if you go straight long enough, you'll end up where you were
There was a text waiting on Beth's phone when she woke up on Tuesday morning. To her disappointment, it was just Irma and Dale checking in on her and reporting that they were currently driving through the Midwest. She texted back an assurance of her safety and well-being before jumping to her email inbox in hopes of an answer from Jesus. But all she had were more offers of sex with strangers. She cleared the messages with a disgusted scowl.
The news hadn't posted any updates on her story, and she took it as a good sign considering it was approaching noon. She hoped it would be a busy news day for politics and world affairs. However, the nagging voice at the back of her mind was reminding her that all she could do for the foreseeable future was hope that other, more interesting news kept happening and that no one would grow interested in the case of a runaway, eighteen-year-old, cop killer.
Beth was beginning to grow comfortable in her new morning routine. She knew that Daryl and Malachi had left earlier because, like normal, she woke briefly to hear the sound of the front door around 7:30. The apartment was empty and peaceful once again, and she walked about leisurely. Once she'd assured herself that it wasn't another holiday and there was no plausible reason for Daryl to walk in early, she went back to leaving her pants in the bedroom. Instead, she wandered about the apartment in her panties and night shirt, sipping fresh coffee and fully waking up.
After brushing her teeth and taking a long, hot shower without fear of interruption, Beth dressed in sweatpants and her night shirt and went about making herself breakfast. From the dishes left behind, she assumed Daryl and Malachi had eaten oatmeal and Lucky Charms, and when she'd finished eating her own meal, she washed all the dirty dishes and left them in the dishrack to dry. When she finally settled down on the couch with her second cup of coffee and her phone, it was past noon. But the sounds drifting in through the open window in the living room indicated that the city was just starting to come fully alive. The rain had cleared up the day before and revealed sunlight and mild temperatures, but today was a different story. The temperature was hotter, and the humidity hung in the air, but the clouds had returned to cover most of the sun, and rain kept falling somewhat randomly from the progressively darkening sky.
Beth liked the smell of the rain, though. She breathed it in deeply, finding her muscles relaxing from the presence of the familiar sensation. The damp air drifting through the apartment brought back faint memories of rainy nights in her bedroom back home, when she'd leave her window open and she could hear the bullfrogs from clear down at the creek.
She checked the news on her phone again to find other stories still being reported on. She sighed softly in relief and set the phone down, grabbing the TV remote instead and turning it on. The screen came to life and interrupted the content silence that had encased the living room. But it proved to make Beth feel a little less alone for the moment, which could be nice sometimes. She didn't feel like reading today, but she didn't want to sit around and dwell on the same old problems again either.
It had only been about an hour of channel-surfing through reality shows when a knock came at the front door. Beth jumped and looked over to the door, as if it would show her who was outside. She listened for a voice, but none came. Quickly and quietly, she got up and went to the door, standing up on her tiptoes to look out through the peephole. Waiting in front of the door was Carol, head turned to look down the hall.
Beth let out the breath she'd been holding and unlocked the door, opening it. "Everythin' okay?"
Carol turned to look at Beth as soon as she heard the door opening. She was standing in the hall, Malachi gripping her hand from beside her. She smiled politely and nodded. "Yeah, somebody just forgot his favorite sleeping buddy for naptime."
Beth looked down to Malachi to see that he had tears in his eyes and his thumb in his mouth, whimpers coming from his throat every few seconds. She gave Carol a sympathetic smile and stepped aside to let them in. They entered the apartment and headed straight for the boys' bedroom, Beth shutting the door behind them. Within seconds, they came back, Malachi now holding a rubber ant the size of a teddy bear. His eyes were still teary, but he looked exceptionally happier and he was no longer whimpering.
"Hey, are you busy right now?" Carol stopped as she approached the door to face Beth, who remained frozen where she stood, caught off guard by the question.
She shook her head and managed to mutter, "No – not really."
Carol made a pointed glance at Beth's hair and said, "I can trim that up for you real quick, if ya want. Just make it look… more intentional."
Beth quirked an eyebrow, her first instinct to be suspicious, but reminded herself to try to relax. She shrugged. At first, she wondered if Daryl had told his neighbor about their awkward encounter the day before. "Um, sure. I guess. I mean – I didn't really think it looked that bad, but - "
Carol waved her free hand dismissively and shook her head as she reached for the door handle. "No, no, it's not like that. It'll still be the same haircut, except it'll be even. Am I gonna have to coax you for months like I do with Daryl?"
Beth raised her eyebrows curiously. "Well – okay. If you really want to, I s'pose… What – how d'you coax Daryl into a haircut?"
Carol paused with her hand holding the front door partly open, smirking with a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. "Cookies."
Sixteen-year-old Beth Greene was lying in her bed, eyes shut as she tried to force herself to fall back to sleep. Her curtains were drawn to keep out the bright June sunlight, but it still cast light over the piles of dirty clothes in her room and the pile that was her own body wrapped up in a blanket atop the bed. She had drifted in and out of sleep all night, her wrist still aching and itching underneath the layers of bandages so badly at times that she couldn't lie still.
No matter how much she slept, though, she always felt exhausted.
There was a knock at her door, and she opened her eyes. It wasn't even noon yet, and her momma usually didn't try to bother her until after lunch time. Beth wondered if she was going to try to get her to eat some breakfast again today. It had been a day and a half since she'd eaten a bowl of soup – forcing it down despite the fact that it tasted like cardboard – and she still had no inkling of an appetite.
The knock came again, and Beth tried to ignore it once more. But as she rolled over, she heard another knock, and seconds later, the door was being opened. She groaned and looked up to see Maggie entering her bedroom, a scary look of determination on her face.
"Go away," Beth mumbled from her cocoon of blankets and pillows, rolling over again so that her back was to Maggie.
"Get up," her older sister demanded. The brunette had fire in her eyes, and she walked over to the side of Beth's bed to lean down and begin nudging her.
"No. I'm tryin' to sleep," Beth grumbled, pulling the blankets over her head.
"Beth, I'm not messin' with you today. Get up, or I will bring the hose in here," Maggie ordered. Her voice was stern and serious, and she was clearly in no mood to play around.
"I don't feel good," Beth answered, voice muffled from beneath the blanket.
Maggie grabbed it and yanked it off of the blonde, "Beth, you've been in bed all week. Your wrist is healin' and you're fine. It's time to get up and start living or you're just gonna wanna kill yourself again!"
Beth groaned loudly, trying to kick Maggie's hand away as she continued pulling the blankets off of her. "Leave me alone! I don't wanna be a part of this shitty family anymore!"
As soon as she'd said it, though, Beth knew it had been a mistake. Her sister's face scrunched up in anger and the fire in her eyes turned into a blaze. She grabbed Beth by the arms and forced her to sit up, staring directly into her eyes.
"You don't get to do this. Okay? I can't do this shit alone," her voice was low and serious. "Whether you like it or not, you're part of this family. You got one more year of this shit and then you can go anywhere you want for college. I don't get that option. You don't wanna die. Remember? You told me yourself!"
