Chicken and Waffles and My Jaded Brother
Beth didn't have a chance to talk to Daryl or Merle before climbing into the truck with her father and driving away from the church. And there was no point in texting Daryl because she could see him mounting his motorcycle and starting it up, and then he was following them out onto the road and trailing behind them loudly.
Hershel informed the rest of the family that Daryl would be joining them at the diner, which they'd pretty much already figured out once they saw him following the Explorer. As expected, the news was met with a mixture of reactions: Maggie grinned and flashed Beth a look, Glenn clapped and said "right on, that's awesome," and Shawn just scoffed and rolled his eyes.
Beth sunk down into her seat and tried to disappear, turning towards the window to hide the blush in her cheeks. All she could do was pray that this lunch didn't turn awkward or uncomfortable. And that Merle's inevitable comments would be easy to ignore.
She hadn't even entertained the idea of Daryl sitting down for a meal with her family, though. Not this soon. A dead guy buzzing in her ear was one thing, but she was in no way prepared for how her siblings might act towards the very alive Dixon brother. She wasn't sure that her father would be able to keep the peace. Maybe Shawn would be on his best behavior considering they'd just left church and they were in public. But even that might be hoping for a lot.
Here's to hoping, she thought.
Maggie and Glenn were discussing something related to the horses with Shawn and Hershel while Beth stared out the window and watched Senoia pass by. She could see Daryl in the side mirror, trailing behind on his bike with the wind whipping through his hair. Lightning cracked across the sky above, followed by low rumbles of thunder. The dark clouds had grown thicker and dimmed the sun. It was just a matter of time until the rain began to fall.
They were stopped at the red light on Main Street—a particularly long one—when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She quickly pulled it out to find a text from Daryl.
Gonna see Carol, she works at Jerry's
Beth texted back as fast as she could, trying to beat the light as she tapped Send, "Since when?"
She'd been going to that diner after church for nearly her entire life, even before the previous owner died and it was sold and became Jerry's Diner. And she had yet to see Carol working there. She would've recognized the other woman.
Just as the light turned green and the truck started to move again—and the motorcycle behind them rumbled louder—her phone vibrated with another text message from Daryl.
Few months. Got switched to morning shift last week. Just giving you a heads up.
Beth wasn't sure what she should do with this information. Was it good or bad? Would Carol's presence help to ease the tension, or would it just add fuel to the flames? When it came to both Merle and Shawn, she couldn't decide on an answer. She genuinely had no idea.
Once again, she thought. Here's to hoping.
Her life couldn't really get any more difficult at this point… right?
The building that Jerry's Diner occupied was built back in the 50s, and it had always been meant for a diner, so it was designed to reflect such. It must've been some sort of unwritten rule that anyone who bought the place and took it over had to keep the aesthetic, because even after half a century, it still looked like a Norman Rockwell painting. The idyllic, picturesque 50s diner, smack-dab in the middle of the southern United States, brimming to the rafters with nostalgic charm and historic character. It had been renovated time and time again, but only to preserve the original appearance. Even the sign hanging above the glass door and giant plate-glass windows looked like it belonged in a black-and-white movie: curly, neon-lit red letters that spelled out Jerry's Diner.
Jerry, as it turned out, had actually moved from the big city of Washington, D.C. to tiny Senoia about a decade ago. He was a large, tan-skinned, husky man of Samoan descent with a head full of wavy black hair, a thick black beard, and a heart of gold, as well as a smile that could light up any room he stepped foot into. Ever since he bought the old diner and turned it into his own, he'd become somewhat famous around Senoia for his raspberry cobbler—and his glowing personality. He was also notorious for refusing to give away the secret recipe for his cobbler, no matter how much all the old ladies in town begged him for it. In recent years, people had begun travelling from all around Georgia to try his diner's food. He took great pride in his small-town business, and he genuinely cared about every person who stepped foot inside his establishment, and it was noticeable. He was the kind of owner who acquainted himself with every person in town, learned their names, all their kids' names, their favorite hobbies, what street they lived on, what church they went to, and so on. The kind of owner who spent most of his time back in the kitchen, if he wasn't out on the floor talking and laughing with customers.
