There's only a few more chapters or so to go in this one.
I hope you enjoy! If you do enjoy, please do let me know!
111
Daryl was glad it was Sunday morning. Any other day of the week, and Merle would have had to call in sick. The whiskey that he'd drank to excess the night before had knocked him out, but the hangover that came with the morning was brutal.
Daryl secretly reveled, just a tiny bit, in his brother's suffering. He normally would not have enjoyed seeing anyone suffer, but Merle sometimes deserved it, and Daryl thought there was hardly a human being alive that would disagree with him on that point.
Of course, the hangover would have meant that Merle wasn't in any condition to go to work. He would have had to call in sick—because he was sick—to nurse the hangover caused by his own doing.
Daryl would have had to call in sick, too. There was no way that he was leaving Carol at home with the children and a hungover Merle. She hadn't done anything to deserve that. Neither had Daryl, arguably, but it was his foul luck that he'd been born into the same family as his brother, so that meant that Merle was his responsibility—arguably as payback for all the times that, when they were young, Daryl had ended up being Merle's responsibility for no reason other than the default obligations of a big brother who knew that their parents were less than reliable.
"If you feel like shit, Brother, then I guess you deserve it," Daryl offered, stepping out onto the porch where Merle had gone to smoke a cigarette and escape the sounds of life that marked a normal morning in the Dixon household.
There would be questions, of course, about why they'd missed church, but for all the judgement the church people passed on them for anything else, Daryl didn't really care if they added missing a Sunday to their already overwhelming list of reasons to ridicule and criticize the Dixons.
Daryl brought Merle a cup of coffee in one hand, and he carried his in the other. Carol was more than content to occupy the kids for a while, herself, to allow Daryl to talk to Merle. She would prefer, any day, a morning of playing with and loving on the kids over dealing with Merle Dixon—and Daryl couldn't blame her at all.
Merle sucked down a long swallow coffee before spitting profanity out over how hot it was. Daryl laughed from his seat.
"Oh yeah—coffee's hot. Carol makes it that way. Don't know how it works at your house." Daryl hummed. "Apparently, something ain't workin' at your house. You wanna talk about it?"
"Not really," Merle growled.
Daryl lit a cigarette, and Merle followed suit by lighting another for himself.
"Suit yourself, Merle," Daryl said. "But you ain't gonna live in our house forever—and especially not without telling us why you got your sorry ass self thrown out in the first place."
Merle stared at Daryl for a long moment like he expected to win some sort of standoff. Daryl was unbothered. He didn't mind waiting Merle out, if that's what he needed to do. In the end, Daryl won because Merle knew that what Daryl had said was true—he was going to have to talk about it eventually.
"She was damn unreasonable," Merle said. "Threw me out for no reason."
Daryl laughed.
"If Andrea was going to throw you out for no reason, I guess she'da done it a long time ago. Merle—she's had a dozen reasons, or more, a month throw you out since the day you married her. I'm surprised it took her this long." Merle simply narrowed his eyes at Daryl in response. Daryl sipped his coffee. It was cooling down, now, to be just the way he liked it. "Why now, Merle? Why last night? And don't try to lie to me, it'll just take longer for us to figure out what to do with you—because you can't stay here forever."
Merle frowned deeply. Daryl couldn't really be certain if it was over the fact that Andrea had thrown him out, or simply because he was dealing with the pain in his head that the hangover undoubtedly gave him.
"I don't even know what her issue was," Merle said. "I cut the grass. Showered. Had a drink. Just one—so it wasn't about the drink. She got home and I asked her about bringin' me a plate from the little baby thing. She tells the boys to go start gettin' cleaned up and all. Said they ate already, so they can do whatever they want for the evening. She puts the plate on the table in front of me. Starts talkin' about all the kids that was there—and all the husbands."
"We had a good turn out," Daryl said, enjoying his coffee and cigarette enough that he didn't really feel any stress at all about his brother's predicament. "Real good turn out. Good time, really. Carol got some real nice little things for the baby, and I got a box of cigars and a decent collection of fish stories about everybody's experience becoming a father."
"Well—Andrea started sayin' how I didn't go with her, and how it made her feel like…well…I weren't listenin' to the details, really, but all this on and on about how she didn't feel appreciated or somethin' like that."
Daryl laughed quietly.
"Maybe it's the not listening and the somethin' like that attitude that finally got you thrown out the house," Daryl said. Merle made a face. "I'm serious, Merle. Believe it or not, women like when you listen to them. Don't you like when she listens to you?"
"She's supposed to listen to me," Merle said. "She's my wife."
"Eye for an eye, or something like that," Daryl said. "You supposed to listen to her because you're just as married to her as she is to you. So—when you weren't listening and all that, that was that when she threw you out the house?"
Merle was drinking the coffee that had burned him, earlier, now that he could tolerate it. He drank it loudly, like he was thirsting to death and this was the first water he'd found in the desert. He half-hummed and half-growled his response to Daryl. He only spoke when he came up for air, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Daryl thought that, really, Andrea probably qualified for something along the lines of sainthood for having married Merle, stayed with him this long, and procreated with him eight times.
"Started askin' me about the last time we went on a date. I yelled at her. Hell—I don't know the last time we went on a date! I work. She works. We got eight boys to tend to and dates aren't cheap."
"They don't have to be expensive, either, Merle," Daryl said. "And I'm sure you could hire a babysitter for an evening. Carol and I try to do it every now and again. Don't have to be much, Merle. A burger goes a long way when you make up your mind that you're gonna make it a fun date together. Parkin' in the car can be pretty exciting, when you want it to be."