Yes, Beth remembered. She'd said it out of sheer panic while trying to hold her skin on her wrist together to stop the profuse bleeding. She also remembered the way Maggie had asked her, over and over, "Why? Why, why, why?!"
But her older sister continued sternly, "…Now you learned your lesson, and you had your time to be depressed. So it's time to get the fuck up and help me deal with this shit so we can make sure you move on t'do somethin' better with your life and get the hell away from all of this."
Beth's eyes were tearing up, but she forced them back. Her sister's grip on her arms hadn't loosened, nor had her gaze gotten any less intense. Her words were heavy on Beth's ears, but only because she knew they were true.
"You can do this, alright? We can do this. This is our family; you don't abandon your family," Maggie continued, voice softening just the slightest. "Daddy needs us, Mom needs us, Shawn needs us. We're strong because we have t'be. Now get up and help me... Glenn and Shawn are in the city for the day and I can't do everythin' by myself. Come on."
Beth gazed at her older sister with a silent expression, but Maggie understood it well. Sometimes, they didn't need words to communicate.
She squeezed the young blonde's arms reassuringly, her voice still conveying tough love as she added, "You're a Greene... Now act like one."
She let go and stood up, turning and leaving the bedroom with Beth still sitting on the edge of her bed in silence. The younger sister knew that Maggie was right.
But that didn't make it any easier.
Carol's apartment actually smelled like cookies. When the door to 3B was open, even briefly, the smell invaded the hall and floated across to 3A. Beth had smelled it before walking inside, but once the door was shut, it enveloped her. Her stomach grumbled and she smiled to herself, not having expected to find actual cookies when she followed Carol and Malachi across the hall. But when she'd stepped into the living room and looked to her right, she could see the plate of freshly baked treats sitting on the counter in the kitchen.
"I'm gonna lay him back down. You can help yourself to a cookie, if you'd like," Carol explained, gesturing to the plate before leading the toddler down the hall to her bedroom.
Beth approached the counter and gingerly plucked a cookie from the plate. It was still warm and a little soft from the oven. She chewed it slowly, thinking about how her momma's had been better, but these were still really good.
When Carol came back, she was holding a black box in her hands, and she left the bedroom door open just a crack, but the room remained silent. The TV was on in the living room at a low volume, serving as nothing more than white noise, and Sophia's bedroom was dark and the door was shut while she was away at school. Beth stood aside and watched as the older woman set the box down on the bar in the kitchen before grabbing one of the bar stools and moving it to the center of the kitchen's tile floor. She gestured to the stool and looked at Beth, who seated herself upon it without a word.
The older woman then walked to the bathroom, disappearing for a few seconds before coming back with a towel and a few hairclips. She set her tools down with the black box and wrapped the towel around Beth's neck, letting it drape over her shoulders, back, and chest. Beth took out her earrings, setting them on the counter to avoid getting them caught in the comb or getting pulled on.
They didn't speak – Beth wasn't quite sure how to start a conversation – and Carol set to work on the uneven, shaggy mop that sat atop Beth's head. She pulled out a shiny pair of professional-looking scissors from the black box and ran a comb through Beth's hair, clipping up the top half of it as she worked to comb through the bottom half and capture singular strands between her fingers. Beth fought the urge to wince the first few times she felt the older woman's hands on her scalp or tugging on the strands of her hair.
Thankfully, Carol spoke first, her tone the same as if she were talking about the weather. She seemed to have found the silence a little too boring. "Boy's down for his nap… He'll probably be out for a good hour."
Beth was unsure of what to say, and she didn't want to nod her head while there were scissors near her scalp. She muttered, "That's good… I guess – he has an ant instead of a teddy bear? To sleep with?"
Carol chuckled lightly. "You should see his nightlights in the summertime. When the fireflies are out, Daryl takes him to the park and they catch 'em in jars. He sits them next to his bed so he can watch 'em blink all night."
Beth smiled. "Can't say I never did that back home."
"Well, rest of the year, he's got pill bugs an' beetles in there. Daryl lets him keep them in the bedroom but I dunno about that," Carol explained, chuckling at the end.
Beth laughed in surprise, the memory of seeing the jars clicking in her head. Now she understood why it had looked like jars full of leaves and sticks – she just hadn't seen the bugs inside. "He's somethin' else…"
She'd said it as an idle comment, something she'd heard said by adults for as long as she could remember, but Carol's voice grew serious and she said, quietly, "Yeah, well… he is. They both are. They've been through a lot together."
Beth swallowed hard and looked down at the floor. Carol continued combing and cutting off pieces of hair, and Beth could hear the scissors clipping away near her ear: snip, snip, snip.
"Yeah, I… had no idea," she mumbled when the silence became too heavy.
Carol sighed. "Yeah, I know…"
Snip. Snip. Snip.
"He doesn't like t'talk about it. He doesn't like to talk about anything… Daryl is – uh, different. He's an… island of a man," the older woman explained, her voice hushed in the quiet apartment as the sound of her scissors accompanied her words.
"I just didn't wanna… intrude," Beth mumbled.
"Don't worry about it," Carol said. "He likes you. He would have kicked you out by now if he didn't. I know he can be tough t'read sometimes."
Beth held back a laugh. Sometimes? She thought.
She wasn't sure if Carol was setting up the conversation for Beth to ask questions about Daryl's past or to try to test Beth's true intentions; if Daryl was hard to read, this woman was practically written in braille.
Snip, snip, snip.
"I… noticed there aren't any pictures in the apartment," Beth started, voice hesitant. "…of Malachi's mom…"
She could hear Carol's sigh near her ear and felt the hot breath ruffle a bit of her hair. She immediately regretted the question, sensing that she had overstepped her bounds. The scissors didn't stop, though.
Snip, snip, snip, snip.
She felt a clip pulled from her hair and it released the bit of hair it had been holding up, which Carol began separating, combing, and cutting. After a few long seconds of silence, in which she'd seemed to be thinking, Carol answered.
"I don't think he has many pictures. She passed away when Mal was a baby," her voice grew quieter, as though she feared Malachi hearing her from the bedroom, and her scissor cuts became slower and more careful as she explained. "She and Daryl were together for a few years, she was a nice girl. I never met her – he didn't move in next door until after she was gone – but he's been alone ever since. Not that he's really the relationship type anyway. But I think she was good for him."
She pulled another clip from Beth's hair and began cutting into another section, then moved onto the next. Beth sat in silence, wanting to ask one particular question but hesitating.
"…How-how did she… pass away?" She finally asked, trying to word it as carefully as possible.
Carol pulled another clip and freed the last of Beth's hair, but her movements didn't become any rougher or any gentler. She explained in the same hushed tone she'd used moments before, to Beth's relief.
"She took her own life about six months after Malachi was born… She had postpartum depression and – well, neither of them understood what was goin' on, so they didn't know how to deal with it. She ended up dealing with it the only way she knew how."