The entire interior of the diner was visible from the curbside: a tile floor establishment filled with vinyl booths, bright pink walls decorated with an assortment of photographs and paintings and other pieces of art, and a bar off to the left of the front door that was lined with vinyl-covered barstools. The menu was displayed on a large letterboard hanging over the door to the kitchen. The whole place was decorated for Halloween, of course. As it had been since the last week of September. Plastic pumpkins atop surfaces, paper bats and cut-out witches dangling from the ceiling, and a couple dozen black cat and dancing skeleton decals plastered to the windows. Beth knew there was also a shrieking candy bowl sitting atop the bar, because she'd been caught off-guard by the old gag last Sunday when she'd reached in for a complimentary Fun Size Twix.
Shawn parked in one of the street-side parking spots right down the sidewalk, and Daryl parked his bike in the spot to their right. Every spot directly in front of the diner was occupied by a vehicle, which was typical for lunch time on a Sunday. Through the plate-glass windows, it looked like nearly all the booths were filled with patrons, as well as most of the barstools.
The Greene family exited their Ford Explorer and headed for the front door of the diner, with Maggie, Glenn, Shawn, and Hershel all too wrapped up in their current conversation to take pause or give Daryl a proper greeting. The living Dixon silenced the engine of his motorcycle and followed after them. Beth hung back to wait for him, just a couple of steps behind her slow-paced father.
But before she had a chance to say anything to Daryl, Merle appeared at her side. Talking. As usual.
"Lunch date, huh? That's cute," he commented snidely. "Ain't even known each other a week an' yer already makin' him sit down fer a meal with the whole fuckin' family? It's ballsy, I'll give ya that. This what'cha meant by havin' ovaries, blondie?" He cackled at his own poor joke.
She wasted her few seconds of opportunity to speak to Daryl by looking over and glaring at Merle. And then they were entering the diner, walking straight into a cloud of strangers' conversations and noise.
The whole place was bustling with early afternoon energy. There were other families sitting down, dressed in their church clothes, and a good number of regular customers who frequented the same spots day in and day out. A pair of waitresses were racing around, darting between tables and carrying armfuls of plates and trays of drinks, barely more than a blur as they walked by. Beth spotted Carol when she stopped and began tending to a booth full of customers at the other side of the room. The older woman was too busy to even notice their arrival.
They found an open half-circle booth near the front door that could seat all six of them. Although once Daryl realized how tightly they'd be squeezing in together, in a booth meant for five people, he chose to pull up a spare chair from a nearby table and sit at the end of the booth. He scooted the chair a little closer towards Beth, as compared to being closer to Shawn on the other side. Glenn and Maggie sat tight together in the vinyl booth beside Shawn, with Hershel on their other side and Beth beside him, occupying the end spot across the table from Shawn.
Barely a moment after they got settled in, Carol appeared with an armful of menus and a polite smile plastered on her face. Her eyes lit up and her smile turned from polite to quietly intrigued as she took in the group before her.
"Well this is a new one," she commented, handing out seven menus. "How are y'all doing today? Is my roommate minding his manners?"
Hershel's eyes flicked from Carol to Daryl and back again, recognition sparking in his eyes. "Oh—Daryl here is your roommate?" He grinned and looked at Daryl. "Why didn't ya say somethin', son?"
Daryl shrugged awkwardly, the tips of his ears turning pink. "Slipped my mind." He turned to Carol and gestured towards the Greene family as he said, "Carol, this is Beth's family. We just got outta church."
Carol's eyes went wide and she repeated, "Church? You attended the service?"
He rolled his eyes and looked down at the menu before him, muttering, "Don't sound so surprised."
"We invited him," Beth chimed in, smiling at Carol. "And lunch is part of the experience—I didn't know you worked here, though."
"You two have already met?" Hershel asked, glancing from Beth to Carol.
"Yeah, she stopped by recently for a little visit," Carol said. "You've raised a lovely young lady here, Hershel."
"Two, actually. Thank you," he beamed, gesturing towards Maggie. "This is my oldest, Maggie. Remember I was tellin' you she was gonna come down for the weekend? Turns out she just got engaged!"
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Carol exclaimed, turning to Maggie. "Congratulations, Maggie. I'm Carol, it's nice to meet you."
