The morning begins like all the other mornings have for the past seven months. I woke up nauseous and got sick, but only for about thirty minutes today, before taking a lukewarm shower to cool me. After I dry off and get dressed for the day, I take my mint tea off my night stand and pad barefoot to the kitchen for breakfast.
I've been doing really well keeping most things down. The smell of eggs still gags me, but I can hold it in. I usually can handle smells after the morning, except for the smell of venison, which we've been refraining from since we discovered it made me sick.
Because the day turned out to be so nice, I told Dwight we should work outside. After he agreed, I suggested he work in the garden, but he said he'd rather do the laundry. I think he didn't realize that I was a little behind on it, so it's taken him almost three hours to wash everything, especially since our line can only hold so much at a time.
"Mommy, look what I got."
I unbend from over the planter box to see. "Oh, what is that?"
"A worm!"
I smile. "No, that's a caterpillar, silly."
"Oh," She watches as the little grey crawly thing inches across her fingers, "A caterpillar."
"Be careful with him," I tell her, "He's just a little fella."
"Okay, Mommy."
"In fact, why don't you go give it to your dad," I go back to my work, "Away from the garden."
"'Kay!" She runs off. "Daddy, look!"
I use my forearm to pat sweat away from my face. I briefly glance over to Negan, working a few feet away from me. Then, I gently pat the soil around after I had put down some fresh fertilizer.
"You know, I gotta say, this is a sweet ass garden," Negan says as he works, "I've never seen fruits and veggies so fucking vibrant."
I briefly look over. "Well, Dwight's to thank for that," I tell him, "God knows I can't get anything to grow. That lemon tree over there?"
Negan looks over his shoulder. "That's a lemon tree?"
"Yes," I try not to take it sorely, "I planted that shortly after we moved here, without Dwight's help, and it's never once produced a lemon."
"Shit, I thought you just planted that or something," He shifts back forward, "It's no taller than Birdie."
"Quit exaggerating," I huff, "Dwight said it's about six feet."
"Well, it's still fucking short."
"I know that." I exhale.
"I'm only giving you a hard time."
"I know that, too."
"Mommy!" Birdie comes back over. "Mommy, I wanna swing."
"Have Daddy push you," I say to her, "Mommy's working."
"Daddy said 'later.'"
"Well, you'll have to wait then, Bird."
"Aww!" She wails.
"See if Daddy needs help."
"I don't want to help."
"Then sit here with me."
"No!"
"Watch your tone."
"I don't want to."
"Would you rather sit in time out?"
"No!"
"Then behave yourself."
Birdie puts her arms around me. "I love you, Mommy."
I peck her cheek. "Love you, too, Pidge. Now go play."
She releases me from her embrace. She lingers instead of running along, looking over at Negan in the garden, who smiles when he takes notice of her staring.
"Go play, baby." I encourage her.
"You're not fun." She pouts as she walks off in a sulk.
"I know." I sigh, unoffended by her toddler insult.
"You know, I could-"
"Could you bring me the watering can?" I point to it on the ground.
"Sure." He walks over to the watering can, picks it up, and brings it to me.
"Thanks." I begin to water.
"You alright?"
"Yes."
"You sure?" He asks, staring down at me. "'Cause you look uncomfortable."
"I am," I admit, "But I'm okay."
"Your back?
"Yeah, but like I said I'm okay to keep working. We're almost done anyway."
Negan remains standing there. "You know, I could finish it myself. Let you get off your swollen feet."
"I said I'm fine, Negan." I say more adamantly.
"Ookay." He walks back to where he was. He crouches down to keep working. "You get those cramps?"
"No."
"Huh," He digs a small shovel into the dirt, "Could have sworn you had one a few days ago."
"When you came up to the house?" I use the planter box's wall to push myself up. "Yeah, that was a cramp. The first one I've had this pregnancy."
He looks up and meets my eyes and doesn't say anything to that.
"Hey," Dwight comes over, carrying a basket filled past the brim with laundry, "I'm gonna go put this away."
"Okay." I force a smile to hide my misery.
"You wanna head in for a bit?" He asks with knitted brows. Guess maybe I'm not easily convincing.
"No, I'm alright."
"You sure?"
"Mhm." I nod my head.
"Okay." He eyes Negan, before heading in.
Negan watches Dwight go into the house. He then blinks back to me. "Isn't he gonna call Rick?"
"Our radio doesn't reach that far," I tell him, "And we don't have enough gas to drive to a closer distance to call him."
"He could walk."
"That could day all day," I shake my head, "He doesn't want to leave me and Birdie here without a quick way to get back home."
He nods. "I could go with him."
"I...don't want him to go far without a quick way home."
He nods again, not too satisfied with the implication. "Well, so what then? You're stuck with me until gas rains from the sky, or someone comes up this way?"
I look at him, but I don't respond.
…
I end the day with a nice soak in the bathtub. My body is killing me and it's my own damn fault. I get oddly prideful about not being the fragile pregnant woman and it really isn't doing me any favors.