The breath caught in Beth's throat. She instantly remembered the book she'd seen in Daryl's bookcase – Understanding Postpartum Depression – and the disturbing lack of family photos. She understood now why he never mentioned it. And she understood why he didn't want to 'talk about it,' as Carol had said. She could only imagine that she wouldn't want to talk about something like that, either.
Her wrist started aching, and she rubbed at it with her other hand beneath the towel that covered her.
"Wow, I had… no idea," she muttered, at a loss for words.
"Yeah, it's a touchy subject," Carol said casually as she trimmed up the last few pieces of Beth's hair and took a step back to inspect. "There we go – that's a lot better. Come take a look in the mirror."
Beth hopped off the barstool and followed Carol to the bathroom, where she turned on the light and moved to let Beth step in front of the mirror above the sink. Surprisingly, Beth did notice a difference. Carol hadn't been full of shit after all, and she'd actually done a really good job of cleaning up Beth's impromptu haircut into something that looked stylish and, like the older woman had so accurately described it earlier, intentional. She hadn't taken any more length, leaving the ends reaching just past Beth's ears, but she'd evened the choppy ends and added layers to make it look more voluminous and silky. Beth was still having a difficult time adjusting to the image of herself as a brunette, but at the moment, she was feeling a little more like Beth Greene and a little less like Rosie.
"The dye you used was pretty cheap - the blonde still shows through in certain lighting. You might wanna do another application," Carol commented, reaching out to run her fingers through the freshly-cut hair and inspect her own work. Beth flinched away from her touch but immediately caught herself and tried to play it off like she'd been leaning away coincidentally. She could tell Carol had noticed, though. However, what worried her more was the fact that this woman could tell she was naturally blonde.
"Your natural eyes are very pretty," Carol said casually, keeping her hands to herself this time. Beth found herself caught by surprise once again.
She side-eyed the older woman for just a second before turning away from the mirror and looking at her face-to-face, asking, "He told you – didn't he?"
Carol's demeanor didn't change. She continued smiling pleasantly, as if she'd already known everything to begin with, and returned Beth's gaze with unbroken eye contact. She nodded.
"He didn't have to, though - you already showed most of the signs."
Beth gave her a quizzical look. "Signs?"
Carol's voice grew softer, more gentle. "Of abuse. It's none of my business, but – well, I'm studying to be licensed in this sorta thing. I could see through Daryl, you think I couldn't see through you?"
She wasn't sure how to answer that. Her heart was racing and she feared Carol knew more than she was letting on. Yet she was acting like she was trying to approach a wounded animal, working to earn Beth's trust first before admitting that she already knew her little story.
"They were just contacts – anyone with a good eye could see they weren't natural. Don't worry, though, your secret is safe with me. Daryl wouldn't have told me if he didn't trust me. He's just… not very good at dealing with situations delicately," Carol explained. "But he cares. And he's worried. And so am I. He said you still had a black eye when he met you…"
Beth shrugged, trying not to let the older woman manipulate her. She didn't say it aloud, but in her head, she was thinking, Yeah, well he didn't get away unscathed, so…
She didn't need someone getting this close right now, and she hadn't told Daryl that lie because she'd wanted someone to "care." She wasn't upset in the slightest that he'd told Carol. If anything, it helped her, because that was one less person she'd have to recite the lie to and try to convince. He had just convinced his neighbor for her. No, she wasn't upset, but she was a little disappointed – mostly at the fact that both these people had assumed she was abused. But they didn't even know half of the real truth.
"Yeah, but… it must've gotten pretty bad if you felt the need to disguise yourself in a state so far away," Carol went on, furrowing her brow. "You're not alone, though. Millions of people are abused every day. That's why I'm goin' into that kind of work – I wanna help other women like you and me."
Abused? She thought bitterly. I'm not some battered woman. I'm not a victim. I was never abused… But if they wanna think that - fine. I'll play the part.
Carol interpreted Beth's long pause as hesitance to speak, or fear. "You don't have to talk about it. I understand. It's none of my business. But I just want you to know that you're safe. None of us will let anything happen to you. Most of us have been in… similar positions."
Beth furrowed her brow. "Us?"
"Me, Daryl, Rosita, Tara, the other girls in the class - us," Carol explained.
"What – what d'you mean?" She asked, still confused.
Carol shrugged, "Well, you might not consider them friends yet, but you should. We all met because of the class but we were brought together by something bigger: we're all survivors."
Beth stared at Carol blankly, her voice coming out weak, "Of… abuse?"
Carol nodded. "Sophia and I left her father back in Georgia because of it... Tara helped her sister and niece escape her abusive brother-in-law... Rosita left an abusive boyfriend after two hospital stays just months before she joined the class. And Daryl… well, he experienced a – pretty rough childhood, and he's still recovering from it in a way… But we all survived. And it brought us together and made us better."
Beth took in the information slowly, trying to imagine what Carol was describing. She hadn't had the slightest clue about Tara and Rosita's stories – although it wasn't exactly something you'd find out during one lunch outing – and Daryl's was somehow unsurprising, in a way, though still shocking to hear aloud. She knew that even the girls in the class didn't know Daryl was also an abuse survivor – or at least, they'd said they didn't know, although they'd made some assumptions. And of course, she'd known about Carol's story, just like everyone else did. But it was a harsh reality to have your eyes opened to. She realized Rosita had been right when she'd said that Carol was a 'magnet for the formerly abused.' She had wondered what that meant at the time, but now it made perfect sense.
"You're lucky to have found Daryl out here," Carol added. "Especially when you're carrying around a bag full of money."
"I know," Beth said, her words finally coming back to her. "I'm… still figurin' things out. I'm working on getting a new ID and everything. I just – I don't want him t'find me. I don't know how far I'll have t'go to get away."
The story was flowing from her effortlessly as lies formed in her head one after the other. The look of sympathy on Carol's face was fueling her. Her heart raced, but not from being nervous or scared – instead, she was ecstatic that her cover story was fitting in so well with the entire situation. She could play on Carol's emotions and convince her without a doubt at this point.
Carol nodded as she listened and spoke gently as they stood together in the quiet bathroom, "I know. Did you wait until you had your inheritance? Did any of your abuse have to do with the money?"
Beth shook her head. "No, he-he doesn't know I got the inheritance. I took it and left as soon as I had the chance. I got out of the state as fast as I could, but he's a cop, so I dunno – well, I don't know how far he'd actually go t'get to me."
Carol nodded again, her eyes studying Beth carefully as she spoke. "I understand. What kind of police officer is he? Do you know if he has any connections clear up here?"
Again, Beth shook her head, the story building in her mind as it spilled from her mouth. "Just a – well, um, he's – a detective. He's a detective and I'm just not sure how many people he knows. I got as far away as I could but… he's capable of anything. Really."
She had stumbled over her words while trying to think of a believable lie and instinctively said "detective" because it had been the first title to come to mind. She knew, though, that she was subconsciously describing the detective that was still lying in a hospital bed, comatose, back in Atlanta.
"It's okay," Carol said. "You've gone to some pretty great lengths to avoid anyone seeing you, I don't think you have to worry."