Maggie thanked her and went through the routine of flashing her shiny new ring for inspection. They spent a few moments going through the polite introductions. Hershel beamed proudly as he introduced Glenn, and it seemed Carol had already become acquainted with Shawn. Beth wasn't surprised, because her dad and brother often made afternoon trips into town together during the week, and they usually stopped somewhere for lunch. Hershel was definitely a man of habit, so it only made sense that he would be a familiar face inside Jerry's Diner. It was a little odd for Beth to think that her dad had already known Daryl's roommate and somehow, she'd never run into her before this week. But that's a small town for you, she figured.
Daryl hunched over his menu and made his best attempt at becoming invisible while Hershel, Maggie, Shawn, Glenn, and Carol briefly chatted. He seemed relieved when she finally took their drink orders and hurried away. When he lifted his head and glanced around, Beth made sure to have a reassuring smile on her face when his eyes met hers. He relaxed a bit and gave her a tiny shrug, like he was silently apologizing for Carol working here. But Beth just shook her head and kept smiling.
It was probably a good thing that Hershel already knew Carol, because he was a talker, so being familiar with the waitress at the diner most likely meant that he knew she had a preteen daughter and an abusive ex-husband. And if she was roommates with Daryl, then that could only mean good character marks on his part.
Not that Hershel seemed to have many doubts about Daryl's character. It was Shawn that Beth was worried about. He'd always been very stubborn, and he didn't like changing his opinion, even when he was proven wrong.
She feared her brother would refuse to see Daryl as anything more than a degenerate, just because of the Dixon name. And based on the way he'd been side-eyeing Daryl ever since they sat down, she was right.
She'd gotten lucky with her father, who never liked to make assumptions based on reputation anyway, and Maggie, who was skeptical but quickly came around once she heard the whole story. But Beth couldn't tell Shawn all of those things. She couldn't explain how she knew that the last living Dixon was a good person through-and-through. Just like she couldn't force Shawn to approve of her new friend.
What would it take to convince him that Daryl was different?
Merle appeared in the empty booth behind Beth right after Carol took their orders and retrieved all the menus. He knew Beth wouldn't even dare to acknowledge his presence in the current setting, and she was pretty sure he liked it that way. He could talk without the fear of being interrupted or shut down.
"This place fuckin' sucks," he remarked, leaning over the back of the booth and talking loudly right behind her head. "I used ta come here all the time, ya know. Used ta have the best steaks in town. Till that city slicker shithead took over. The fat fuck eighty-sixed me last year fer no damn reason—stupid prick. I oughta bust some shit up while I'm in here, just ta spite 'im."
Please don't, Beth thought. Though she didn't even turn around. She tried to stay focused on the conversation at the table, while also taking note of the way Daryl hunched in his seat and sipped his coffee in complete silence.
He was obviously uncomfortable, and she wished she could apologize. But for what? She couldn't help it that her dad was a friendly and welcoming guy. A part of her wished that Daryl would just get over it. Shed his skin. Break out of his shell. Make an effort and join in on the conversation instead of acting like he was some sort of outsider.
But maybe he could feel the way Shawn kept glancing at him, and maybe that was discouraging. She could only imagine. She had a strong urge to reach over and smack her brother upside his head, but even that wouldn't make much of a difference. Daryl was observant, and unfortunately, he was observing the way Shawn acted like a Dixon didn't belong here with their family.
If only you knew there's been a Dixon in our house for the last week, Beth thought. Why can't you just give people a chance once in a while?
Conversation at the table revolved around Maggie's upcoming wedding, as usual. There was a lot to plan, after all. They were only just getting started. Carol eventually arrived with their food, making three separate trips from the kitchen to bring all the plates and side dishes. Then she made some more pleasant small talk while refilling coffee mugs and tea glasses before she rushed off again to tend to another table. Merle got bored and disappeared—he probably enjoyed the reactions he got from Beth, and with no reactions to be had, he seemed deflated. But she could see him reappearing just outside the front door. He leaned against the plate-glass window and smoked a cigarette, occasionally glancing back inside with a scowl on his face.
Jealousy? That his baby brother was sitting down and having a nice post-church lunch like a normal human being? Or resentment? Because Beth was audacious enough to welcome Daryl into her family's Sunday ritual?
