PART 1: North
Michonne sighed in her carriage and leaned back. Her horses tied up not too far from her, she attempted to will herself to sleep.
Of course she couldn't.
It wasn't time to think too hard about Judith and RJ. Daryl and Rosita were trusted to take care of them and although Michonne lost count of how many times the sun went down and her children were not within arm's reach, she knew in her heart that they would all be reunited with The Brave Man. Also, Judith made her go forth, and she was becoming so scary good with the katana, even Negan was shutting up long enough to listen to her.
She eventually told herself the reason why she couldnt fall asleep: She hadn't found Rick yet, and she stopped in New Jersey.
It was a mix of emotions because she loved New Jersey. South Jersey anyway. Not that she wouldn't love North Jersey. It was just unfamiliar territory, with rock formations and mountains followed by the Delaware Gap then Pennsylvania completing the geological sandwich. Her gateway into New Jersey in her childhood were beaches beside the stacked brilliance of a skyline of glittering casinos.
Atlantic City.
Every summer, Michonne and her mother and father, sometimes just her mother, would visit Michonne's favorite aunt (in this case, also her only aunt) Aunt Tracy. From what her mother told her, Tracy had always been the family "black sleep". She ran a popular yoga studio while her husband was a detective for the Atlanta PD. At some point, while Michonne was trying to tie her shoes and tell time from an analog clock, Tracy left her husband and moved up to Atlantic City of all places. She became a blackjack dealer at a casino at night but spent the daytime with a roll along cart by the side of the Boardwalk selling vibrant photos that she took herself of South Jersey, protected by a simple black 3"x 5" frame.
"It's so convenient, Chonnie," Tracy once said while Michonne examined a striking photo of the famed Lucy the Elephant landmark as the seagulls chirped around them on the boardwalk. "If you are a tourist, you'd slip it into your luggage, take a piece of Jersey with you. I don't care how great their cameras are going to be. For people, personal snapshots are wonderful. For landscapes, this does all the work for them."
"What's a landscape?" Michonne said, handing back the frame.
"What kind of education are they giving in Georgia public schools nowadays? How old are you again?"
"Nine."
Tracy shook her head. "Bless your heart. Mom is going to have to fill out some of your blanks. Now go ahead and play behind me. You know how far."
Michonne's parents happened to be taking a couples only day trip while Tracy agreed to watch her. She promised to be a good girl and play in the sand ten feet away while Tracy could sell her wares.
She spotted two women, one with a skin tone similar to hers, the other just a bit lighter, jogging down close to the ocean before slowing down to greet a small circle of reporters and onlookers not ridiculously far away from Michonne, who inched her way close, bit by bit, enough to hear the snap and roll back of camera film and a reporter's murmured question.
"Its an honor to serve as Miss America, Debbye's footsteps are difficult to follow but I hope to continue her service in a gracious manner," one of the women said before they both smiled and ran off in their summery track suits.
"Michonne! Get your little behind back here!"
Michonne did not want to experience making her favorite aunt mad.
"Chonnie, play with your bucket and shovel. What were you doing?"
"I think I saw two Miss Americas on the beach."
"Ah, ok! Cool," Tracy was moving her pictures around. "The new winner, I think her name is Marjorie something. Pretty rad that there are two back-to-back that look just like us, right? That stupid pageant is trying to make up for the Vanessa Williams scandal, rightfully so."
"Who is Vanessa Williams?"
Tracy nearly dropped her pic of the Absecon lighthouse. "Excuse me? She was the first black Miss America. She was on her way to becoming a national treasure, and this new album she released might get her back on track, it is so good. We'll listen to it back at the house."
"Why was she on her way? What happened?"
Tracey sighed. Michonne could see she was choosing words carefully, and also was growing tired of the subject. "She made a mistake. She's human, everyone makes a mistake."
"What was the mistake?"
Tracy paused. "I'm not even going to tell you to ask your mom. If you remember this question, go look it up at library for yourself. Now, are you willing to walk twenty steps away from the cart with me? Who wants a water ice?!"
Tracy's instincts to deflect the question were effective. Michonne did not remember to look it up for about a few more years. When she finally had the gumption, she was disgusted on the part of the Miss America handlers but still curious about the history. How could an organization that recently crowned two black women in a row suddenly show progression after they shamed someone so talented for being naïve and trying to live her life? And they've only had one Jewish crown? Yet the camaraderie and sisterhood she saw all those years ago was inspiring, women being competitive but still friends. It was almost enough for Michonne to participate. Almost.
