Sorry if some of this doesn't make sense. I had a three year old in my lap writing most of it.
She had been so stupid, so stupid, to think that she actually had a chance at a somewhat normal relationship with Daryl. Obviously, any sense of normalcy was something that just didn't belong in her life. After he had run out on her, not that she really blamed him for it, it was actually quite the contrary, she had tried her best to keep the tears at bay, telling herself she didn't get to cry anymore, and crawled into bed. The next morning, as the sun was rising, Jackson hopped on top of her, earning an "oof" from Beth's mouth as he pounced on top of her stomach.
"Time to get up mama!" He had exclaimed, all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Beth had internally groaned while trying to delicately explain to him that she wasn't feeling too well. Luckily, after a quick call to Tara, Beth got the day off but that thought didn't help the mommy guilt eating away at her gut. She felt like shit for pretty much pawning off her kid but she also didn't want him to see her so down in the dumps.
Beth didn't leave her bed that day, except to use the bathroom, and she fought off Tara every time the girl tried to get her to eat something. The angel disguised as a babysitter stayed much later than she should have, long after Jackson was asleep, crawling into bed beside Beth and sat there silently while they both watched a some stupid parody movie on Beth's tablet, and then she left after a yawn and a stretch, hugging Beth close and whispering a good night.
There would be progress the next morning, because at least she would make it out of bed and take a shower. She stayed in until the scorching water ran ice cold making her skin prick and turn red. Shivering, she dried off and got into a comfy pair of jeans and a simple tank top. After pulling on her favorite pair of cowboy boots, she went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Despite having lounged around in bed the day before, she slept like shit and actually felt like the walking dead, so she was in desperate need of caffeine.
It didn't take long for the brewed beans to perk her up and for that she was grateful because Jackson came running into the kitchen, always a bundle of energy ready to burst. "What are we doin' today mom?"
Beth feigned being deep in thought, a finger tapping against her chin. "Hmm..." Then she held her finger up in the air, eyes going wide. "I've got it!" The little boy in front of her giggled. "How about we go to the park?" Jackson nodded eagerly. "And then...ice cream?"
"Yes!" Beth laughed at his enthusiasm, happy to have her boy around to get her to smile.
"Oh well, I don't know...you don't seem all that excited about it. We don't have to, I guess." The poor boy looked as if she just told him Santa Claus wasn't real.
"No mommy! I am excited, I swear! I really want ice cream!" Beth patted him on the back.
"Well in that case, you better go get dressed." He didn't say anything else as he ran back to his bedroom in his Thomas the Train pjs, feet sliding quickly across the hardwood floors.
They had walked to the park, Jackson pretty much dragging Beth behind him as she purposely walked slower, enjoying seeing the boy get all riled up. "Hurry up mom!" She chuckled and resumed her normal speed. It wasn't as if the park would disappear before they got there. When they had reached their destination, there wasn't any need to shoo Jax off to go play, as he was already running full speed towards the jungle gym as soon as it came into sight.
Beth got comfortable on a bench a few feet away from the rubber flooring of the playground and sighed. She actually had to resist the urge to pull out her phone and send a text to Daryl. It wasn't as if they had really communicated that way before all too much, due to Daryl's out of date model, and besides - what would she even say? Somehow 'I'm sorry that I'm basically just a whore' didn't quite have the greatest ring to it, and as a matter of fact, she was not sorry. She had done what she needed to do, what was right for herself and her son, and that was something she would never be apologetic for, even with how much it hurt to lose Daryl. She contemplated their time together, immediately lost in the thoughts, the good memories that immediately came to mind. It wasn't as if he had even been in her life for long, but that was one of Beth's problems, getting too easily attached, and she was without a doubt attached to Daryl. In the short whirlwind romance, she had felt in her heart that she had really gotten to know the gruff intimidating man. She knew underneath that hardened exterior he was a good man, one with a big heart, one who was sensitive, one who honestly cared and that's what made the whole situation so painful. If he had been an indecent person, he wouldn't have pushed her off of him that night. He would have continued on until he gotten what many men had dreamed of, and Beth would have let him. She obviously was no virgin, obviously not by a long shot, but as far as sex for pleasure was concerned, she had only been with one boy and it was completely lackluster and almost embarrassing to think about, but then it did bring her the best gift she could have ever been given. And yet somehow, she knew that things with Daryl would have been completely different, but sadly she hadn't gotten the chance and now she was sure she'd never really know.
