Opie's POV

Kenny was a lot more forgiving than Ellie was.

Dinner-time was a drag. I tried my best to ask the right questions. Nothing seemed to be good enough, though. I was never good at communicating in the first place, and five years in prison definitely didn't improve the matter.

I cracked through Kenny's barrier as soon as I asked him about his favorite cartoons. He was trusting and forgiving, like Donna. But Ellie had inherited the steel wall around her thoughts and emotions from me and Dad - and as much as I knew Dad and myself, nothing could break that wall. She barely answered any of my questions, about school, about friends, about what she liked to do. I didn't know why I even bothered - Donna had already told me everything in her monthly letters.

Donna suggested I should give Kenny a bath. So I did. I got the impression she was trying to do as much as possible to get me out of her sight for a while, but maybe I was just being paranoid. If she didn't want me around, she would have left by now.

Kenny jabbered on and on about some video game he liked. It had a weird name, and all the animals in it had weird names.

"And then there's Torchic, who is my favorite, and he is like a baby chick, but he's orange and can do fire stuff…"

I stared at him, holding the jug of water in mid air. Then I dunked it on his head to wash out the shampoo. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head violently, water splashing all over the bathroom - and me.

"Whoa, watch it, Ken." I raised my arm to try and shield myself from the water. Not like I wasn't drenched enough as it was…

"It's in my eyes!" He squealed, flapping around.

I threw a towel at him, feeling hot under the collar. "Wipe them, then."

He wiped his face quickly then looked at me with already bloodshot eyes from the shampoo that went in them. Oh shit. "You really did get some in there, didn't ya?" I said lightly, trying to make a joke out of it. At least it made me feel a bit better for getting mad - shampoo stings like a bitch.

Kenny nodded, quieter now than he was before. Maybe he thought I was mad at him.

"So what's this Torchkick you were talking to me about? Sounds like a ginger chicken, if you ask me." I tried to cheer him up by distracting him. It worked well. Of course it did - he's a guy.

He started laughing. "No, Daddy, it's not a ginger chicken. It's called Torchic, and it can do fire stuff. But if you choose it, you have to be careful, because my rival will choose the water one, and that means it can easily beat you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a little too young to have rivals?"

"Nope. I have lots and lots of rivals, everywhere."

"How did you get so many rivals at your age?"

He gave a shrug. "I don't even know what it means."

I grunted. He was a funny kid. Naïve, that was for sure. I didn't know if it was to do with his age, or whether that was just who he was.

He began jabbering about another game this time. At least, I think it was - I couldn't talk that long about one subject, and I was too busy trying to dry him and the soaking bathroom to really listen. I don't think I even said anything in response, but fuck, that didn't seem to put him off talking.

As soon as I dressed Kenny and towel-dried his hair (causing him to complain over and over that I was being 'too rough'), I tucked him into bed and said goodnight, then went downstairs to tell Donna.

Donna looked up at me from the sofa, her arm around Ellie. She nodded. "Thanks, Opie." She looked at Ellie and asked her quietly, "Will you be ok down here?"

I don't think I was supposed to hear, so I pretended I didn't as I sat down in my armchair. My nice, comfy armchair. At least my armchair didn't need to be asked a bunch of meaningless questions in order for me to get into it.

Ellie must have given Donna the all-clear, because she went upstairs and Ellie stayed put on the couch in her pink pajamas and fluffy slippers. I looked over at her while she bowed her head and fiddled with a pink bow holding her plait together at the bottom.

I lit a much needed cigarette and looked over at Ellie. She looked so much like my mom, it was unbelievable. "Don't you ever take those plaits out?" I asked her.

My sudden question didn't stir her. She didn't lift her head, but said quietly, "Sometimes."

"Bet it's real long."

She simply nodded. Nothing more.

Damn kids.

"Bet it goes all curly and stuff," I pushed on, like a wounded solider on the front line. That was probably less work.

Well, no one can say I didn't try.

"It goes wavy," she corrected me.

"Ah."

Silence. Donna came down the stairs, much quieter than I ever could; I seemed to make a drum solo every time I came down them. I looked at her. "Ellie was just telling me her hair goes all wavy when those plaits get taken out. Weren't you, Ellie?"

Ellie said nothing. I felt a sudden urge to shake her like a doll and yell, "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY, OK?!"

Donna sat herself beside Ellie and pulled her into a hug. Ellie responded and cuddled into her chest. I wished I could do that, and I couldn't wait till later when Donna and I could settle into bed together. Have some alone time for the first time.

"It sure does go all wavy," Donna said. "It's absolutely adorable."

Ellie smiled shyly, cheeks going a little pink. Donna's did that whenever I used to tell her how beautiful she was, or how much I loved her. It was rare that I did, but I figured it would make it special when I did say it. Unless that was my justification for not saying it often. Who knows?

I figured it was going to be a while until Donna and I would get to be alone when she turned the volume up on the television to watch some Soap Opera. I hated Soap Operas and couldn't understand why anyone would want to watch depressing plot lines and cheesy affairs between every character in one place.

"I need to put my bike in the garage," I said while standing.

Donna looked up at me. There was some look in her eyes, but I couldn't make out what it was. Longing? Maybe she didn't want me to go; maybe she wanted me.

I wanted to slap myself. Stupid male brain. Of course she didn't want to fuck me right then. A nod of her head confirmed that, and I felt a pang of disappointment, despite the stupidity of it.

"Ok," she said, then turned back to the television.

Whatever she had thought at that moment was now gone. I picked up the key from the hook and unlocked the garage door, all the while wondering how the fuck I was supposed to get myself out the deep shit I was already in.