Chapter 3

The days went by slowly for Daryl. He didn't know how long a background check took, but it felt like forever. He constantly checked his cell phone. He worried about missing her call, that his shitty phone had died, that she would call and just tell him to never come back. It seemed unending, the ways in which this all could go horribly wrong. As if by ruminating on all the different shitty endings he could somehow avoid them. He never let his pleasurable thoughts go too far- that was courting a whole different level of possible disappointment. Once, he let an idea creep into his head about what it would be like to sit on her couch. Which led to thoughts of watching her big TV. Which led to thoughts of living with her, which he shut down almost immediately. Almost. He tried to keep his fantasies to simple things; the breathy way she said his name, the softness of her hands, her smell. Things he could actually enjoy again- if she didn't get spooked by his arrest record.

She got the copy of his record back on Tuesday and gave him a call that evening after she had put the boys to bed. A little quiver of nerves hit her stomach, and she downed a glass of wine for confidence. 'Jesus Christ girl, you would think I was 16 years old again' she thought, her fingers shaking while dialing his number.

Although it was almost 11pm, he picked up almost at once. "Hello?"

"Hey sugar, it's me, May." His mouth went dry and his palms went wet. Her voice was a little deeper on the phone and a little shiver went down his back. "I got your papers back from the sheriff's office, and you look pretty good to me."

"Good ain't exactly what I call my record."

"That is true. You have been a very naughty man Daryl. But nothing I can't handle." Was she doing it on purpose? Her voice, her tone, the words she chose. It felt like she was flirting with him, but maybe that was just her way. He didn't really know her that well- maybe she always sounded flirty on the phone. God knows she wouldn't really be flirting with him. She wasn't mean like that.

"Yeah... well if you say so. When you want me commin' by?"

"How about Friday? 9am ok with you?

"Yeah, that's fine. Later."

"Bye Daryl." She hung up and felt like a fool, having spent the days ruminating on their potential conversation, assuming he would open up more over the phone. 'He's probably into leather wearing biker chicks, not some gross middle aged single mom. God, what the fuck was I thinking?' She slid off the couch and headed to bed, chiding herself the whole way. She decided that maybe they could still be friends- if he would let her. 'Why would a guy that handsome ever want me? I'm such a fucking idiot.'

A quarter mile away Daryl lay in his bed, about as happy as he had been in a very long time. He had a loop of things not to do playing in his head, trying to keep himself from getting too happy about the whole situation. 'Don't stare, she'll think you're a creepy fuck. Do as you're told. Don't get too comfortable...' the list went on and on; like a depressing pep talk. And when he was finally able to sleep he pulled his pillow to his chest, cradling it gently- like a woman he didn't want to let go of.

He approached the house about 10 minutes to 9, nervous and unsure. He could hear music, with May softly singing along. At the end of the song he knocked, and she opened after a moment. She seemed different, her smile was drawn and she didn't have that same bounce to her that she had before.

"You are a little early. Come on in. I just got the boys off to school." He followed her haltingly, his hands wrapped securely around his chest. "You want something to eat? I made waffles and theirs a ton left."

"Why you keep tryin' to feed me? You think I can't feed myself?" There was the hostility again, but he didn't meet her eyes; only a few darting looks up from his shoes.

She gave short, dry laugh and told him to sit. "You ever hear of food insecurity?" He shook his head. She gestured toward the coffee and he nodded. She busied herself with the pouring. "It's when you lack a stable food source for an extended period. It does damage to adults in a multitude of ways. But in children it's even worse." He mulled over what she must think of him. What she might have heard. Weather this whole job situation was just another act of Christian charity. It wouldn't be the first. It was just a question of how much he could take; of the religion, of the pity. She sat down across from him at the table, handed him a cup, and he steadied himself. "I won't give you a bunch of detail you probably don't give a shit about, but I grew up in the country and I grew up rough. I didn't really understand it until I was an adult, the ways it had affected me. Why I would eat and eat and eat. I got pretty fat for a while, though clearly I lost most of it. I worked through some shit. Anyway, my point being that I still obsess over food, just not as much. I always buy too much, cook too much. So it's up to you, eat or watch me toss it on the fertilizer pile. Foods on the counter, plates on the shelf, help yourself."