I get out and make my best attempt to wrap the towel around me all the way. I always forget to bring my change of clothes into the bathroom, so I have to walk out to get my pajamas.
Dwight's sitting in bed, reading a book with the front end folded back like he does.
"What are you reading now?"
"The same book."
"I don't think you'll ever finish that one." I softly say.
"I'm halfway through."
"You've been halfway through for about a year now."
"Well...I get distracted every time I try to put in the effort."
"I think you distract yourself more than anything else." I turn around.
He's got the book down on the nightstand. Birdie's laying on my side, curled into a warm ball.
"You're gonna have to let me slide in your way."
"Yeah."
I walk over to the bed. "Did you lock the door?"
"Yep."
I nod. "You could just scooch over and let me sleep on your side and you in the middle."
"I get up earlier than you."
"I get up to pee a lot."
"I don't mind moving for you."
"You are such a liar."
"Alright, I'll sleep in the middle."
I lay down in the bed as he moves for me. "My hero."
He wiggles over some more.
I bring the blanket to my chest. "I'm so tired."
"Me, too."
I turn to my side to get off my back. I look at him looking off somewhere. My arm reached over and rests across him. Leaning over, I kiss him a soft kiss on the scarred cheek.
"I love you."
"Love you, too." He breathes.
I study his face that hasn't changed expression. "D?"
"For what?"
I open my mouth, but my throat hurts. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
A tear trails down my face as I close my eyes.
…
The garage traps heat in the summer. Even with the door open, it's like an oven. I guess it would have been cruel to leave Negan in here. Then again, it'd still beat the cells back at the Sanctuary. Sure as hell beats getting an iron to the face.
I put the cigarette to my mouth and take a drag as I stare out of the mouth of the garage. I didn't find gas a few days ago, but I found a couple pack of cigarettes I didn't tell Nan about. I had quit cold turkey, which was a bitch, but after Negan showed up, I'm back at it. I'm out here trying to hide it.
"Dwight?"
"Shit." I exhale smoke, putting the cigarette out on the paved floor of the garage.
"Dwight?"
"Yeah, I'm coming!" I go to the little sink and wash my hands. I swish and spit some water, too. If I walked in sucking on a mint, she'd know.
"Dwight?"
I open the garage to the house. "What?"
"I made lunch."
"Oh, okay," I shut the door behind me, "I'll be right there."
"What were you doing out there?"
"I was looking for a tool."
"Okay." She looks me over, before turning to go to the kitchen. "Birdie, come eat your lunch."
"I wanna play outside."
"After you eat lunch and take your nap." Nan pulls out Birdie's chair for her.
"Where's Negan?"
"He's still outside." She tells me, walking to the kitchen door she propped open.
I watch as she goes halfway between outside and inside.
"I made lunch."
He says something I can't make out.
"I said I made lunch," Nan repeats, "Do you wanna come in for a break?"
She walks back in.
"Mommy, I don't like these." Birdie holds up a thin cucumber slice.
"I want you to try them, before you decide that." Nan says, putting a plate with a sandwich at my place. "You want any cucumbers?"
"Did you-"
"Yes, I put some in your sandwich," She brings her own plate over, "Do you want any just to eat?"
"Oh, no." I bite into my sandwich.
She continues to stand by the table, staring at me. "Are you sure you don't want any to eat?"
I look up. "No."
Her eyes move to Birdie and then back at me.
"Je-sus!" Negan comes through the door. "It's fucking hotter than pussy out there."
Nan looks over at him unhappily. "Don't talk like that."
Negan swipes the grime and sweat off his face and neck with a kitchen towel he swiped off the counter. "What's for lunch?"
"Sandwiches," Nan tells him, sitting down, "Yours is on the counter still."
Negan goes to the counter and then comes to the table with his plate, sitting down at an empty space at the opposite head. He lifts the bread and peeks under, before picking up the half and eating it.
"Thanks for the pepper on my mayo."
"Mhm." Nan eats a cucumber slice.
I look up from my sandwich, over to Nan and then briefly to him. I notice his bread isn't toasted like ours.
"Daddy, here," Birdie extends a cucumber slice my way, "I don't like them."
"You haven't tried them," Nan looks at her, "I want you to take one bite."
"I don't like them." Birdie drops the slice just off from her plate.
"I'll take 'em, if you're not getting eat 'em," Negan motions for the cucumbers as he chews, "I'm fucking famished."
"Negan," Nan looks at him, "Watch your mouth."
"Alright, sorry," Negan rolls his eyes, "Can I have the cucumbers?"
Nan looks over at Birdie. "Are you gonna try them?"
"No." Birdie shakes her head.
Nan sighs, picking up Birdie's plate and extending it towards Negan.
"Thank you." He grabs the heap of them and transfers them to his plate. He takes one up and crunches it in his mouth. "Mm!"