Michonne had no musical talent to speak of, even signing while dancing around with her Walkman once her father knocked on her door to say that their cat was scared. But there were parts of the pageant herself that piqued her curiosity, enough to say to that a couple times in high school she ditched study hall if she had no homework to go to the library, looking up a news piece or an encyclopedia article when a random question popped into her head.
This shaped a day in Michonne's last visit to Atlantic City, just before she went to college.
"Chonnie, you're still reading that book? You know there is a pageant just for us too. Its called Miss Black America," Tracy made sure her voice was heard through the brightly hued beach umbrella Michonne propped up.
"I know Aunt Tracy, it's just this was the only book on the subject available at the library at home." Michonne flipped a page, adjusting her bookmark.
"I can let you in on a secret. There are a plentiful amount of books about anything you want to read right here. Are you sure about Spelman?"
"Yes, I've already accepted."
"Wonderful college. So proud. But. I think maybe Princeton is more your style. Or UPenn. You're so smart."
A pause occurred as Michonne heard a potential customer stop by the cart. Just as she settled back into her next page, she heard the exchange of cash and the whirl of paper being printed from her aunts adding machine.
"If it's about HBCUs, Delaware State is a great option! Not so close, but a reasonable distance to visit your favorite Auntie once a month."
Michonne rolled her eyes. "Mom told me you were going to do this."
"Sweetheart, don't be like me and sow your wild oats later on in life. You're young and beautiful!"
"The in state college tuition cost less, plus at Spelman I'll be away from Mom and Dad for sufficient periods of time anyway. I promise."
Michonne heard Tracy sigh, resolute but disappointed. "All right."
Michonne began to read again when she heard a male voice native to the New Jersey area saying, "Interesting book. Miss America: The Dream Lives On. I'd love to read it."
Michonne lifted her eyes up just enough to see a young man, old enough to be in his twenties, in dark bicycle shorts that emphasized the muscles in his thighs and a smart blue polo shirt with an embroidered police badge on the breast. He had dark curly hair, a strong jaw, and skin tone nearly the same color as the sand surrounding them.
This was a male hitting on her, and the first time it was someone outside of her race from the sparse similar interactions she had throughout high school. Her logical brain told her that of course it wasn't going to work for a thousand reasons not about skin color. But other parts of her couldn't deny that there were attributes of him that she found to be pretty damn cute.
She closed her book and stood up straight so he could take a good look at her gingham patterned bikini top and low rise denim shorts. "The subject always interested me, plus, when I'm visiting Atlantic City, why not read about it?" She shot him a grin, using him purposely as flirtatious practice.
The mans mouth dropped a bit. "Oh, you aren't participating in it? I could've sworn."
Oh, this guy is good.
Michonne felt her cheeks blush at the compliment. "Thank you. But there are so many hotties on the beach. Why'd you stop to talk to me?"
"Well, you're beauty pageant material."
As Michonne contemplated sneaking out on a date, for flirting practices purely, again, of course, she heard the adding machine buzz followed by her aunt speaking hurriedly to a customer in a hushed tone, followed by shouting, "Excuse me, Officer, my niece just turned 18 not too long ago and her parents are visiting in town!"
The cop ran off before he could even hear Tracy pleasantly say "Have a nice day, sir!" then muttering, "He's lucky I didn't ask for his badge number and the name of his police commander."
Michonne spun around and pulled down the umbrella. "How could you? I was about to educate him on the fact that Miss America is about more than just beauty!"
Tracy went to adjusting the photos for her cart. "Chonnie, for as long as you can, resist a man in a civically authoritative position. He might have a sweet badge, dark curls, and an accent you find charming, if not perplexing, but you're going to wonder every night if he's going to come home."
Michonne was reeling. "Aunt Tracy!"
"Sweetheart, I don't mean that in a scandalous cheating way. I meant it's a dangerous job."
"He's a bike cop."
Tracy snorted. "He could be the sheriff of Mayberry for all that matters! He has a job that allows him to open carry a Barretta 9 mil, if I'm guessing correctly! This is advice I learned the hard way. It's in our family tree to fall in love with policemen. Your mother broke the cycle. Don't start it up again."
The visit ended with joy and hugs before Aunt Tracy transcended the next year, losing a short battle with a sudden illness. But her spirit and love for New Jersey lived on through Michonne.
Aunt Tracy would have approved of Rick. He had not worn anything close to a badge since Deanna assigned them both to be constables. Although, in the back of her mind, after Rick and Michonne consummated their relationship, Michonne did have shower thoughts that Deanna was playing matchmaker by assigning only the two of them the role.
Tracy would see his good heart, quiet confidence, and dedication to his family. Also, she would see how well he fills out denim button down shirts. Or maybe that fact was just for Michonne.
The promise of a new day ahead. Now it was time to find Rick and show him around.