Beth watched Carol's eyes switch from sympathetic to suspicious and back again within just a few seconds before the older woman spoke again, asking, "Are you sure… there's not somethin' else?"
Beth gave her a quizzical look.
"We don't have to talk about it, I just… it seems like – well, maybe there's another part of this that you're not mentioning," Carol explained, the suspicion appearing in her eyes again. "I'm not saying you did anything wrong – and don't ever think that, because you did the right thing by gettin' out and far away – but… Look: you can't keep everything bottled up forever. Okay? It's still fresh, it's all still new and scary. But when you're ready to talk… I'm here. And I can keep a secret. Trust me... Whatever you had to do to get yourself to safety was necessary, and it's no one's business but your own…"
Beth didn't answer, completely dumbfounded and speechless. Was Carol seeing through her ruse right now without even realizing it? Or was she trying to pry more dirty details from "Rosie" to discover the extent of the abuse? Maybe she was just taking her counseling training a little too seriously.
"Can I ask you about that scar on your wrist?"
Carol's sudden question caught Beth off-guard and her eyes widened slightly, her right hand instinctually moving to grab her left wrist and cover it. But she corrected herself and pulled it away, then nodded slowly before holding her wrist out for the older woman to inspect. She took Beth's forearm in her hands gingerly and looked closely at the scar – there were still rows of white dots on either side of the faint, white line from where the stitches had been. As Carol stared down at it, Beth remembered watching Maggie stitch it back together, tears still rolling down her big sister's cheeks as she did so.
"Were you trying to kill yourself?" Carol asked.
This question surprised Beth, too, yet the answer came out easily and without a second thought. "Yes… and no."
Carol nodded, letting go of Beth's arm and letting her pull it back in close to her body. "Sophia's been… cutting herself. And burning herself. We've been goin' to therapy but… it just seems to get worse."
Beth listened intently, studying the older woman as her vulnerability began to show through. It quickly reminded her that Carol was just another mother who was trying to protect her daughter. She asked curiously, "Because of her dad?"
Carol nodded without hesitation. "He's been gone a while, but what he did… it just never goes away. I should've left sooner, but I didn't, and that's my fault. But I'm tryin' to help her now and the older she gets, the harder it gets. I know she doesn't blame me, but I'm trying to convince her that she can't blame herself either."
Beth nodded understandingly. At first, she'd wanted to turn the conversation back on her just to get out from under the spotlight, but as she watched Carol and the worry that creased her face, she felt empathy for her. It made her think about her own mother, even though she didn't want to… Was she actually connecting to this woman right now? Without having to lie about it?
"I don't think she wants to die. And I don't think she wants t'hurt you, even though she is," Beth said, offering advice from her own personal experience. "But she has all that pain and nothing to do with it… Sometimes, jumpin' ship seems like the best option. Even though it really isn't… The second I realized that I was actually going to die was the second that I realized I didn't actually want to die."
Carol shook her head as if she were shaking the thoughts out of her mind, and mumbled, "Daryl does that stuff, too… blames himself. For everythin'. He could use some counseling, too, but he absolutely refuses. He's a wonderful man but I – I'm scared that Sophia will grow up and be emotionally stunted like that."
Beth was a bit taken aback by this remark but understood that it was most likely true. Not to mention, it helped explain some things about his behavior and demeanor. It was a reasonable fear for a mother to have.
Carol sighed and shook her head again, then put on a half-forced smile and said, in a cheerier tone, "Let's go back t'the kitchen. You want some tea or water? More cookies?"
Beth nodded and pulled the towel off her shoulders to hand it to Carol, who tossed it into the laundry basket next to the washer and dryer. She shut off the bathroom light and led Beth back to the kitchen, setting out two glasses of sweet tea on the kitchen bar. Beth took a seat on one of the stools at the bar and helped herself to another cookie with her tea while she watched Carol gather her tools up and sweep all the hair from the kitchen floor. When she was done, she replaced the other barstool to its spot and joined Beth.
"So how long d'you think you'll stay?" Carol asked, sipping her tea and grabbing her own cookie to nibble on.
Beth shrugged, staring down at the glass of tea sitting in front of her. "Not… long. I don't think. I'm um – waitin' to hear from a family friend about a place to go. It would be somewhere safe that can actually be… long-term."
Carol nodded. "Okay… and what if that falls through? Is there a backup plan?"
Beth looked up to meet Carol's bright blue eyes. Even though she was lying, it was mostly just a disguise for the truth. Carol was making a good point: what if Jesus did fall through? Then what would her options be?
"…No. I guess… not…"
Carol raised an eyebrow. "Well, sounds like you have enough money to fall back on, at least. Maybe you could stay. Once you know you're safe, you could get your own place… or move on somewhere else."
Beth nodded slowly, but her mind was drifting off elsewhere.
"You are safe, ya know," Carol said softly, leaning in a bit closer to Beth. "And you deserve to be, no matter what you might've been through. You don't have t'leave. I know Daryl isn't always the most welcoming host, but he gets attached once he starts caring about you."
Beth smirked, finding the statement almost funny. "Why would he care about me? We barely know each other. I'm just – passin' through."
Carol shook her head and returned the smirk. "That might be, but damaged people sense damaged people, and some of them – like Daryl – wanna protect the others from being hurt again. It's just human nature."
Beth was, for the millionth time, unsure of what to say in response to that. She looked back down to her tea and took a slow sip. She didn't like the unfamiliar feeling that was forming in her gut.
"You believe in God?" Carol asked after a few moments of silence, and Beth looked at her again to see that she was pointing to the gold crucifix that hung from Beth's neck.
She nodded, her hand automatically reaching up to touch the family heirloom. Carol didn't ask about the ring that hung from the same chain as the cross. "Yeah. Went to church my whole life."
She knew she probably should've come up with a lie for that part, but she didn't feel right lying about her faith. Besides, the cross was out in the open, on her necklace, and she was making no effort to hide it. She could admit that she'd been going to church her entire life without going into the details about how she basically grew up in the church and that her congregation had become part of her family.
"Me, too," Carol said. "And I think this was divine intervention. What were the chances that you'd come to such a big city, so far from home, and find the exact people who could help you most at a time like this? God leads you to exactly where you need t'be."
Beth shrugged, smiling and not knowing why. She didn't want to smile at that statement, but it had forced its way onto her face, and for some reason, her heart fluttered a little. She wondered, silently, if God was trying to talk to her. If she were being honest, she'd done a good job of avoiding Him thus far. Now she was realizing that He'd probably been with her the whole time.
Just like her daddy had always talked about.
"I guess… you're right. Yeah," she said quietly.
Carol smiled, pleased. "Just trust yourself for once. If it feels right, if you feel safe… don't make another change that y'don't have to make. You can still settle down and have a normal life… You can have a whole life that your ex will never have any part of. And I know it might sound cliché, but… your abuse doesn't define you."
Beth looked away and took another sip of sweet tea. Her mind was racing and so was her heart, and she really didn't like how she couldn't tell whether Carol was being genuine and maternal or if she was just doing her best to sound like a shrink. They sat in silence for about a minute, the low sound of the TV behind them. Beth looked over at the piano in the corner, finding a reason to change the subject.