Birdie watches Negan eat more of the cucumber slices. "Mommy, I want my cutecumber back."
"You wanna try them?"
"Yeah, I want them back."
"Oh, well, here, you can have some of mine."
Birdie takes a cucumber slice and bites into it.
Nan looks over expectantly. "You like them?"
She nods her head, still chewing. "Yeah."
Nan smiles a little. Her smile wanes when our eyes meet and she goes back to her sandwich.
"So, your garden's in tit top shape." Negan says, smiling over at Birdie. His eyes blink to mine. "What else do you want me to do to earn my keep?"
"We've got some flowers and plants in the front yard," Nan says, "You can take care for those."
"Yes, ma'am," He agrees happily, "I see you got some plants around the house, you want me to see to those, too?"
"No, I can water those." Nan eats her sandwich.
He nods his head. His eyes trail back to me and smile smugly. "Anything you wanna give me to do, D?"
I drag my tongue along my teeth. "You loosened some of the steaks down at the barriers when you climbed over them, so you're gonna fix 'em first thing tomorrow."
He eats another cucumber. "Sounds good."
Nan looks over at me, but doesn't say anything.
"Daddy, I wanna swing."
"I'll push you after your nap."
"I don't wanna nap."
"Birdie eat your food." Nan tells her, smoothing a hand over her stomach as she eats, giving it a light pat.
"The baby's kicking you?" Birdie crunches her cucumber.
"Mhm," Nan smiles kindly to her as she swallows her sandwich, "Wanna feel?"
"I don't like the baby." Birdie mildly claims.
"So is that a no?"
Birdie thinks about it for a moment.
"Oh, time's up," Nan says, taking another bite, "They stopped."
"You're fat, Mommy."
"Birdie," I give her a look when she glances my way, "Say you're sorry."
"Why?"
"Because that wasn't nice."
"I'm not sorry."
"You will be if you don't say you're sorry right now."
Birdie puts on her most stubborn pout. "No!"
I breathe out, putting down my napkin. As I do, an abrupt scuff against the floor. I look across the table and realize that while he seems to have not moved, it was Negan's chair we heard.
I stare, wondering why. Nan has also looked that way, curious. I then look back to Birdie after the pause. I hike my thumb behind me. "Go sit in timeout."
"I don't want to!"
"Do I need to count to three?" When she doesn't move, I start counting. "One...two…"
"You better get going." Nan softly advises her.
Just as I'm about to hit three, Birdie gets off her chair and disappears into the living room.
Nan leans a ways to see that she's actually sat on her timeout stool, before going back to eating. I peer across the table again, meeting eyes with him again, but not caring enough to not go back to my sandwich. I can see his head turn towards Nan and Nan's head slightly glance because of it.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
"It's not me you owe a sorry to."
"I'm sorry, Mommy."
"It's alright, Pidge."
"I wanna eat my sandwich."
Nan pats the chair beside her. "Well, come on and eat."
Birdie pads back to the table, walking around the other side of the chair between it and Nan's chair. She lifts her hands up. "I wanna sit with you."
"It's kind of hard to do," Nan picks her up, "Can you even find my lap?"
Birdie pulls the other chair closer so that she can sit on her knees beside Nan. Nan puts her arm around her. "I don't want you to have a baby, Mommy."
"Well, I'm still gonna have a baby."
"When you gonna have it?"
"Oh, in about two months."
"A long time?"
"Mm, no."
Birdie looks over and smiles. "I'm three." She holds up her fingers.
"Three, huh?" Negan smiles. "Damn, that means you're practically all grown up and ready to move out."
"No!" Birdie cackles softly.
"You mean I don't get your room?"
"No, that's mine!"
"Shit, your folks are scamming me."
"Negan."
"Shoot." He corrects.
"Mommy, I don't wanna share my room with him."
"He's just joking."
I get up from the table abruptly, but not intentionally.
"Where you going?"
"To the garage," I tell Nan, "I've got some work I can do out there."
"You didn't finish your sandwich."
"I wasn't that hungry."
"Daddy, I wanna come, too."
"It's too hot out there for you," I say, "You stay with your mom."
"I don't like Mommy."
"Yes, you do." I kiss her head before I leave the kitchen.
"Dwight?"
I turn in the hall just before I go out.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm just not all that hungry."
Nan's eyes move across my face. "...Okay."
I turn back around and go out to the garage to smoke, as well as find something to do.
…
"You know something? Gardening's not too bad," I trim off some dead leaves, "I don't know why I ever fought Lu on it."
"Lucille wanted you to garden?"
I look up, just barely making her out through the open window. "Well, she asked me to water her plants when she'd go away."
Nan looks down at a book in her lap as she sits in an armchair by the window.
"Whatcha reading?"
"A baby book."
"What? Having one kid didn't teach you the ropes?"
"It's a book about at- home births," She clarifies teresely, "I borrowed it from Frankie."
"Frankie?" I look up again. "She had a kid?"
