"The only love that I really believe in is a mother's love for her children."
Karl Lagerfeld


Rick has been mentioning a friend of his that has a son that may die. The friend has a wife who has pushed the husband to find money to save their son, named Harold.

"Well, what is she doing?" I asked. I stopped cleaning the vegetables while Rick chopped the carrots.

"She who?" He asked.

"Your friend's wife? What is she doing to ensure that her son, their son will get the surgery."

My voice and query brought him back from wherever his mind was taking him lately.

"What do you mean what is she doing?" His tone had a little extra to it. I took notice of it.

"Is she taking on a job? Two Jobs?"

"Why would she do that if she has to take care of the son? The son, Harry is sick and will die, not a snotty nose kid with the stomach flu that will get better in a day or two and go back to school." His tone was terse.

"Oh. Excuse me." I placed more vegetables in front of him to chop.

"I didn't mean to snap at you Michonne," Rick whispered a few seconds later. "I am sorry."

"I am sorry for the friend. I am sorry to hear that he has been put in a dire situation to roam the streets in search of odd jobs. How much did you say he needed?"

"420K grand." I had already given him approximately 80k. This need had to have been 500k. Makes more sense to me. Hey this is a hold up give me 420k dollars all in singles and fives if you got it. Just doesn't make sense. I didn't tell Rick my thoughts. These were just my thoughts in my Al Pacino voice that Rick thinks is a horrible impression.

I was standing on his left. My eyes burrowed a hole on the side of his face. I spied his ring finger, and there were no tan marks. Not even when I had taken his hand when he gave me my Ginger Jar of Coke, and I had made a comment on his rough hands. I didn't want to get pissed off, but I was going to go there freely with him.

"Such an odd amount to think that someone could get that kind of money by taking on what kind of jobs did you say?"

"Odd jobs, Michonne."

"Odd jobs." I repeated and continued, "I think any woman married to a man that could only find employment in the odd jobs industry shouldn't think her husband could magically come up with that kind of money. And the two or three jobs she would need to work, Walmart, Daryl's Automotive, and the Honky Tonk wasn't going to get anywhere close to that amount."

I remembered these places based on random memories of our Ambien induced state of not giving a fuck that we were in our PJs sightseeing in King's County.

"Very Rich coming from you." Rick chopped faster.

"I am Rich, and I would never have a man of mine go out there hustling for money. I wouldn't, but I can't really talk because I killed my husband."

Rick stopped chopping.

"I know what it is like to be unreasonable. I know what it is like to lose a child. I know it from personal experience. It shapes us, or it can destroy us. You have helped me a lot, Rick. You've helped me. You can't stop me from helping, and if you were to ask, it comes with a condition."

"This story was about a friend of mine." Rick turned to me giving me full eye contact before looking away as if he didn't want to spill tears.

"If I weren't paying for you to be here, where would you be? What would you be doing right now? If I weren't paying for this?" I motioned my hand between us.

"I would be home."