Watching her son run around with the other kids, giggling and playing a game that looked to be some variation of tag, Beth knew that she had made the right decisions, and she would continue on with her 'career' until she could come up with something better.
The days following were easier to deal with, Daryl not crossing her mind quite as often, but when Saturday rolled around and she was due to return to work, she found herself seriously considering a spur of the moment vacation, heading out anywhere that would get her far away from there, but she trudged on, biting anxiously at her fingernails until the black polish on them was chipped away at the tips. When she pulled into the parking lot and saw his motorcycle in the parking lot, she stopped clinging to the hope that maybe he had called in sick. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Daryl, it was that she didn't want to see him like this. Still, she took a deep breath and tried to plaster on a smile as she made her way inside.
Luck might have still been slightly on her side that day, because she never managed to run into Daryl and she got a strong feeling that maybe the man was avoiding her. It stung, just a little bit when she thought about it, but focused on the task at hand - bringing home a cushy paycheck for her kid.
Daryl's week had slightly differed from Beth's. Not one to lounge around in bed all day, he got out. Ain't like he was some social butterfly or somethin', but he grabbed his crossbow and headed out into the woods, hoping to catch some game, his mind and body sick of spending so much money on ramen noodles and potato chips. He came up empty handed on his hunt, unable to focus on anything besides the carefree blonde that plagued his every thought. He was angry at first, that this woman, the one who had his insides all torn up, could completely take over his life. But then that anger melted away to something unfamiliar to the redneck, something that might have felt a little bit like longing. Daryl had never longed for anything in his whole life, not knowing what he would pine for, but now that he had found something he had wanted with pretty much every fiber of his being, fate had decided it wasn't right for him. The regular work week went by quickly, Daryl finding it somewhat easier to clear his mind while he was elbow deep underneath the hood of a car.
When Saturday rolled around, things got harder when he realized it was probably inevitable that he see Beth, he settled on trying to get shit faced. Alcohol had been a dear old friend to him before, so why would it stop now? But it had, because sitting in one of the trendier crowded bars in the area after having successfully avoided Beth all day at work, Daryl still couldn't manage to escape her. A song would come on over the speakers that he remembered her singing along to in his truck, or he'd see a flash of flowing blonde hair so similar to the locks he had wanted to wrap around his wrist, or someone would walk by smelling similar to her and at that point he knew he must have been out of his mind because surely in this bar with a stench of beer and the lingering smell of cigarettes, he wouldn't be able to pick out the distinct scent of fresh laundry, plain soap, and peaches. It had surprised him, how he couldn't seem to escape her no matter what he decided to do, so he decided soon he would call it a night.
After polishing off a bottle of whiskey by himself, feeling like a complete fucking loser, Daryl headed back to his place. He groaned when he heard voices inside, glancing at the lock that had obviously been picked. It could only mean one thing - Merle. Daryl had been staying away from his brother for the most part, not out of avoidance, but just lack of time and apparently big bro didn't like that one bit. Daryl pushed open the door to the shit hole he called home and was surprised to find that Merle was there, but not with other people like Daryl had assumed. The voices he had been hearing were coming from the old television that was usually more of a piss poor excuse for a decoration, and the voices weren't talking, there were grunts, moans, and squeaks instead. "Hey baby brother!" Merle smiled at him a lie, there was no real happiness behind that smirk. "Hope you don't mind, made myself right at home!" Indeed he had, because his legs were propped up on the coffee table that looked about ready to collapse, and he was leaning back against the thread bare couch with his arms spread across the sunken cushions.
Daryl grunted a hello to him, turning his attention back to the offensive images flashing across the screen. A flash of blonde, those pink lips in the shape of an O, head thrown back, and eyes screwed shut. Daryl's blood ran cold and his voice came out thick. "Fuck! Turn that shit off!" Quickly he got to the television, stumbling over his feet a little as he reached to pull the plug out of the socket.
"I's watchin' that!" Merle hollered at him, back now straight and hands up in the air. Daryl didn't reply, instead tried to focus on regulating his breathing, willing himself to calm down. Merle seemed to sense Daryl's discomfort and took advantage. "I mean, Jesus, you ain't a fag or somethin', right?" Daryl glared, his breath coming out in shallow pants. "Cause damn, that girl is one fine piece, lemme tell you." Except, Merle didn't get the chance to tell, surely what would have been the things he would've like to do to her because in a few short strides, Daryl was above him, swinging his fist right into his brother's jaw.
Thoughts? :)