"She's going to," Nan replies, "She's due in October."
"Damn," I go back to my work, "Who's the father?"
"Keller."
"...Good lookin' guy," I say, "He was a hard worker."
"Mhm."
"Out of curiosity, what happened to the others?"
"Your other wives?"
"Yeah," I confirm as I pull some weeds, "I'd like to know what happened to 'em. They did keep company with me for a few years."
"You didn't care about them," Nan retorts mildy, but earnestly.
"And they didn't give a fuck about me," I chuckle, "But I'm still a nosy fucker."
"...I don't know that they'd like me telling you things about them."
"You already told me about Frankie."
"Yeah…"
"Oh, what am I gonna do?" I wipe sweat from my brow. "I've been locked up for three fucking years, I've got no knowledge of shit I couldn't make out from my cell window, or that Rick didn't come to brag about. I'm just trying to piece together how life got on without me."
Nan doesn't reply and after a while, I give up and pull more weeds in the hot sun.
"Amber's back with Mark."
I glance up at the window. "What was that?"
"Amber's back with Mark," Nan says again "They've been trying to have kids, too...but no luck."
"Those airheads are trying to breed?"
She turns her head with a disapproving look.
"...What happened to her mom?"
"She's been doing really well," Nan reports, "She teaches at The Kingdom."
"Huh."
"And Tonya works in building," She goes on, "And Danica is studying under Harlan, but I think she likes cutting hair more. And Hazel is always with Eugene, working on whatever he's working on."
"She working on him?"
"No," She huffs, "She just finds him interesting. Besides, I think he has feelings for someone else."
"Rosita."
"How do you know?
"Jude told me once about his little crush."
"Oh…you and her were close?"
"I helped her with her homework," I tell her, "Listened to her problems sometimes...answered questions no one else would."
"You think that was wise?"
"She's a smart kid," I pound the earth with my shovel, "Tough as shit, too. She could handle it."
"Hm."
"Yeah, that'll be what sucks ass the most once I get back," I exhale, "Aside from getting all my privileges taken away; I won't get to talk to her anymore."
"You weren't supposed to in the first place."
"Yeah, but she would sneak over with her homework," I say, "Now, they'll board up the window and throw away the key to the door."
She goes silent again and it feels heavier this time, but not because of her. It's because in the silence that I feel the weight of what I said. I can't help but think back to how I was before things got a little better and I don't like it.
I break my train of thought to water the small plants. "So, you thinking of having the baby in a kiddie pool?"
"No, but I thought it sounded interesting to read about," She says, "Frankie wants to give birth to her baby at home."
"Did you warn her it hurts?"
"We don't have epidurals anyway," She replies, "It's gonna hurt no matter where she's at. I'm sure the doctor will be there."
"If you could have an epidural, would you?"
"Yes," She answers without hesitation and it makes me chuckle, "I was in labor for twelve hours with Birdie. It was almost unbearable when it came time to push."
"If it hurts so damn bad, why have another?"
"I said almost," Nan sighs, "Almost unbearable. And that was only because I was under so much stress."
I wipe more sweat off my face. "Whatever happened to that gal Simon knocked up?"
"Marisol? She and Reed mov-"
"Reed?"
"Yeah, her and him got together a little after the twins turned a year old."
"Jesus, did everyone just start fucking each other after I left?"
"People started to rebuild," She tells me, "And you didn't leave."
"Yeah…" I take a ragged breath.
"Why do you ask?"
"If people are fucking?" I look at her.
"No," She dismisses, annoyed, "Why'd you ask about Marisol?"
"I don't know, just curious."
"...Does it still bother you?" She asks me. "The way he treated her?"
"Ah, I always knew Simon was a piece of shit."
"Then why did you make him your right hand man?"
"He could compel people to get shit done," I look at her through the window, "I almost killed him when I knew what he did to those men and boys, but…"
"But what?"
I shrug after a moment. "I thought I had him under control, or...could kill him if I didn't."
"You didn't,'' She says simply, "If you did, he wouldn't have killed the garbage people or conspired to kill you."
"Yeah, well, I made mistakes in judgement, didn't I?" I scoff. "He wasn't the only one conspiring."
Nan blinks, catching my drift. "I guess control was just an illusion for you then."
I scoff again, bitter as fuck.
She stares at me for a moment, before turning her head. "Hey, you. Did you wake up?"
"I have to go potty."
"Okay," Nan sets the book down and braces the arms of the chair, "Just give me a second to get up."
"Hey, I'm done with these plants," I call to her, "What else you want me to do?"
She looks at me and then at over at a clock in another room. "Come in after you put the tools away."
"You got it, boss." I say under my breath.
I pick up the little gardening tools and the watering can and carry them to the garage. My confindent feeling that Dwight will be in there, where he's been all fucking day, is checked when he turns out not to be in. I set the watering can down and drop the tools on a workstation.