Merle frowned at him. Daryl searched his brother's face for a moment.
"Merle—when is the last time you did something fun with Andrea? Just the two of you?"
Merle stared at Daryl. He smacked his mouth slightly—a show of thirst. He looked into his coffee cup and, clearly disappointed by its contents, he tipped it up to drain the last of it before he lit another cigarette for himself.
"We're married," Merle said. "We don't date. It ain't like we're goin' steady."
"Maybe that's one of your problems, Merle," Daryl offered. "Maybe you ought to never stop going steady with your wife. Not if you still feel about her like you did. Do you still feel about Andrea the way you did?"
"You want to talk a lot about my problems," Merle grumbled. "I sure don't see us talkin' about yours."
Daryl laughed quietly, recognizing Merle's defense mechanisms. He'd spent enough time in his brother's presence, by now, that he wasn't bothered, at all, by the most childish of Merle's go-to reactions.
"I'm sitting on my front porch, Merle, drinking some good coffee that my wife made for me and served me with a kiss," Daryl said. He smiled to himself. "And—I have to admit that even having you here didn't put a damper on how good my night went last, so…I don't think I have a whole lot of problems to speak of, really. You, on the other hand…"
Merle made a noise. It was noncommittal, but Daryl knew that Merle was ceding the point.
"She started talking about—being romantic," Merle said. "Holdin' her hand. Saying things to her."
"What's your problem with that, Merle?" Daryl asked.
"I don't know anything about that romance shit, Daryl," Merle said, a touch of anger coming out.
"You preached to me about it before," Daryl said. "Or something like it. You got eight boys, Merle, you must know something about being romantic with your wife."
"That's sex, Daryl. Plain and simple. Not that dandy-boy romance."
"What the hell do you do, then, Merle? Just—announce it's time and tell her to take it like a woman?"
Daryl figured, from Merle's expression, that he wasn't too terribly far off from the mark.
"You oughta be thankful she didn't throw you out years ago," Daryl said.
"It's my house," Merle said. "She can't throw me outta my house and keep me from my boys."
"What would you do? Throw her out?"
"I just want her to let me back in," Merle said angrily. "I don't want nobody thrown out. It don't make no sense. She's my wife. I'm her husband. I'm good to her. Keep a roof over her head. Keep food in her belly. Made her a Mama to eight boys that's gonna take care of her when I'm not around anymore. She oughta be on her knees thanking me. Not making demands and throwing me outta my own house! I never hit her. I never run around on her. I'm a good husband, and she ought to be glad of that. She ought to be a good wife to me."
"Do you hear yourself?" Daryl asked. "No—don't you interrupt me. I been interrupted by you enough. It's time you listen to me, Merle. Do you hear yourself? When you're talking—does the sound come past your ears in any way? Because I know it has to miss your brain entirely. Merle—Andrea's a good wife to you. It's been Andrea that's kept that house you put over both your heads. It's been Andrea that cooked that food you bought for you to eat. It's been Andrea's that's birthed those eight boys, and Andrea that's seen to most of the upbringing they've gotten—which is why I'm pretty confident they're gonna make it alright in this world, Merle. And it's been Andrea that hasn't gotten a whole lotta thanks for all of that." Daryl lit a cigarette for himself, but Merle, surprisingly enough, remained silent and waited for him to finish. "Sounds like she don't want much, Merle. A little romance. A hamburger and a shake like she's your girl and not somethin' you can't stand the sight of anymore. You to tell her she's pretty and you love her—make her feel good. You do love her, don't you, Merle?"
Merle sat there for a second, staring at the porch floor.
"Of course, I love her," Merle said. "I never loved another woman."
"Then—maybe you oughta lead with that," Daryl said. "Call Hershel and Jo. They'll watch the boys one night. Take her on a date. But—even when you aren't on a date, Merle, learn to treat her right."
"How the hell you do that?" Merle asked, a little bite to his tone. "Since you know so damned much about women—ain't ever known more than just the one."
"Doesn't matter," Daryl said. "I know that one pretty well. You could start by talking nice to her. Listening to her. Telling her she's beautiful—for no reason at all except that you mean it. Bring her little things every now and again. You don't have to buy her the most expensive thing out there. A Coke'll make her happier than you can imagine. I don't know, Merle. Just—love her—and let her see that you do. Let her hear that you do."
"Sounds like somethin' that someone who ain't much of a man might say."
"Insult me all you want," Daryl said with a laugh, "but I'm telling you—every man out there that's got a happy marriage? He's figured this out. I ain't the only one. You don't believe me, Merle, then you just ask Hershel Greene. You better stop worryin' about what someone else might think about whether or not you're enough of a man and start worryin' about what your wife thinks about what kind of man you are. Bein' a man ain't what our Daddy taught us. You think of what he done, and you vow to never do none of it—none of it at all. Do everything he never did, instead. Then, you'll be a man. It ain't hard, Merle. Just love her—and let her know it."
Silence settled between them for a long moment. Finally, Merle spoke. He laughed quietly, but Daryl knew that the laugh wasn't driven by genuine humor.
"What if I don't know how, Brother?" Merle asked.
"Come on and let's see about some breakfast," Daryl said. "Let's go see what Carol made good for me to eat—and to share with you. Maybe you keep your mouth shut today. Maybe you just pay attention. Maybe—you'll learn something, Merle."