More likely, she surmised, he was mad that they were spending their time doing something besides tracking down his murderer. And, well… he'd just have to suck it up.
About halfway through the meal, the conversation somehow drifted away from the wedding and towards operations on the farm. Beth was only half-listening, too preoccupied with stealing glances at Daryl and trying to interpret his body language. She was also trying to gauge everyone else's tone of voice, keeping an eye out for odd looks, particularly from her dad. But the only person who seemed less than pleased with Daryl's presence, or his current silence, was Shawn. Beth was pretty sure that if a stranger were to assess the sight of their table right now, they would assume Daryl was the black sheep child of the family—a little out-of-place, a little quiet, yet fitting in just the same.
Beth didn't expect him to join in on the conversation around Maggie and Glenn's engagement, and she definitely didn't expect him to speak up when the subject switched to farm operations. Yet he surprised her.
"—I dunno, I think things are lookin' alright fer how late in the season it is," Shawn was saying in between bites of his bloody T-Bone steak and cheesy eggs. "Wouldn't say no to some more help with winterizing, but we're a helluva lot better off than we were this time last year."
Hershel hummed in agreement as he took a sip of coffee. He set the mug down gingerly and said, "Did you manage to finish those hay bales up yet? We prob'ly oughta stock up a little more than last year, seein' how that turned out. I'm not sure the Morrisons will be so willing to help us out again."
That was when Shawn jerked his chin in Beth's direction, still speaking to their father, and said, "Beth said she'd help me finish 'em up this afternoon."
"Wish I could help y'all," Maggie chimed in as she cut up a piece of waffle on her plate. "But me an' Glenn gotta pack up an' start heading out in a few hours. I still have some stuff to read over and a few emails to answer once I get home, then I gotta be at the office by six tomorrow morning."
"That's alright, you need to get home and get some rest," Hershel assured before turning his head to set his gaze on Beth. "You think you can handle all those bales, Doodlebug?"
Beth sat up a little straighter and raised her eyebrows, about to respond, but before she had a chance, her dad added, "Tell ya what, I'll jump in an' help. Maybe we can get it done by sundown."
"No, Daddy, you don't need to be throwin' no bales," Beth said. "Me an' Shawn can handle it. I'll be fine."
"You two will be out there all night," Hershel teased light-heartedly. "Wouldn't hurt to get myself a little exercise anyhow."
"I don't think you need that kinda exercise, Dad," Maggie said.
Shawn agreed, "It wouldn't be exercise, it'd be unnecessary strain. Remember what the doctor said? We can handle it, Dad. Even if it takes us all night."
Hershel shook his head, clearly displeased as he looked from his son to his youngest daughter. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was abruptly cut off.
To Beth's surprise, it was Daryl that was cutting him off.
"I'll help," he said simply, still chewing a bite of his fried chicken. He glanced up from his plate barely long enough to make brief eye contact with Hershel and Shawn. "I mean, ain't got nothin' better ta do after this. Don't gotta work till tomorrow. Reckon I could save y'all some time."
"Don't be silly," Hershel immediately argued. "Our farm isn't your responsibility, Daryl. We'll get it worked out."
"'S all good," Daryl grumbled, refusing to lift his eyes away from his plate this time. "I'm offerin'. Lemme help out."
Beth would've been ecstatic about this conversation, had it not been for the look on her brother's face from across the table. The way he was narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Daryl, as if he thought there were some ulterior motive behind the offer. Was it really so hard for him to believe that Daryl genuinely wanted to help just for the sake of being nice?
Although she'd never expected—or wanted—him to offer physical labor for any reason. She agreed with Shawn on that much: the farm was their responsibility. Not Daryl's.
She reached over and lightly touched his arm, "Daryl, that's really nice, but you don't have to—"
"You ever done farm work before?" Shawn interjected. He was looking at Daryl with a scrutinizing glare.
Daryl shrugged and lifted his eyes to meet Shawn's, seemingly unfazed as he loosely held the fork over his plate. "Yeah. A few times. Took some odd jobs here an' there over the years. Throwin' bales, winterizing crops, feedin' livestock, muckin' out stalls."
That wasn't the response Shawn had been expecting. His face dropped and his expression mollified. "Huh. Didn't think you knew more'an tires an' mechanics."