He got up slowly and made his way behind her into the kitchen. When he came back around, his plate had all the leftover food on it, piled high. "I'm the ones gunna' get fat, you keep feedin' me like this."

She laughed, a little lighter now. "Not the way I'm going to work you. Now eat, your gunna' need it." They worked the morning away in the back yard. It was still cold, but they soon worked up a sweat, clearing blackberry bushes, saplings, and rocks out of the wild expanse. After a couple of hours May got her hair caught in some brambles. She pulled and cursed to high heaven, but was stuck pretty well. She heard him behind her, voice soft. "Easy, easy." She felt his hand on her back, then in her hair. He had taken off his work gloves and gently eased each strand out and away of the thorns. "Alright, you're free."

She pulled out her ponytail holder, then worked some small pieces out with her fingers. "Thanks. Ow! Shit!"

"Damn it woman, come here." He ran his fingers through her hair, working out the smaller brambles. Her hair smelled like scratch n' sniff strawberries, and more than once he leaned in and took a deep breath of its scent. When he was satisfied, he pulled his gloves back on and gave a short bark; "Alright."

She felt sheepish. "Thanks. Sorry, I'm a dumbass."

"You aint' a dumbass. Just try to keep your head on straight."

"Yes sir, I'll try."

"Shut up." But he smiled, and so did she, and it made the whole thing a little easier. They worked up an easy rhythm of working together, and by 2 pm she called it a day. "Oh. Oh my god. Daryl, I think I'm going to die." They had had small interactions throughout the day, not so much an ongoing conversation with words, but small gestures and short remarks to make the other laugh. He insisted on carrying all the heavy loads, and even tried to talk her out of helping at all, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"You'll survive. You're a tough girl." He followed her inside, and accepted a glass of water.

"You coming by tomorrow?" She had noticed him walking stiff, digging one set of fingers again and again into lower back, a grimace cutting into his face when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Naw, but I'll be here on Sunday to finish up those thorn bushes, if that's alright."

"Yeah, that's fine. I won't be able to help you though, the kids will be here and there still too little to watch after themselves."

"You mean you won't be gettin' in my way." He had a little smirk on his face, and he dared to look her in the eye.

"Daryl Dixon, are you sassing me?"

"No Ma'am, I'm just tellin' it how it is."

"Nope, I'm pretty sure that sass. But I'm going to let it slide because you worked like a dog today and I appreciate it." He downed the rest of his water and left the glass on the counter. He turned away and headed for the door. "I'll see you on Sunday then?"

"Yep."

"See you later sugar." He loved it when she called him sugar. He turned and smiled, giving her a little awkward wave before heading out the door. He would have come on Saturday, and every day of the week if she would have him. But his back was threatening to give out on him and sure as hell wasn't going to fall apart in front of her. He spent the next day on his back, letting it heal, and read his favorite comics again for the millionth time.

When Sunday came he approached with halting feet and his hands in his pockets. There was a little boy on the porch, five or six years old, rubbing his nose and looking upset. "Hi. Are you Mr. Dixon?"

"Yeah... but, um, just call me Daryl." He sat down slowly next to the boy, hands folded.

"Mama says I'm to call you Mr. or Sir." Daryl could feel, more than see, the little boys darting looks. "I'm supposed to tell you something."

"What's that little man?"

"I broke the garbage disposal."

"Yeah? And?"

"You gotta fix it." The boy wiped his nose on one sleeve and his eyes on the other.

"So what you cryin' about? I'm the one's gotta fix it."

"Mama's gunna' make me paint her toenails cuz I shoved all my play dough down the sink." The boy became emphatic, little hands waving. "But its Alfie's fault! He told me to do it! He said it would come out the other side like a play dough press but it didn't!"

Daryl stifled a smile under one hand. "An' who is Alfie?"

"My older brother." This was starting to hit a little close to home. "Come on kid, let's talk to your Mama. Maybe she'll let you help me fix the disposal- how about that for a punishment?"

The boy lit up fireworks. "Yes! Yes! Can I?"

"Whoa there kid, if your gunna' convince your Mama, you may want to tune it down a little bit."

"Yeah, got it. Thanks Mr. Daryl."