"That's a beautiful piano," she said, gesturing toward it. "Did someone give it to you?"
Carol glanced over at the piano and smiled, explaining, "Yeah, it was my mother-in-law's. She passed away when Sophia was five, but they were really close. She was beautifully talented with music… Ed wanted to sell it, but I got a storage unit and kept it away from him. I want Sophia to have it in her home one day, like her grandmother wanted."
Beth nodded, feeling a bit guilty for touching it without permission. "Wow, you got a piano all the way from Georgia to up here?"
"Oh, yeah," Carol explained casually. "I got the U-Haul rented and packed right before Sophia was discharged from the hospital for the… broken arm. That Ed gave her."
Beth's eyes widened but Carol's face remained unchanged, as though she were telling a story she'd told a million times. Her voice didn't crack but her lips pursed just slightly.
"He beat me for years, and I thought that was just… how it was s'posed to be," she began to explain when Beth remained silent and wide-eyed. "Then it started on Sophia. At first, I dismissed it as discipline… Then her teachers started askin' about the bruises. And then, one night, he lost control and snapped her arm nearly in two. That was it… When I heard my daughter's bone break, something snapped inside me, too – and we were gone within the week. He had no idea we'd even left until we were passin' though Virginia."
Beth swallowed hard, unable to look away from Carol's intense gaze. She managed to mutter, "Wow…"
The older woman seemed unaffected, and for a second, Beth was picturing herself in Carol's position. It was a little frightening to her how easily she could picture Jimmy as Ed within the scenario. She couldn't help but wonder… had she escaped that kind of fate, too?
Beth was sitting on the open tailgate of Jimmy's pick-up truck. They had parked in a field out in the boonies, taking countless dirt roads far away from the Greene's farm. The sky was dark and the stars were bright against the blackness, glimmering down on the open, grassy field. Jimmy sat next to her on the tailgate, their legs dangling next to each other as they sat with their thighs pressed together. Beth squeezed his hand, which was clasped tightly in hers, and looked over to meet his eyes in the moonlight. They'd been talking for several minutes, nothing to interrupt them but the chirping of crickets.
"…I'm not going anywhere," Beth said softly, gripping Jimmy's hand tighter. "They can't control my whole life. I'll be eighteen soon and then we can leave, we can go anywhere we want."
This was a lie. Beth still didn't know for sure when, or if, the cops would leave her family alone. She had no idea when she'd ever be able to leave. Honestly, she didn't have the heart to step away anytime soon, even if her daddy or Maggie were to tell her to move on or go to college. She would feel far too guilty leaving them all behind with the prospect of prison looming over their heads. But she couldn't tell Jimmy that, because he would turn into an inconsolable, raging, sobbing mess, and she'd have to deal with whatever wreckage he caused. So for now, she assured him that they'd just have to wait it out a little longer, and avoided the inevitable fight it would bring.
He nodded but he still looked like a sad puppy dog, eyes wide and brimmed with tears. He'd always been somewhat sensitive, but lately, he would get extremely emotional at even the slightest hint that they might break up. She had a bad feeling that his – sometimes violent – mood swings were a side effect of the meth, but she tried to ignore it. She knew that he knew that he was fucking up, and that her family was sick of him and wanted her to leave him, but it didn't scare him enough to actually change anything. He couldn't show his face around the farm anymore, and even now, they had snuck out to be together. Beth knew she was defying both her father's and sister's wishes, but she didn't care. Jimmy was the one thing in her life that she had any sort of choice about, and she wanted to be with him – and he wanted to be with her. Needed to be with her. She could see it every time he broke down into tears and begged her to stay. He loved her.
"Why don't we go now, baby?" Jimmy asked, his voice coming out whiny and child-like.
She sighed, becoming exhausted with having to explain this same thing over and over for the last month. "Babe, I can't… I just can't. I'm still a minor, they could report me as kidnapped an' have you arrested… And I have to stick around until the cops stop snoopin' around anyway."
Jimmy groaned, but his voice was still pleading. "What's it matter, babe? Let yer dad deal with it. It's his business anyway. Yer only involved because yer his daughter… And he would never call the cops on me. He knows I'd tell them everything."
Beth's face hardened and she gave him a stern look. "No, you wouldn't. Remember, if they get arrested, I get arrested. I've committed just as much crime as they have – and so have you! I'd never be able to forgive you for puttin' my dad behind bars, are you serious?!"
Jimmy actually looked surprised by this and pulled his hand away from Beth's. "You're an adult, Beth. You can make yer own decisions – you don't need Daddy makin' 'em all for you. Am I dating a twelve-year-old? …You ain't done nothin' wrong, and neither have I. 'Sides, yer dad has a lot more t'lose than I do."
Beth pursed her lips and bit back her anger. "That doesn't matter. None of it matters. I would never forgive you for turnin' in my family."
He rolled his eyes and she felt the anger boiling up hotter inside her. He always did this – belittled her and her feelings, and then made her feel like an idiot for having them in the first place. And of course, he would never admit to any guilt of any kind, not even to her - even though he'd broken just as many laws as anyone else that had worked for her family.
"Then, what, yer gonna dump me? 'Cause we can't hide it from yer dad forever," Jimmy said. "He's gonna figure it out eventually, if he hasn't already. Or Maggie will. An' then what? …What's it matter if we leave now or next month? We're in love, we wanna be together, yer dad can't stop that. Nobody can…"
Beth swallowed back tears as Jimmy reached out and held both her hands in his, staring into her eyes.
"…I love you, Beth… I love you so much... Please don't leave me… Your family doesn't want you t'be happy, they just want you t'work an-and stay with them forever. "
Her hands were limp in his but she was taking in every word he said and looking back at him with sympathy. He was right, and she loved him for it. As much as he pissed her off, she knew that was normal for most relationships, and it just meant they had passion for each other. They were in love. They were soulmates. Not even her daddy could get in between that. Jimmy was the only one who could truly open her eyes to the way her family treated her, and had been treating her. Especially when he got like this – his eyes staring so deeply into hers, his voice pleading and desperate.
She looked away from him and back to the stars, hoping the tears would somehow absorb back into her eyes if she tilted her head back. She took in a deep breath, preparing to confront Jimmy about the one thing that had really been bothering her.
"I love you, too, Jimmy… but… you need to stop… tweaking. My-my family might be wrong about us, but they're right about what you've been doin'. You have t'stop…" Her voice was weak and soft, and after the words came out, the silence hung in the air, and she held her breath waiting for his response.
"I told you, I'm quittin'," he said, the anger in his voice gradually escalating as he wasted no time getting defensive. "It doesn't happen overnight. Sorry I'm not perfect like Maggie's fuckin' chink husband, but I'm workin' on it, okay? Maybe if I knew you were gonna leave with me, I'd have a little more incentive t'change shit…"
"I told you not to call him that!" Beth cried angrily, yanking her hands free of Jimmy's. "Stop being a racist dick, he's my brother-in-law, and he's not perfect, but he doesn't do fuckin' meth! I - is that really such a ridiculous request? That my boyfriend not be addicted to fucking drugs before I decide to move away and start a life with him?!"
