he asked, his tone short and with an edge.
Michonne was growing weary of the continuous attitude. She pointed at the stick in his hand. "Stop banging that thing against the house."
Carl glared at her. And just to show her that she couldn't tell him what to do, he drew the stick back and struck it loudly against the wall of the house.
Michonne had enough.
She slid her katana off of her shoulder and leaned it against the side of the building. "You ever fight anyone, Carl?"
Carl looked at her incredulously. "What?"
"You ever fight anyone?" Michonne asked again. She rolled up her sleeves and walked toward an empty patch of grass.
"Yeah," Carl said, still watching her incredulously.
"Good," Michonne said. She planted herself in the empty space between her house and the next and put her hands on her hips. "Fight me. No weapons." Her voice and body language read as completely serious.
Carl pulled a face as if what Michonne requested was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "No," he refused emphatically.
"Why not?" Michonne asked.
"I'm not going to fight a woman," he said. The entire conversation was throwing him off guard; Michonne could tell by the unsettled positioning of his body.
"You were ready to kill me when we first met," Michonne said. "What's the difference?"
Carl didn't know how to respond.
"Or maybe...you're scared," Michonne prodded.
Carl scowled. "I'm going inside," he said, pushing away from the house to head back in and up to his room.
"You're right," Michonne called to his retreating back. "It's not a fair fight. You're just a kid."
Carl stopped in his tracks and turned around. Michonne waited for him to make a move. "I'm not a kid."
"Fine," Michonne retorted. "Then show me."
Carl didn't move for another moment, but when he did, he reached behind himself to pull his handgun from the back of his pants. Michonne tensed until he sat it aside. "You should really start putting that thing in a holster," she said. "It's safer."
Carl glared, unappreciative of more advice from her. He stood back up and walked toward her.
"If I win," Michonne said. "You have to stop giving everyone in this house the cold shoulder. And you have to come down to eat breakfast with everyone else. If you win...I'll leave."
Michonne's offer sparked interest in Carl's eyes.
"Really?" he asked.
"Really."
Carl walked closer and squared his shoulders. "What's a win?" he asked. "Do I have to, like..." he shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Knock you out or something?"
Michonne held back an amused smirk. "Whoever's back touches the ground first loses."
Carl still looked uncomfortable but he agreed. "Okay."
He stood still, and for a moment, Michonne didn't know if he was even going to attack at all. But he did.
He seemed to have the idea of getting this match over with as soon as possible, so he lunged forward with the intention of simply pushing her to the ground. Michonne reacted instinctively and sidestepped him, hooking her foot around his ankle to trip him as she went. Carl fell to the ground, catching himself on his hands.
"You're gonna have to do better than that," Michonne taunted.
Carl pushed himself up from the ground almost as quickly as he had fallen; he was embarrassed. He didn't hesitate in his next move.
He reached forward and grabbed Michonne's wrist. She quickly used the weight of his own body against him by jerking her arm back and causing him to fall off-balance. He strumbled into her space, giving her the opportunity to turn him around and capture him in a headlock. He struggled against her, but Michonne wouldn't let him go.
"You should probably just give up," she said in his ear.
"Never," Carl said back through gritted teeth. He stepped backwards and pressed the heel of his foot onto her toes.
A sharp pain shot through Michonne's foot and she recoiled, loosening her grip on Carl. "Ow!" she said, automatically hopping – wanting to relieve the pain.
"Hey! What's going on over here?"
Rick's voice cut across the yard, ringing sternly.
Carl immediately pointed a finger at Michonne. "She started it."
Still cursing the pain in her foot, Michonne looked up at Rick. He was holding Andre's hand as the little boy walked beside him. "I did," Michonne admitted. "What are you doing with Andre?" She held her arms out toward him and that's all it took for Andre to come running toward her. She lifted him into her arms.
"He wanted to come see you," Rick said. He was still looking between his son and Michonne, confused about what he had just interrupted. "Can I ask why you two were fighting? Because it looked like you two were fighting from where I was standing."
"We were just working things out," Michonne replied vaguely. "Right, Carl?"
"Right," Carl muttered. "He's not going to stay with us, is he?" Carl asked, pointing towards Andre.
Andre didn't seem to hear him; he was too busy trying to wiggle his way out of Michonne's arms. "Mama, put me down. I can walk."
Michonne relented, putting him down on his feet. She was both happy and sad to do so. Happy that he was no longer afraid but sad that her little man was already growing up to be so big.
"He is," Rick answered Carl. "Come here...I wanna talk to you."
"No thanks," Carl said before turning and running off.
Michonne watched him go. She turned back to see an expression of hopelessness and hurt on Rick's face. "He'll come around," she said.
"That's what I've been telling myself for a week now," Rick said. "I try to do things with him, but he won't have anything to do with me."
'Well, that answers Lori's question,' Michonne thought. Rick was trying.
"What was going on here?" Rick asked, walking closer to her. "Is he giving you trouble?"
"No," Michonne said. "I'm just figuring out my own way to deal with him..."
Rick nodded.
"What about you?" Michonne asked. "Did Mike give you any trouble when you went to pick up Andre?"
"No," Rick said. He glanced down at Andre, reminding himself to be careful with his words. "I don't think we'll be having anymore trouble from him for a while." His eyes became sympathetic towards Michonne. "I'm sorry things are so difficult for you right now. Because of me."
"It's not difficult," Michonne reassured him. "But you should talk to Lori. She's waiting for you in the kitchen."
Rick sighed. "I was waiting for them for so long," he confided. "Now that they're here, I don't know what to say." He scratched his brow. "I feel like a failure."
Michonne took his hand and waited until he looked at her. "You're not a failure," she said. "Just go talk to Lori. Nothing will ever get figured out if you keep putting it off."
Rick nodded again. "Okay...I'll go."
Michonne smiled. "While you're doing that...Andre and I...will go visit Ezekial. It's time that he comes out of his funk. Right, Andre?"
"Yay!" Andre screamed, excited to visit Uncle Ezekial again.
"Okay," Rick said. "Remember to keep a walkie on you. We don't know when Negan's going to show up."
Michonne gave a nod. "Of course."
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Lori was pacing the living room when Rick came inside. At first she didn't acknowledge him. He stood by the door until she did.
"I embarrassed myself today," she said. "By asking Michonne about you. I shouldn't have to go through her to know how you're feeling."
"I know," Rick said, feeling guilty. "I'm ready to talk."
"Not here," Lori said.
"What?"
"Let's go out."