As I walk towards the door to the house, I catch a glimpse of something way too familiar. Annoyingly familiar. It's that clunky fucking trunk that Nan used to pack around like she fucking owned it. Just to fucking clarfy; she didn't. It was in the quarters, so it belonged to me and I allowed whichever worker that was put there to use it to keep their shit stored. Why the fuck she thought she could just drag it around my fucking Sanctuary like she owned it is fucking beyond me. I hate that fucking trunk. I should have smashed the hell out of it that time she threw a vase at my head. It bugs the fuck out of me that she still fucking has it.
The door swings open. "Have you put the tools away?"
I look over at her standing expectantly in the doorway. "Yeah, I put the tools away."
Nan's eyes move from me. "That's not where they belong."
"Well, where the fuck do they belong?"
"Over there," She motions with a nod, "There's prongs on the wall they hang from."
I stick my tongue in my cheek. "Alright, I'll put 'em on the wall."
"Okay." She stands there with her hand propping the door open.
"What are you gonna watch me?"
She waits without an answer.
I sigh heavily, picking up the tools and walking them over to the side wall. I don't know why the hell I'm so pissy about it. Maybe thinking about the trunk got my panties in a twist. That, or what she said before that.
After I hang 'em all up, I look at her, raising my brows and smiling for approval.
She doesn't play into my smartass gesture. "You can come in."
"Thanks for the permission." I go to the door.
She turns just as I'm close enough to hold the door for myself.
"Mind if I shower?"
"Go ahead." She says without looking behind.
"Got anything I can fit into?"
She pauses, looking back.
"These clothes are smelling a little ripe."
She considers it for a moment. "I'll see what I can find."
I step into the bathroom across the hall. I pull off my sweaty, dirty clothes and get in the shower. I knock over some bath toys that I have to gather up, which isn't a chore, except I fucking ache all over from being worked like a mule all fucking day. I know, it's a fuck ton better than being locked up somewhere and they're giving me an opporutnity to work while I'm here, which is more than Rick allowed after three years. Doesn't mean I can't complain a little. Hell, I don't know if its an opportunity for me, or a chance for them to exploit free labor out of me, but I won't get into it with them, because it'll backfire in my face real fucking quick.
The water comes out cold which I don't mind and transitions into a nice hot flow. Man, it feels good to have hot water on my skin. The water back at Alexandria is never this fucking hot.I cup my hands and drink from it until my thrist is quenched.
I pick up the bar of soap and wash myself vigorously. I wonder how long I can stand in here until the water turns cold again.
I look around for shampoo, but don't see any. I know they gotta wash Birdie's hair with something. After searching for a hot minute, I guess they must have transferred the shampoo to their bathroom, so I use the soap. My head's shaved, so I guess it'll be fine.
I finally decide to get out when the hot water starts to fade. I grab the towel and wrap it around my waist before pulling back the curtain. I knock over the bath toys again and pick 'em up.
I wipe the steam from the mirror, trying to get a look at myself before it casts over again. It's the first shower that I've had since I left Alexandria. The river baths don't count; I was only washing my face and my pits then.
I didn't expect to look any different than the last time I saw my reflection, but I can't help but smile when my eyes meet themselves in the mirror. Not about how I look, despite having a face you could sit on. It's about recognizing where I'm at and who I'm with. My smiles waned as easily as it waxed; for the same reason.
"Negan?" There's a light knock at the door.
I look at it. "What?"
"I heard the water turn off," Nan says outside the door, "I found you some clothes that might fit."
I open the door to her holding a stack of folded clothes. Our eyes meet immediately, but her eyes blink downward.
"That's Birdie's towel."
"It was the only one in here," I tell her, smirking, "I can hand it to you, if you'd prefer I don't use it."
She makes eye contact with me and extends the clothes to me. "Here. These didn't fit Dwight, but they might fit you."
"Hope there's some underwear tucked in somewhere," I take them from her, "'Cause the pair I've been wearing probably smell like sweaty balls."
Nan sighs through her nose. "Just get dressed."
"Mommy!"
She quickly turns down the hall. "I'm coming!"
The sound of smaller footsteps stop abruptly.
"Let's go back to watching our movie, okay?"
I shut the door and inspect the clothes I was given. A pair of pants that look like they'll fit, a plain gray shirt, and an over shirt. There is in fact also a pair of undies that I have to assume are a pair of D's. It's a little weird, I'll admit, but I bet it'll be more weird for him than it is for me, which tickles me. Gotta love the smell of fresh clothes and undies.
I leave the bathroom and follow the sound to the living room. Nan and Birdie are there and the same movie that was playing yesterday is playing again. Birdie watches attentively on the floor, while Nan sits on the couch, looking like she's trying to get her eyes open.
I clear my throat to get her attention. "May I have some water?"
Her brows gather a little over her tired eyes. "Yes."
I grin a little when she doesn't make the effort to move. "Oh, no, don't you get up now. I'll get it myself."
She doesn't reply, probably too tired to.