Jimmy scoffed, his voice rising until he was yelling. "I'm not addicted to drugs, yer so fuckin' overdramatic! I have nothing but you, Beth! Don't you fuckin' get that?! You're the only reason I'm still here, and if we don't get the fuck outta this God forsaken town soon, I'm gonna fuckin' lose it!"
"Now who's being overdramatic?" Beth snapped, crossing her arms in front of her. "A month, Jimmy – that's it. I'll be eighteen and we can leave. But if my family gets arrested before then, I'm not gonna be – "
Jimmy hopped down from the tailgate and began pacing angrily, his breathing heavy and his face becoming red as he continued to yell. "Yer family isn't gettn' fucking ARRESTED! Why're you so worried about them?! Who gives a fuck? Let's just go – they don't give a shit about you anyway!"
"Shut the fuck up!" Beth yelled back, hopping down from the tailgate as well and taking a few steps to further her distance from Jimmy. "They're my fucking family! I'm sorry you an' yer family don't get along, but mine is all I have!"
He marched over to the driver's side of the pickup truck and, before Beth could understand what was happening, he had punched the side of the bed twice, as hard as he could. He grunted in anger, letting out an angry scream right afterwards. Then he turned back to Beth, fists still clenched. She'd known she shouldn't have brought up his family to use against him, but he'd left her no choice.
"I am all you have! ME! You have ME, Beth! I fucking love you, they don't! We have to fucking leave now or else you'll never leave!" His face was beet red as he screamed at her.
Beth's face scrunched up in defiance and she angrily screamed back, "That's not fucking true!"
He charged toward her and she froze in place, unsure of what he was going to do, watching as he reached out and grabbed her arm with one hand. He wrapped his hand around her forearm and squeezed it so tightly that his fingers were touching and her hand started to get tingly after just a few seconds. He yanked her in close to him, nearly causing her to stumble over her own feet, then grabbed her face with the other hand and pulled her in for a long, deep kiss. But his lips were dry and chapped and his mouth tasted horrible. He was kissing her so roughly that she wanted to pull away – but she didn't.
When he finally stopped and pulled his lips away, hand still resting on her cheek while the other had loosened its grip on her arm, he stared down into her wide, fearful eyes. She was completely confused by his actions, but she was also so infatuated with him that she was eager to hear what he would say. Her anger from moments before had seemed to dissipate. She knew he only said those things because he loved her so much and wanted to be with her so badly – he didn't actually mean them. He ran his thumb across her cheek softly and when he spoke, she could feel his hot breath on her face.
"I love you more than anyone else ever could," he whispered, eyes wide and pitiful. "And I'd rather die than not be with you… I'll kill both of us, if I have to. But I won't let anyone keep us apart. Because I love you… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled, baby, I just… get so mad sometimes… But I love you. I love you more than life itself… Please, please, just stay with me, I'll do better…"
She knew she shouldn't let him off that easily, but it was so hard to remember why she was angry when he seemed so vulnerable before her. He knew all the words to say to convince her. She believed him when he said he'd rather die than not be with her – and it almost scared her. But she knew it was out of love. Their entire relationship was passionate, and they'd always loved each other fiercely. That's just how love worked, she knew. And when you love someone, you put them before yourself. And now, he needed her help. So how was she supposed to turn her back on the man she loved? She would just have to prove her father and her sister wrong.
After she snuck back into her bedroom that night, she realized that Jimmy's tight grasp on her arm had – once again – left a dark bruise. It went completely around her forearm like a fat, purple-and-red bracelet. She had to wear long sleeves for three weeks to keep it hidden.
Beth only spent about fifteen more minutes at Carol's before she returned to 3A, slipping out the door before Malachi was expected to wake up from his nap. She had finished another cookie and her glass of sweet tea and thanked Carol graciously for working her magic on Beth's hair. And on her way out the door, Carol had reminded her to do another color application with the hair dye, to which she nodded.
After she crossed the hall back to her and Daryl's apartment and got inside, behind the locked door, she found herself emotionally exhausted from her conversation with Carol. She was a nice woman with obviously good intentions, but Beth hadn't expected anyone to connect with her or relate to her while she was here. And even more, she hadn't expected an interaction that made her think she was receiving a sign from God.
But there it was. And what kind of believer would she be if she ignored God's voice when it was so loud and clear?
She turned off the TV that had been left on in the living room and got herself a glass of water before grabbing her phone and hiding away in her bedroom with the stack of books that sat on her nightstand. There were still a few hours before Daryl and Malachi would be returning home, but she didn't feel like sitting on the couch alone anymore. Instead, she laid in bed and read, her door open just enough to let in the light and noise from the windows of the living room.
About three hours passed when her phone vibrated from where it sat on the nightstand. She slipped her bookmark between the pages of the book in her hand and set it down beside her, then grabbed the phone and unlocked it to check her notifications. It was a new text message. When she checked who it was from, all it said was Unknown.
Her heart skipped and she knew it was Jesus reaching out to her because of the ad she'd posted. She opened it and read:
5 months. Maybe more. TBD
That was it. She read it over and over, then searched for a way to reply with more questions, even though there was none. But she knew that even if she could contact Jesus like that, he didn't have the answers that she wanted. He didn't even really have answers. He was basically admitting it himself by saying "to be determined." She didn't know what that meant. Could it be six months? Longer? He had said "maybe more" and not "maybe less." Would she be able to lay low for that long? She deleted the message and set her phone back down, then opened her book again and tried to go back to reading despite the defeated weight on her chest.
Beth's mind kept wandering off to her family, to Jimmy, to Jesus, to Carol and Tara and Rosita and Clem and Enid. She had to keep rereading the same paragraphs over and over because she wasn't comprehending the words as her eyes scanned over them. When the sound of the front door distracted her completely, she realized how much time had passed and how dark the apartment was becoming.
Malachi's tiny feet thumped along the floor as he waddled his way around in excitement, and his voice could be heard soon after. Beth thought about getting up and closing her door to avoid any more conversations for the day, but she didn't want to seem obvious about it and come off as rude. However, neither Daryl or Malachi stopped to speak to her or got near her open door, so she continued reading while listening to them walk around the apartment.
After a few minutes, there was a knock on the front door and Malachi raced down the hall and around the kitchen to answer it. Beth looked up to see a flash of black, presumably Daryl, pass by outside her door, and then heard the front door open followed by Carol's voice soon after. A couple of seconds later, Daryl was standing outside her bedroom door.
"Hey, you busy?" He asked, looking in at her from behind the cracked door.
She slipped the bookmark into her book and set it down, getting up off the bed to walk to the door and open it. "No, what's up?"
Daryl seemed to be looking at her fully for the first time since he'd gotten home, because his eyes widened a little and she saw his gaze move across her new haircut before moving back to meet her eyes. "Carol's here – said ya forgot somethin' at her house."