Daryl shrugged again. Nonchalant. "Ain't claimin' to be an expert. But I'm no stranger to physical labor."
Maggie cut in through the budding tension. "Lucky for us, it doesn't take expertise. Otherwise, Shawn here woulda been screwed a long time ago."
They all shared a laugh at that—except Shawn, of course. Daryl merely smirked. Nonetheless, it lightened the mood.
"I think that's awful kind of you, Daryl," Hershel said matter-of-factly. He seemed almost ignorant to the tension between Shawn and Daryl, though Beth knew he wasn't. He was well aware, he was just choosing to sit back and observe how his son would act. If things escalated, he would step in. But he'd become a lot more passive in all things social over the last few years.
Beth couldn't even say she blamed him. It became exhausting to try and reel Shawn in every single time he got a stick up his ass.
Sometimes, you just had to accept that a person was a little more jaded than they should be, and that that's who they were. And you had to keep loving them anyway. Because that's what unconditional love meant. Her brother might be kind of a dick sometimes, especially when he was stressed out, but he was good at heart, and he had good intentions. That's all that mattered.
"You're a real stand-up dude," Glenn agreed whole-heartedly, flashing a bright smile in Daryl's direction. "Maybe you can make it to me an' Maggie's wedding? If you're still hanging around by then, I mean."
The tips of Daryl's ears went pink and Beth didn't think anyone else noticed but her. He shrugged bashfully and went back to hunching over his plate, pushing the remnants of his meal around with the fork. "Maybe. Thanks for the invite, I 'preciate it," he mumbled awkwardly.
"I still don't think your help is really necessary, though," Hershel said, dodging his future son-in-law's attempt at changing the subject. "I've never liked not payin' somebody for honest work, and I'm afraid we can't really afford to reimburse you if you chipped in. Even for one afternoon."
Shawn sighed. "We're not that bad off, Dad. We could give him somethin'. It's not like we gotta file another tax form fer a few hours of throwin' bales."
Hershel sipped his coffee, preparing to respond. But Daryl beat him to it.
The last living Dixon lifted his head and looked from Shawn to Hershel. "Actually, if y'all need some extra hands, I got some guys lookin' fer work. Beth was tellin' me 'bout how yer best hand is gonna be outta town with his wife for the next month or two. I know money's tight, but these guys would be happy with whatever you can spare. An' if you pay 'em under the table, ya ain't gotta worry about none'a the tax nonsense." Then he paused, giving Shawn an uncertain glance before settling the same look on Hershel. He lowered his voice, "I mean, they jus' got outta the pen a year or two back, so they can't find work nowhere else. Small town, bad records, not a lotta job opportunities. But I could give ya my word they're decent guys. Hard workers. They mind their own business nowadays, they're just try'na make a living an' stay outta trouble."
"That's a nice offer," Shawn said, tone laced with sarcasm. "But I think we'll pass on hiring your ex-convict buddies."
A blush rose in Daryl's cheeks and he quickly looked down at his plate, almost ashamed.
However, Hershel seemed intrigued. "Don't be so quick to say no, Shawn," he scolded his son. Then he turned to Daryl with a smile and said, "That's a very generous offer, Daryl. It might not be a half-bad idea. If we could split up Otis's usual pay between two new hands, it'd still be a fair wage and we could have things ready for winter in half the time it took us last year. And you'd give your word they're trustworthy fellas?"
Daryl nodded, barely lifting his eyes to meet Hershel's. "Yeah. They're harmless. I swear."
Shawn seemed displeased, to say the least.
"Are you serious, Dad?" He slammed his fork down onto his plate in frustration. "You wanna bring some dudes who just got outta prison to the farm? You wanna have that sorta type around your kids?"
Hershel blinked and looked at Shawn with slight indignation. "Last I checked, my kids weren't kids anymore. You're all adults. Surely you're not threatened by the idea of a guy with a record? Lord knows that could've been me servin' time in one of those prisons. Would you have trusted me any less just because I made some bad decisions in my past and paid the consequences, Shawn?"