I bring the glass of water I got for myself into the living room to sit. The armchair's got some toys on it, so I clear 'em off with one swipe.
"Hey!" Birdie's brows furrow angrily. She gets up from the floor and marches over. "You can't do that!"
"Why the…" My eyes briefly look to Nan, "Why not?"
"Because!" She makes this cute little scowl.
"Well, sor-ry, jeez," I reach down to pick up the nearest block, "I'll pick 'em up and put them on this table, how about that?"
I set the horse-shaped block on the coffee table as I sit down in the arm chair. Birdie pushes the block off the table immediately.
"No!"
"Birdie." Nan scolds.
"Move!" Birdie fiercely insists.
"Birdie, be nice."
"Mommy, make him move."
"No, he can sit there, Bird," Nan tells her, "You need to put your toys away."
Birdie doesn't budge or quit her scowling at me.
"Right now," Nan says more sternly, "Come on, I'll help you."
"No!" She pouts, before padding off out of the room.
I watch over my shoulder as she runs down the hall. "Fiery little thing."
"Stubborn's more like it." Nan scoots herself across the couch. She attempts to reach the blocks on the floor from where she's sitting.
"I got it," I lean down and pick them up, "I didn't piss her off too bad, did I?"
"No, she'll be back," Nan sighs, getting into a little basket tucked within the side table, "She just likes to be a little dramatic sometimes."
I smirk a little. "Were you dramatic like that when you were her age?"
Nan huffs, a little humored as she starts to knit. Her brows sharpen somewhat more as she stares down, fiddling with the yarn and needle. "No, but my mom always said I was...I hated it when she'd say that." Her eyes faintly glance up towards me, bothered. "I guess, I shouldn't pass it on."
I shrug my shoulders. "You didn't mean anything by it."
Nan begins what looks like knitting, reserved.
I look at my clasped hands. "Hell, don't bum yourself out over it; it's way nicer than anything my mom would've called me."
She breathes through her nose, concentrating on her hand work.
I take a peek from where I'm sitting into the kitchen and then back down the hall. "Where's your other half at? Haven't seen him in a hot minute."
"He's around I'm sure."
"You're sure?" I look at her. "What as in you're not sure, but you think he's here?"
"He's here," She gives me a quick look, "He's just probably working on something outside."
"He wasn't out in the garage."
I see her nostrils flare as she breathes out, but she remains aloof as she knits. I peer at her hands. "Whatcha knittin'?"
"Booties," She says, "For the baby."
"Your baby will be born in summer, you sure a pair of wool booties is the way to go?"
"It's a thinner yarn," She tells me, "More breathable. Besides, its more or less just something you do when you have a baby."
"Huh," I glance back down at the cream-coloured yarn, "You still have Birdie's?"
"Of course, I do," She looks over, a little insulted, "I have them tucked away. Except for the blanket, because Birdie still uses it."
I nod my head, glancing over at the television. "You ever watch anything else?"
"When she goes to bed."
I nod again, looking back at my hands. The ringing in my ears starts out of the blue and so I close my eyes to try to bide through it. I pinch between my eyes when it worsens.
"Is everything alright?"
"Yeah…" I exhale through the noise. "It's just my head."
"It still hurts?"
"Yeah, tinnitus," I open my eyes to look at her, "The doctor said I might have it for the rest of my days."
Her brows appear concerned, before she glances back down. "Has it affected your memory?"
"Nah," I shake my aching head, "I thought so at first, but my mind's a steel trap."
"...You said a while back you couldn't remember," her eyes pick up and meet mine, "Certain things."
My eyes scan hers. "You mean…" I tilt my towards the hall and she nods. I swallow, again looking at my hands. "I don't remember what she looked like."
She stares.
"But then again I only had five days with her," I add with a sigh, "And a picture, which isn't a memory. At least not my own."
Nan nods silently, looking down.
"Guess that's my own fault, right?"
Her eyes peer up and her brows furrow slightly.
"Mommy!" Birdie comes bolting into the living room. She crashes herself up onto the couch. "Mommy, where's Daddy?"
"I don't know, I think he's working," Nan tells her, "Why?"
"I want him to read." She shows her mother a small book in her hand.
"Oh, well, you'll have to ask him when he's done working."
"I want him to read this." Birdie quietly pouts.
"I can read it, if you want me to." She offers, setting aside the knitting.
"Mm, let me think about it," Birdie puts her finger to her chin, kind of smart alecky, "Okay."
"Okay." Nan takes the book from her and opens it up.
Birdie settles on the couch close to Nan, leaning her head on Nan's arm.
"If you give a pig a pancake, she'll want syrup to go with it." Nan begins to read with a light, gentle voice.
Birdie looks at the pictures, calmly focused. She slowly raises her leg and her socked foot finds its way to Nan's round belly, where it then caresses the bump.
"You'll give her some of your favorite maple syrup," Nan reads on, "She'll probably get all sticky."