Beth was confused for a second, then remembered that she'd taken out her earrings and never grabbed them on her way out. "Oh – my earrings? I forgot."
He nodded and she followed him back to the front door, where Carol was standing in the hall, waiting, with Sophia standing a few feet away. Carol's eyes brightened when she saw Beth and she approached, holding out her closed hand. Beth opened her own palm to take back her earrings.
"They were on the kitchen counter," Carol explained as she dropped the jewelry into Beth's waiting palm.
"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to grab 'em," Beth said, smiling as she pulled her hand back.
"No problem – oh, and Mal forgot t'grab this, but he was gonna give it to you," Carol said, pulling out a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handing it to Beth.
Beth unfolded it to find a toddler's crayon drawing, crude and messy and a little cryptic. But once she'd stared at it for a bit, she began to see that it was supposed to be a few stick figures, and one of them was holding a book.
"Aw – he drew this for me?" Beth asked, grinning and looking back up to Carol.
She nodded and smiled, "Yeah, he said you guys read together and I guess he just loved the way you did the voices."
Beth almost had tears in her eyes, glancing back down at the drawing. She heard Daryl's chuckle behind her.
"Wow, he must like you if he wanted t'draw ya," he commented.
"That's what I said," Carol agreed, still smiling, then glanced back at Sophia before adding, "Oh – and I think Rosita and Tara want you t'get a hold of them soon. You still have their number, right?"
Beth was surprised at this – even more surprised than she already was by the drawing – and almost felt overwhelmed. Why were all these strangers being so nice to her? She almost felt like it was some kind of elaborate trick, but her gut reassured her that wasn't likely and that her initial judgement of strangers was just off.
"Um – yeah. But why?" Beth replied, looking at Carol quizzically.
Carol shrugged. "Well, they probably wanna – I dunno, hang out with you, I'd assume. I'm sure they do other things together besides self-defense classes."
Beth nodded, feeling awkward with Daryl standing behind her and Carol's eyes on her. She mumbled, "Okay – thanks."
She saw Sophia on the other side of the hall, shifting her weight impatiently. She waved goodbye to Carol and turned to head back into the apartment, listening as Carol stepped closer to Daryl to tell him something.
"Oh, and I almost forgot t'tell you: Ally said she has time on Thursday night…" she heard Carol saying, even though she had lowered her voice. But that was all she heard before she'd walked back to her bedroom and out of earshot.
She silently wondered who Ally was, but quickly dismissed it as it had nothing to do with her. She put her earrings back in and checked her phone again. She heard the front door close and Daryl's footsteps crossing through the living room and past her bedroom. But they stopped and she turned around to see him standing in front of her open door.
She looked at him, raising her eyebrows expectantly. He scratched his head absent-mindedly and mumbled, "Haircut looks good on ya."
Beth stared blankly at him, caught by surprise and not sure how to respond. She smiled weakly and felt her cheeks warming up. "Thanks."
Daryl nodded and turned away quickly, heading back down the hall toward his bedroom to join Malachi. She waited a moment before leaving her bedroom again to search the kitchen for some tape. When she found it, she took a piece and returned to her room, shutting the door. She stuck the tape to the drawing that Malachi had made for her and hung it on the wall above her bed.
Despite her wariness and paranoia, Beth went to her phone and picked it up to scroll through her contacts list, stopping on Tara's phone number and staring at it for a few moments. She debated ignoring Carol's suggestion, but a part of her was curious to know what it was like to have normal friends in a somewhat normal setting. If nothing else, Daryl's neighbor was probably just trying to get the "poor abuse victim" out of the house for once and into some healthy socialization. Beth knew she was just trying to help, but she kind of resented her for it. On the other hand, she knew it probably was the healthiest thing she could do for herself right now. Being cooped up in the apartment all day and busying herself with nothing but TV, books, and obsessively checking her phone wasn't doing anything beneficial for her mental status.
With a sigh, Beth tapped on Tara's number and selected Create New Text Message. Her fingers hesitated over the screen for a second, and then she typed out:
Hey, it's Rosie. Carol said I should text you guys. What's up?
She hit Send and immediately set her phone back down, praying that the other girl wouldn't try to call her. She hated phone calls.
She went back to reading for the next half-hour, checking her phone every few minutes – but not for a reply from Tara, rather for updates on the news. The conversation with Carol had put her on edge, and the response from Jesus hadn't helped that feeling. She tried to focus her mind on the book, but she kept wondering when the next piece of information would come to light. It was only a matter of time before Rick Grimes either woke up or died, and then things would escalate even more. Not to mention, she was still waiting to hear any news on her family's court case.
A knock came at her door, but it wasn't from Daryl. She could tell by the sound that it was made my smaller hands, and coming from a lower height. She set her book aside and walked to the door to open it, finding Malachi standing before her, just as she'd expected. Daryl was standing nearby, in the kitchen, working on something. He looked over to discreetly watch Beth's interaction with his son.
"Um, hi," Malachi said, looking up at her with his big, blue eyes.
Beth smiled, "Hi! Look – I hung up your drawing!"
She turned and pointed to the wall above her bed and the toddler looked, his eyes lighting up when he saw it. He laughed and clapped his hands happily.
"Wow! I – I'll make you 'nother to – uh, um, 'morrow," he said excitedly.
"You gonna ask her, buddy?" Daryl called from the kitchen, listening in on the conversation from where he stood.
This seemed to jog Malachi's memory because his eyes lit up again and he looked at Beth seriously before asking, "Um, d-do y'wanna have dinner wit' us? And-an' then we can read…?"
Beth blushed a little, spotting Daryl from the corner of her eye as he glanced over and tried to remain discreet while he watched and waited for her answer. She nodded to Malachi.
"Absolutely," she told him. "I would love that."
The small, blond boy grinned and turned to run back to the kitchen and gleefully tell his father, "Dad, she said yeah!"
Daryl, Beth, and Malachi finished their dinners and settled in to read more chapters of Harry Potter. Halfway through, Daryl brought out ice cream for everyone, and Beth had to take breaks in between reading to eat hers. At one point, Daryl took over for almost an entire chapter, but Malachi noticed that Beth wasn't doing anything and requested that she read aloud instead. Daryl laughed but agreed with his son and they listened intently until it was nearly time for bed.
While Daryl took Malachi to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash up for bed, then to the bedroom to change and lie down, Beth put the book away and sat down on the couch to look at her phone for the first time since before dinner. She was surprised to find a text message from Tara and opened it quickly to read:
Hey dude! We wanted to invite you to hang out with us tomorrow night at Rosita's. Wanna come?
Beth replied with a simple, "Sure, what time? And send me the address" before checking the news sites again. She had to admit it felt pretty nice to have people who actually wanted to be in her presence, even if they didn't know much about her. And having a toddler's approval was especially gratifying.
She had planned on returning to her bedroom when they were done reading and hiding out for the rest of the night, but the couch had become much more comfortable than she'd expected and when Daryl returned from putting Malachi to bed, she was still sitting with her legs curled up, reading an article on her phone. She saw him head into the kitchen from the corner of her eye, but didn't pay any attention to what he was doing. When he finally returned and approached her, she looked up to find that he was holding two glasses in his hand, one of them held out for her to take.