Shawn snapped his mouth shut, struck silent. He cleared his throat and glanced down. "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant—"
"If Daryl says they're good guys, I'm sure we can take his word on it," Maggie interrupted, giving her brother a stern look. "I have no doubt he'll keep them in line if we need him to. I'm sure you will, too. It's not like they won't be workin' right beside you every day. What are you afraid they're gonna do? Something to get sent back to prison?"
"It's alright," Daryl mumbled without lifting his head. "I understand bein' skeptical. I shouldn'ta said nothin', I overstepped. My apologies."
"No need for apologies," Hershel insisted. "You haven't overstepped in the slightest, son. Shawn's got a penchant for paranoia, that's all."
"Oh, right." Shawn rolled his eyes. "And how'd you meet these guys, Daryl? You spend some time in prison, too?"
Without missing a beat, Daryl met Shawn's contemptuous glare and responded, "Nah, they was Merle's friends first. Only two decent dudes he ever hung around with. Met 'em at a bar, if I remember right. He stopped talkin' to 'em 'cause they weren't interested in gettin' high, but I made sure to keep in touch."
Maggie and Glenn both had an expression of disbelief on their faces due to Shawn's very blunt question. Hershel, on the other hand, seemed to be listening and observing. A little smirk curled the corner of his mouth at Daryl's response.
"So you didn't make any friends when you were locked up?" Shawn assumed.
Beth was about to chime in and tell him to shut his damn mouth before he got a smack, but Daryl appeared completely unfazed, and he was answering before she had a chance to say anything.
"I was never locked up," he said simply. "Bailed my brother out more times'an I can count, but I never took things quite as far as he did. Managed to stay under the radar an' outta trouble. I'll be honest, though: I landed myself in the drunk tank a time or two down in Savannah—back in my wilder days. But that's 'bout it. Wish I had a more interesting story to tell ya, but the only real stupid thing I've ever done was waste half my life followin' Merle around… And maybe a few speeding tickets."
Beth couldn't help but stare in awe of how effortlessly Daryl received her brother's criticisms. Like every harsh word just rolled right off his back, completely unaffecting.
Then she remembered that he was probably used to it. He'd been proving himself for years, even more so since losing Merle. And that thought made her sad. He was so accustomed to people thinking the very worst of him that it no longer fazed him. He didn't even seem like he wanted to change Shawn's mind. He was just stating facts and trying to keep the peace.
Maggie's face had gone a bright shade of pink and she glared at Shawn angrily. "You're bein' a real jerk right now, you realize that?"
Shawn leaned back in his seat, tongue-in-cheek, and returned Maggie's venomous glare. "I didn't mean—"
But they were all interrupted by the sudden arrival of a new guest beside their table.
"Hey, dudes! I heard my favorite farm family came in for their Sunday lunch—with a new addition!" It was Jerry, the owner of the diner. He towered over them, a floral-print apron tied around his waist that read Kiss The Cook and a cobbler in an aluminum pan cradled in his hands. He was grinning his usual grin, so wide that it crinkled the corners of his eyes as his gaze skimmed over the members of the Greene Family. Then it landed on Daryl and his eyebrows rose in recognition. He grinned even wider, if that was possible. "Oh! And another new addition! Man, it's good to see you guys. Especially all together like this!"
"Jerry!" Hershel beamed. "It's good to see you, too. You heard about my daughter's engagement?" He gestured towards Maggie and Glenn.
"Of course I did," Jerry said, leaning forward and carefully setting the cobbler down in the center of the table. "Carol mentioned it when she was turning in your orders. So I thought I'd make this special, just for you. On the house. Congratulations to the bride and groom!"
"Aw, thank you so much, Jerry," Maggie said, smiling wide and holding Glenn's hand tightly. "This is Glenn, my fiancé. We haven't set a date yet, but we'd love for you to come. Should I send an invitation your way?"
Jerry laughed and his round belly shook. "Hells yeah! I wouldn't miss it for the world! D'you guys have a caterer lined up yet?"
Beth was only half-listening to the conversation. She was too busy thanking God that Jerry had appeared when he did, before a full-fledged argument had broken out. She was also watching Merle through the plate-glass window at the front of the diner.
He was still chain-smoking, still glancing back at them with nothing less than discontent. But he was staying out of her ear. For now.
Shawn, on the other hand, was a whole other problem. And she wasn't sure she had much patience left on her ever-shortening rope.
to be continued…