The front door opens behind me and Nan's eyes glance over before Dwight enters the room. When he does, she looks at him, before going back to the book, but not without a subtle expression that she can't hide.
"So, she'll want to take a bath…"
"Daddy, come sit." Birdie pats the seat next to her.
"In a minute." He goes down the hall.
Birdie's eyes fall on me and she immediately scowls and snottily looks away, turning her nose up. What a pistol. She gets the scowl from me.
…
The toilet flushes behind me and fills my ears with the rushing whoosh!
"Done?"
"Yeah," Birdie tells me, "You can look now."
I turn around to her carefully getting off the toilet on her own. "Alright, wash your hands and brush your teeth."
Birdie gets up on her step stool and waits for me to turn the water on. "Mommy?"
"Mm?"
"I don't want to share my room with Negan."
I look at her reflection in the mirror. "You don't?"
"No." She washes her hands.
"Well, you don't have to," I blandly sigh, "Besides, you're not even sleeping in there anyway...and neither is Negan."
"I wanna sleep in my room."
"Not right now, baby."
"Why?"
"Because your dad and I want you to sleep here."
"Why?"
"Because you snore and we don't you to wake up Negan." I smile when she cackles.
"I don't snore!" She points at my reflection. "You snore!"
"You would, too, if you had twenty extra pounds laying on top of you," I shut the faucet off, "Alright, let's go lie down."
"Mommy, when's Negan leaving?"
"Soon," I tell her as I tuck her in on my side of the bed, "And Birdie, you can't be rude to people we have over, just because you don't want them to stay with us."
I realize that sounds strange, given the certain guest, but I suppose I can't justly make an exception.
"But I like to."
"Well, it's not nice," I brush her hair out her eyes, "You need to practice being kinder, okay?"
"Mm, no, I don't want to."
"Oh, please, won't you?" I plead in a soft, playful voice. "For me?"
"No."
"Oh, you put daggers in my heart, kid." I peck her forehead. "Are you gonna be a nice big sister when the baby comes?"
"No."
I exhale through my nose. "I think you will once you see that having a baby around isn't so bad."
She smiles lightly. "No."
Her repetition is soft, which means she's growing more and more tired. I lean down and kiss her forehead again. I then look at her for a good, long moment. Her eyes have a warm light in them when she smiles, even when she's sleepy. It's a familiar brightness, a friendliness.
"Read, Mommy."
I breath in, looking off as I reach for the book. "Alright, I'll read."
She falls asleep about halfway through, but I always finish the story to the end. I carefully get up and change into my pajamas, which right now is a light night gown that would normally end a little past the knees, but ends two inches above them since my belly takes up room. I'm glad it fits that way because I was beginning to feel matronly in it, despite being lower cut and with thin straps.
Dwight hasn't come back from the perimeter check yet, which he began about twenty minutes ago. I put on some socks and one of his flannels to take Birdie's book back to her room and to maybe get a glass of water.
I see the blue glow of the television coming from the living room as I go into place the book back on the book rack. The noise, which is faint, becomes somewhat more audible as I'm on the edge of the room. I find Negan laying on the couch with his arm draped behind him and his head turned towards It Happened One Night.
He notices me shortly, casually blinking his eyes to me. "Boy, don't you look lovely?"
I scoff, padding to the kitchen.
"What? I meant it."
"I look like I'm wearing a tablecloth." I murmur as I get some water. I pause in the archway, looking at him in the living room in between. "Comfortable?"
"No, your fucking couch isn't made for sleeping on," He smirks a little, light bounces off his face, "But it beats the cell, so I'll shut up."
The front door opens, not suddenly, although it still startles me. Dwight enters the kitchen, prompting me to turn around. He goes to the sink, flipping on the water and washing his hands.
I stand there, holding my glass to me as I observe. "How was it?"
He turns his head, apparently not knowing that I was there. "It was fine," He scrubs his hands, "You're still up?"
"I was waiting for you to come home."
"Oh…" He shuts off the sink and dries his hands, "Well, I'm home."
"You going to bed?"
"Yeah, I'm coming."
I nod my head, turning to see Negan staring. I don't know why it bothers me, it's not rude or mocking. It's almost a question, as in could we keep our voices down?
I eye Dwight going down the hall and follow without another word to Negan. He waits for me by the door, so he can close it and lock it. After that, he breezes past me to the bathroom, where more running water hits my ears. I go in, leaning my back against the wall.
"What's the matter?" He mumbles as he brushes his teeth.
I shake my head. "Nothing."
Dwight bends to spit and rinse and then unbends. "I know you better than that."
I puzzle my brows.
"We've been together for three years, you think I can't tell when something's up?" His reflected eyes look at me, almost scoldingly.
My eyes flicker downward at nothing as my mind searches for something to say. "I'm just...I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation."
He looks me over and nods subtly.
"But I guess I'm not doing a good job at it, if I still feel at fault for all this."
"At fault?" He shifts around. "How is this your fault?"