"What's this?" She asked, sitting up and setting her phone aside before reaching up and taking the glass carefully. She lifted it to her nose and realized what it was before Daryl answered.
"Nightcap," he said, sitting down on the couch next to her. He had changed into pajama pants and a sleeveless shirt. He raised his glass up as if to toast.
Beth smirked and raised her own glass to carefully meet his, clinking them together gently before they each took their first sip. After Beth had swallowed the bitter liquid, finding it warming as it moved down to her stomach, she said, "Thanks."
Daryl nodded and reached for the TV remote, turning it on and flipping through the channels for a few minutes with the volume lowered. He sipped his drink occasionally, staring at the screen blankly. Beth cradled her own drink in her hands, glancing at Daryl every now and then, when she would move her head to take another drink. They sat in silence as they watched a rerun of Futurama, reaching the second commercial break before Daryl spoke.
"Made the kid's day by puttin' that drawin' on yer wall," he muttered right before raising his glass to his lips again to drain the last drops.
Beth smiled to herself and looked over to Daryl, but he was still staring at the TV with unfocused eyes. "Made my day that he drew it for me. I mean, he captured me really well, I can't help but be flattered."
She saw him smirk before he glanced at her, then showed his empty glass and asked, "Want another?"
She shrugged and handed over her own empty glass, "Sure, thanks."
While he was getting their refills, Beth checked her phone to see that she had another text from Tara. It was the time and address of Rosita's place. She took a moment to check her GPS and see how far she'd have to go and found that Rosita lived in the same area of the city, so it wouldn't be a long trek. She put her phone down just as Daryl was approaching with her glass held out again, which she took gratefully.
"So you gonna have a girls' night or somethin' with Tara an' Rosita?" He asked as he sat back down on the couch and sipped his drink.
"I dunno about girls' night, specifically," Beth chuckled. "But yeah, I guess they wanna hang out tomorrow… So, I s'pose I won't be here when you get home. Might be back after you've gone t'bed."
He shrugged. "You got the spare key. Just be careful."
She furrowed her brow. "With the girls?"
He shook his head with a smile. "No, with gettin' there and back. It'll be dark, it gets sketchy at night."
She almost laughed but stopped herself, remembering that he had no clue that she'd snuck out to take a cab ride to Harlem and meet with a complete stranger from the internet. Instead, she nodded, "I'll be fine. That's what the class is for, right?"
He side-eyed her jokingly. "Might need more than one to get… the desired results."
This time, she did laugh, and he joined her.
"Nah, ain't worried 'bout the girls. I've run with rougher crowds before," he went on. "'Sides, if you could survive Carol's interrogation today, y'should be fine."
Beth snorted. "Interrogation? Is that what you call her counseling, or therapy, or whatever it is?"
He shrugged and looked into her eyes, "You wouldn't?"
She rolled her eyes and smiled, "You're the one who got her started on me in the first place."
Daryl raised his eyebrows and waited for her to continue. She returned his look with disbelief.
"What? She interrogated that outta you, too?" Beth asked, half-joking.
He shrugged again and moved to stroking his chin thoughtfully, although it was beginning to look more like a nervous habit as he looked away from Beth's eyes while he spoke. "She… nah, she ain't nosey or nothin'. She was just – askin' about ya. She's a worrier when it comes to me an' Mal. She's the closest thing to a mom he's ever really had, so it's kinda – a little more complicated'n that. She could tell you were hidin' somethin', but I didn't tell her, actually. Mal told her. And then she asked me an'… well, I'm shit at lyin'."
Now Beth looked down to avoid making eye contact with Daryl, because he was checking to see her reaction or response. She muttered, "I wasn't tryin' to hide it. I just – didn't wanna make a fuss. I can be a little… paranoid sometimes, I guess."
He nodded, still avoiding eye contact as he took another sip of his drink before saying, "I wouldn't really call it paranoid… You just know how people can be. I get it."
Beth finally looked directly into Daryl's face again and waited for him to meet her eyes, and when he did, neither of them turned away.
"Yeah," she muttered, seeing the recognition in Daryl's dark blue eyes that said he understood that she was conveying more than just agreement.
His voice was low as he went on, "Carol just… doesn't get that. She thinks it's like demons y'can fight. Like ya just get the strength and the faith from some place deep down and work hard to be better… But it ain't always as easy as that. She's a fixer; she wants t'fix people. She wants t'save 'em from whatever big, bad guy is causing them harm, and teach 'em how to fight back an' be a survivor – but not everybody's a survivor... Some people just ain't made like that."
Beth's mouth was dry and she had a million different words she wanted to say in response, but none of them would form. Instead, she nodded, swallowing hard as she continued to stare back into the depths of Daryl's eyes. He was far more observant than she'd originally given him credit for, and she was scolding herself for having underestimated him.
His hand gripped his glass tightly. "Some people can't – be fixed. They don't wanna be helped, or saved, or shown the light. They just wanna be left alone… I don't think she gets that sometimes. Ya try t'help somebody, fix 'em, and they'll just turn around an' break you, too. It ain't worth it."
He ended this statement with a large swig from his glass, breaking eye contact with Beth. She glanced down at her wrist for a second before taking another drink as well.
"How d'you decide if somebody's broken or not…?" She muttered, her voice distant as she was still mulling over Daryl's words. He looked over at her again and blinked, furrowing his brow.
She thought he was going to speak but instead, he took another sip of his drink and sat up straighter, then looked her up and down as though he were making a judgment on her appearance. Then he said, "You know exactly the kinda people I'm talkin' about… You've loved 'em. And what'd they do to ya?"
Beth froze, mouth agape with an unspoken retaliation. Jimmy's face flashed in her mind and she realized that her mask of lies wasn't such a mask after all. She had been putting up a wall made of bricks taken from her own pain, but Daryl could see her standing atop it, plain as day.
"Maybe they didn't break ya, but they sure as hell fucked you up," he finished.
Or perhaps Daryl was relating to her with his own personal experience, saying the things she could only think when she was talking to Carol.
"Maybe," she mumbled, her voice weak as she thought about Jimmy and about what Carol had told her of Daryl's ex earlier. "Or maybe we just… don't understand 'em enough to know how to fix 'em. I can – well, I can see why Carol wants to try t'understand and help."
Daryl scoffed, and his voice was bitter as he said, "Broken people just make damaged people. An' damaged people can only be hurt so much 'fore they're broken, too… It's just a big cycle of bullshit."
He looked away from her to take another swig and she watched his face soften. Beth took a small sip of her own drink before clearing her throat and letting out a soft chuckle in an attempt to lighten the tension that had formed around them.
"So, what, you're sayin' I'm one of these – these damaged people?" She asked, a small smirk on her face as if it were a joke.
Daryl looked at her once more, but he didn't return the smile, and she suddenly felt small and naked under his gaze. Then he muttered, almost sadly, "Takes one t'know one."
to be continued…