He let out a deep sigh and followed the boy into the house, ready for a bit of a dust up with May. She moved around the kitchen like a bird, the smells of hot breakfast filling the room. Another boy of about seven sat on the couch watching cartoons.

"Mama! Mama! Mr. Daryl is here!"

"What did I tell you about being respectful Hap?"

"But you said Mr. and Daryl said to say Daryl so I did both."

He ran up and hugged her legs, and she broke out in a grin. "As long as you asked. Now, did you tell him why you stormed out of the house a minute ago?" The boy nodded and dug his face into her leg. She looked to Daryl, still hanging out near the front door. "Sorry to hit you with a new project as soon as you get here. Will you eat with us?" He nodded, wiping clammy hands on his pants, and headed for the table. "Sit anywhere, doesn't matter. Alfie? Alfie! Get over here!"

He sat in the middle of the small square table. The smaller boy sat next to him, grinning. "Ima' sit here next to you, ok?" Daryl nodded, running his palms over his pants legs. The older boy sat across from him, eyes still glued to the TV across the room. May started scooping huge piles of scrambled eggs onto each plate, leaving little room for the toast and bacon sitting on their serving dishes at the table. All of sudden it felt like too much. Like the walls were closing in and he needed to get out. This had happened before- he just needed to ride it out. He took a deep breath and pulled away from the table.

"Where you off to Sugar?" He cut a glance at May and her brows where knitted.

He couldn't look at her too long and kept heading for the door. "Smoke, I'll be back." He got to the porch, pulled out his pack, and lit one up. He paced, waiting for the rhythm of smoking to calm his nerves. 'It's just eggs and a couple of kids you dumb fuck. Pull your head out of your ass.' But he knew it wasn't that easy. He could hear the voice of Merle in his head, berating him, as always. That he would get attached; to the woman, to the kids. That she wasn't the kind to be into dirty rednecks- just some uppity bitch. Then he would be out of a job and be a mopey asshat about it. Merle would tell him to work there until he fucked her, then ditch asap. But he could also hear his uncle's voice in his head saying; 'Well what do you want boy? Not what your dumbass brother wants for ya?' Uncle Jess would tell him to fight- or he didn't deserve it in the first place. Daryl could hear May and the kids talking in the background, the little one- Hap?- asking his Mama if Daryl was coming back. Alfie berating him for it. And suddenly he couldn't be outside anymore. Nothing in the world was more important than going back inside that goddamn house. He ground out the cigarette, threw it in the yard, and headed back inside.

Little Hap turned out to be quite chatty, which was fine with Daryl. The older boy seemed much less trusting, but was very interested when he learned that Hap was going to be allowed to help take apart the garbage disposal. The three of them worked for a couple of hours, taking it apart, cleaning it out, and putting it back together. And when Daryl went out back to work on the shrubs, they followed him like little ducks. He let them help a little, and around 1pm May called out the back for lunch.

She leaned towards him as the boys headed to the bathroom to wash up. "Daryl, I should be paying you babysitting money too."

"Naw, their good boys. Just wanna help."

"Well they sure do like you well enough. Alfie really hasn't taken to anyone..." She paused just a breath, but it was enough for him to notice. "...since their father died." She put on a good 'company is here' type of smile and kept going. "And it's good for them to get off the couch, they watch way too much TV."

"Don't knock TV, it sure raised me."

"Well it did a bang up job of it then, because you were a miracle worker with that garbage disposal. It works better than it did before. And since you took the kids all morning, I was able to catch up on laundry. So thanks."

"It's nuthn'" He mumbled, chewing his fingernail again. But he had that half grin on his face and she accepted that he seemed happy with the situation.

"Mama! Can we watch cartoons while we eat lunch?" Hap was yanking so hard on her jeans that they threatened to come off.

"Yes, I suppose, since Daryl said you were so helpful today."

"Daryl! You wanna watch cartoons with us? There's this great one about a red truck..."

"Hap, I'm sure Daryl doesn't want to watch cartoons."

"It's cool, I love cartoons. Why don't you tell me about it?

"Alfie! Alfie! Daryl's gunna' watch cartoons with us!" Alfie followed Hap to the couch and helped his little brother up. May brought their food to the table and they ate; Alfie hushing Hap whenever he started talking too much.