I meet his eyes with my contrite pair, near the point of tears. "He knew where to find us because of me."
The bewilderment on Dwight's brows lets up with understanding.
I start to shake my head. "D, I...I don't even remember telling him we lived by the river. It must have slipped out that day we brought Rick back and I went to see him, I…" I look at him. "I would have never told him where we lived on purpose. I never wanted this to happen, for him to be so close to her, I-"
"It's okay." He says as my tears begin to blur his image.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
Dwight licks his lips as he sighs through his nose. "That river leads to a lot of places. He could have wound up in West Virginia, or Maryland."
"But he didn't," I say, regretfully, "He wound up here. He found us."
"By sheer luck," He shrugs, "You might have accidentally told him we lived near a river, but there's no way he knew exactly where to follow the river. It was just luck." His eyes trail off. "Bad luck on our end."
"...Are you mad at me?"
"No," He shakes his head, "I'm not. It is what it is. He'll be back in his cell before we know it."
I smile, slightly forced as I wipe the tears away.
"Don't cry, honey, it's okay," He touches my arm, "Really. I'm not mad."
I put my arms around him and shut my eyes to his warm embrace. He kisses the top of my head and then my lips when I look up. I stare up at him, feeling a small inclination. Apparently, he feels the same thing, because his hand slides under the flannel I'm wearing to gently brush it off my shoulders.
We kiss again, passionately. He removes the other side and I let the flannel drop to the ground as our lips remain locked. I feel my head touch the wall, before we step in unison to trade sides. Dwight helps me up on the counter, touching my warm legs under my gown. I put my arms around him, feeling the desire in each kiss.
But, something gets swept in as I amorously inhale through my nose. A faint, but ashy odor that I think I recognize. I open my eyes right as I'm sure I know the smell. I begin to pull myself from the romantic tethering.
"What's wrong?"
I look at Dwight with furrowed brows. "I smell smoke."
His brows also furrow. "I don't smell anything."
"No, not like fire, like cigarette smoke, D," My eyes scan his face, "Have you been smoking?"
He looks at me, lips parting in what I can only assume is about to be an explanation.
I scoff, pissed. "I thought you quit."
"I did."
"Well, then why do I smell cigarettes?" I question. "And don't tell me it's your clothes, because I got rid of the smell of long ago."
He scratches his head. "I, uh, found some cigarettes the other day when I went into Barton."
I can't help scoff again. "What so you took them and started smoking again? You haven't smoked in months, D, why would you start up again?"
"Look, I'll stop as soon as I-"
"As soon as you what?" I ask sternly. "As soon as you finish them? I've heard that one before; you save the ones you put out to make them last longer."
"Nan, I-"
"I'm pregnant, Dwight," I nearly shout, "I can't breathe that in and I don't want Birdie to, either."
"Honey, relax," He tells me, which only makes me angry, " I'll stop, okay?"
"You keep telling me that, but here I am smelling cigarettes again," I go to roll my eyes, but I suddenly get a thought, "Wait, is that where you've been all day?"
"I was out working," He replies, "I went down to the barrier to see the damage."
"And so you could smoke," I hop off the counter, "That's why you were out in the garage most of the day."
"I was getting things prepared, so we could fix the barrier tomorrow."
"How many packs?"
He follows me to the bedroom. "What?"
"How many packs did you find?" I cross my arms. "I want to know."
Dwight's stares, before he looks off.
"Don't lie to me."
His eyes fix back on mine, accused. "I wasn't gonna lie to you."
"You know, I know you pretty well myself and I can't tell when you're about to lie."
Dwight scoffs. "I'll get rid of them."
I huff, not convinced.
"I don't know what else you want to say," He walks to the dresser, "I'll get rid of them."
I stare at the bed, making sure Birdie's undisturbed. "Why didn't you just leave them in Barton to begin with?"
"Because I wanted to smoke them," He says, "There. Happy? I didn't lie to you."
"Why did you want to smoke them?" I rudely ask.
"Because I need to take the edge off."
I look over at him. "The edge off?"
"Yeah," He looks back at me, "Given the shit that's happened, I don't think it's farfetched to say I'm a little on edge right now."
"You said-"
"I know what I said, but it doesn't stop me from being stressed out about Negan being here, sleeping under the same roof as us and our daughter."
I bring my lips to a close, feeling blame again. "You're upset that I suggested he work until he goes back to Alexandria."
"If it were up to me, he'd be tied up in the garage until he goes back," Dwight says, "I don't trust him and I don't know why you do."
"I don't," I shrug, ruffled, "But I know him well enough to know he wouldn't do anything stupid."
Dwight glances down into his drawer. "Yeah, well enough to remember how to make his sandwiches."
That hits me unexpectedly. I stare in blindisided hurt.
Dwight pauses before looking my way. "Nan, I-"
"I'm going to bed." I swiftly say, turning toward the bed.
"Nan, I didn't...I didn't mean-"
"Goodnight."
Thanks for reading!
