Brand New Heavy
Monday
Daryl and Rick race through morning traffic siren silent, lights flashing…side swiping cars and riding on the shoulder when necessary. The tires burn rubber against the asphalt of the cul-de-sac bringing the squad car to an abrupt stop before Rick's passenger door flies open. His boots thud against the front brick pathway. He shoves the house key tightly gripped in his fist into the lock barreling through the solid ebony front door, "Michonne!" he bellows. No answer. "'Chonne…where are you?" The heavy sound of his boots echo off the walls as he makes his way up the stairs turning right toward their bedroom; he breathes a sigh of relief bending at the waist and resting his hands on his knees. "Daryl, I found her. Tell dispatch to stand down," he requests into the radio secured on his shoulder.
Michonne's sleeping body lies flat against the bed in her green jersey maternity dress with the scoop neckline. One shoe is on her foot and the other is still grasped loosely in her hand. She mumbles in her sleep, "I need cookies." Rick smiles and shakes his head before walking over to wake her. He strokes the radiant skin of her cheek with the back of his fingers. She opens her eyes slowly, "Hey," she sighs, "Did I over sleep?" she utters still groggy.
"Gorgeous, you fell back asleep getting ready for work. Maybe we need to start maternity leave."
She rolls onto her left side, "Noo…I need cookies," she rambles never fully awake.
Rick retrieves his phone, "Aaron…I found her safe and sound…she will not be in today. I know…fingers crossed." He disconnects and makes another call, "Ma…what's your day?"
"Is everything okay? Michonne…the babies?" she attempts to keep panic out of her voice.
"They are fine but she is exhausted. Do you mind checking on her in a couple of hours?"
Jolene exhales in relief, "Already packed and ready for duty. Are we still using the same craving list?"
"More or less…she keeps mumbling about cookies," she cuts him off by calling out.
"Hey Pa-Pa…the babies want cookies."
"On it," Jeffrey yells in response.
Tuesday
Judith carefully places lady bugs on the variety of butterfly friendly flowers in the back and front yard. The young family took advantage of Spring Break to move into their new home. All the windows are open allowing the freshly painted walls to dry and relieve the house of the distinct smell. She smiles thinking about all their plans. Her thoughts are interrupted by an unfamiliar voice, "Hello and welcome to the neighborhood. Are your parents available? I would like to introduce myself."
She rises from her crouched position, "Aaron, Eric…neighbor!"
"Erin and Eric…so nice to have a traditional family back in the neighborhood," the neighbor replies with a smile.
Eric descends the porch steps, "Hello," he greets extending his hand.
She returns the handshake but snatches her hand away once Aaron joins the pair, "Mrs., she stops abruptly, you are both men."
They glance at each other preparing for the standard homophobic diatribe.
"Are you trying to say something is wrong with my dad's?" the young voice behind her questions.
"You are too young to understand and I am sure you have not had the benefit of the word of God to lead you," she explains.
"You're would be wrong…Ms. Lonette told me to follow the Golden Rule because God does not like ugly." She is ruining our day. We are supposed to be happy.
Wednesday
Lori rocks from side to side in her chair staring at the illuminated screen. Her Face book outreach failed spectacularly. Jessie was right…no one will come. She uses her thumb to push her ring back and forth against her finger. Out of frustration she switches to the honeymoon tab and a smile grows across her face…destination wedding. Visions of glamorous beaches and resort amenities splashed across the life and style section of 'The Gazette' dance behind her eyes.
One hour later she shuts down her desktop reaching over to retrieve pages from the printer. Inadvertently her hand knocks against the device and a clink sounds against the hardwood planks. She squints in confusion before looking down. Her eyes widen in shock staring at her engagement stone helpless against the floor. She pulls her hand before her eyes to make sure she is not imagining things. Why would the setting not hold?
Thursday
Andrea stands in the window of the upstairs bedroom room allowing the highlight version of her life to play on repeat behind her eyes. She clawed her way out of a generic reality to a lifestyle of decadence and debauchery. Philip oozed power, influence and he used both to lure and seduce the willing and vulnerable. Power and money led her to his bed and the top of the food chain. She never considered consequences because they never came…until now.
"Done…every item is priced for a quick sale. We can access the liquidated funds through the account hidden by the new LLC in my name," he explains.
"Mhm…when can we leave?"
"Tonight, although I wish you would re-consider flying to Vegas rather than this ridiculous, long drive."
She sighs and turns her eyes to the ceiling, "How many ways do I have to repeat myself? I cannot run the risk of being seen or having to answer questions of that stubborn reporter, Wallace. He is my Chucky…popping up asking questions, drawing attention. I need a fresh start away from this madness and he is determined to further my shame. Given his hit job on you I thought you would understand."
Mike takes a drag, "Fine, let's head out. Las Vegas is the perfect sweet spot for us to start over. We can have the veneer of respectability while we stack paper in the dark shadows."
Friday
Milton accepts the collect call from the correctional facility, "Blake I terminated our business partnership please refrain from contacting my office."
"Look you scrawny, little maggot. I need to know what is going on…nothing makes sense."
"Not true…everything makes perfect sense. The chickens came home to roost. You plundered, abused, lied and disregarded anything and every person to cross your path. Your thrill ride is over because you clearly fucked with the wrong person or people…who knows."
"I cannot hire an attorney to file a decent appeal. I meet with a public defender tomorrow which only means more jail time because all they will offer is some sort of bogus plea deal. Every account is frozen and every property has a lien filed which means I cannot get liquid. I do not even have ten cents on the books. I may have to resort to working within these bars like some sort of indentured servant. Someone is responsible…at least give me a name. Maybe I can make a deal."
"You were a loyal and lucrative customer. Consider this a professional courtesy…Andre Wilson."
Saturday
Daryl and Rick slowly stroll each aisle of the grocery store. "I'm telling you I am dealing with 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'. This is not my Sasha," he rants in a hushed tone.
Rick nods in agreement, "I still don't get it…you ate the food. She asked you to eat the food."
"Exactly…how was I supposed to know to respond on them little notes; I thought they were just telling me what I was eating. She kept fussin' at me about pairings and then she is yelling about me not caring enough about our day before asking me what I really wanted and how I really felt."
Rick stops walking not moving the grocery cart, "Please tell me you did not answer?"
"What…she said she wanted the truth."
He looks at his friend, "What foolishness did you let fly out of your mouth?"
"I started strong…I love you more than anything but then I may have suggested a pig roasting pit in the backyard since the planning was causing so much stress," Daryl cringes reliving the conversation.
"Yeah, you need to stay out the house for awhile. If Aretha Franklin is playing when you get back…enter at your own risk."
"What about you?" Daryl watches his friend load the cart with vanilla ice cream, sweet potato chips, honey, caramel chips and cans of Hershey chocolate whip cream.
"Hormones and pregnancy brain but you did not hear that from me. I am hoping my babies will help daddy out and let me bribe my way off and this is a direct quote…her last good nerve."
Daryl scratches the back of his head, "Pops has been doing this most of his life. How is he not crazy?"
Rick resumes his steps, "My dad too…maybe they have a flow chart or something."
Aaron answers the knock at the front door preparing for the worst. Michonne warned him about the neighbor but he was confident it was all hyperbole. "Good evening."
"Hi, my name is Cherie. I wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to the neighborhood," she smiles warmly.
"Thank you…let me get my partner…his name," she cuts him off.
"Eric…I heard. By the way is your daughter Jude home. I was hoping to get a pinwheel for my house too."
"Hey Eric," he stops and turns back to his guest, "Pinwheel?"
"Yeah," she points toward the street. Aaron steps out on the small porch and looks down the street. Most of the front lawns are decorated with small rainbow colored pinwheels. He is vaguely aware of the conversation behind him.
"Jude," what did she do? He turns just as she arrives with a cellophane package in her right hand. He watches the exchange.
The new neighbor waves from the sidewalk. Before either asks she starts talking, "Mrs. U-G-L-Y was messing everything up so I fixed it. See," she points to the right and left. "Most of the neighborhood likes our family. I will not sneak out again but I wanted it to be a surprise and I told you I did not need all that snack money," she shrugs.
"Doesn't seem like a punishable offense to me."
"No more sneaking out."
"Promise," Judith responds with her fingers crossed behind her back.