AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Carol tasted her wine and readjusted herself in the bathtub. She slid the little wooden shelf into place—it held her wine glass, books, phone, and anything else she needed. It kept it all safely above the water where she could interact with it without anything getting ruined by the water. It had been a Christmas gift from Andrea the year before, after Carol had lost her cell phone to an unfortunate bathtub baptism.
Her stomach churned, but the wine helped a little with her anxiety. She stared at the open text message. It was blank, waiting on her. It was almost mocking her.
She could walk away. She didn't have to face this fear. It was her choice. But the glass vase on the corner of her tub held the single tulip, and the flower reminded her that it might be nice to try to face the fear. It wasn't fair to ask Daryl to be everything that she'd once dreamed a man could be, but what if?
Carol sucked in a breath and blew it out quickly.
"It's just a stupid text message," she said to herself, laughing at her own nerves. She thumbed in her message, held her breath, and hit send as she blew her breath out in the same way she might have done to steady herself before something she knew was going to be painful.
"Ann. Purple. Toast."
After she sent the message, it was done. She relaxed a little simply because she'd done something. She'd made a move. There was no taking it back now. But, also, she'd done what Daryl had asked. She'd let him know that she was still afraid of—nearly everything, so it seemed some days. But she was interested. She wanted to try, but it was going to take time to tiptoe around all the land mines that she knew Ed had meticulously set for her.
She didn't expect the sound of in incoming text so quickly.
"LOL what?"
Carol laughed to herself. She readjusted herself, again, and sat up. This was going to take some typing, and she couldn't recline too completely and do that.
"My name is Carol Ann McAlister. My married name was Peletier. I'm McAlister now, but people in town still remember when I was married to Ed. I answer to Peletier when I have to. My favorite color is purple. All the purples. I had toast for dinner. You said that's what you wanted to know."
Daryl texted back a few moments later. He was faster at responding than Carol expected.
"Not all I wanted to know. But I'll take it. Toast isn't dinner."
Carol smiled to herself.
"Cooked all day. Didn't want to cook when I got home. What did you eat?"
"Big piggy."
"What?"
"LOL Big piggy. Sandwich. From Nice Rack BBQ. My brother is kind of obsessed with it right now."
Carol laughed to herself. She felt herself relaxing, and she might have blamed it on the wine, but she'd forgotten to drink any of her wine since the conversation started.
"I like BBQ. I like ribs, but they're really messy."
"Messy is good. Most of the best things are messy. Good day at work?"
"Busy. My feet are killing me. My back's killing me. LOL Everything is killing me. How about you?"
"I'm not dying, but it was busy. I had three different jobs, including a general job where a woman had me hanging bird feeders."
Carol laughed to herself.
"I didn't realize that was part of your job."
"Handymen do everything. What are you doing tonight?"
"Right now, I'm soaking in the tub."
As soon as Carol sent the message, she felt her heart seize up. She tried to unsend it, but she could find no such option, and she knew that was because that particular feature simply didn't exist. She typed as quickly as she could stringing together her messages in short bursts to simply keep Daryl from responding until he'd read what she had to say.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sent that. It won't let me delete it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking."
There was a long delay. Daryl didn't respond. Carol wondered if the wait for some response from him was too long, or if she was only imagining the length of time that she soaked in silence because she felt embarrassed by her message. In the window of time that she waited, she imagined a number of possible responses from Daryl, but none of them were actually what she got.
"It's OK. I don't know why you're sorry. Don't know if I should be embarrassed to say it, but I bathe too. Every day. Sometimes twice. I prefer showers, but I use soap and everything. LOL."
Carol laughed to herself.
"Fair enough. I just meant that it looks terrible. Like a cheesy porno. Especially after you said that handymen do everything."
"LOL. Could be worse. Are you a big fan of those?"
"Of what?"
"Cheesy pornos."
"Did you really just ask me that?"
"You brought it up. I didn't."
Carol's heart drummed in her chest. There was a line where things could go in one direction or another, and they were tap dancing all around that line.
"I've seen a few. I wouldn't really call myself a fan. Not really the kind of thing I enjoy watching."
"Me either."
"I knew you would say that."
"Because you're getting to know me?"
"Because no man would admit to watching them."
"I didn't say I hadn't never watched them. I said they weren't what I enjoy watching."
Carol reminded herself that Daryl had done nothing wrong. She had no reason to believe he was lying. And, even if he was, there was no real shame in watching pornography—not beyond the cries of those who would condemn anything of a sexual nature. Carol wasn't a fan of it, but she'd seen a few since her divorce. Most of them had come borrowed from her friends, but she knew that people watched them. They had a purpose.
Besides, it wasn't Daryl that had introduced porn or even bathing into the conversation. She could skim through his messages and remind herself that, technically, he'd been nothing but a gentleman in this exchange.
She had to remind herself that, even though Ed had taught her to spend her entire life on the defensive, there was no reason to believe that Daryl was the enemy. She willed herself to relax. She drank a few swallows of her wine to help herself.
"What do you like to watch?"
"Truth?"
"You can assume that's all I ever want."
"Bold statement. You willing to offer that in return?"
"I intend to try."
"Fair enough. Don't laugh. Kind of embarrassing."
Carol was glad that Daryl wasn't there. She laughed to herself. For whatever reason, the command not to laugh automatically made her want to laugh—even though nothing at all had been said yet. She couldn't imagine, though, what Daryl might like to watch that could be more embarrassing than the cheesy pornos that he'd admitted to having seen, but of which he was not a fan.
"I'm not judging you."
"You are, but maybe not about television. I like the sappy movies."
"Sappy movies?"
"You know. The ones with small towns and people falling in love. Being happy."
Carol smiled to herself.
"Don't be an asshole."
"What?"
"Don't be an asshole. Just because I asked for the truth. What do you really watch?"
Silence. Carol waited for a response. None came. She waited a moment longer, drank some of her wine, and watched the phone. She usually didn't like to text this much. Michonne, Andrea, and Alice were avid texters. They could send each other two hundred- and thousand-word novels on a daily basis. Alice would almost hang up the phone with someone to text them. Carol and Jacqui usually preferred phone calls. Michonne and Andrea were flexible, depending on the person and the situation.
Carol didn't hate texting, per se, but she wasn't a fan of being pendent on her phone for so long. She was usually doing a million things at once—that was how she functioned. It was how she kept her hands and her mind busy. It could be frustrating to sit and stare at her phone, quietly feeling like time and opportunity were slipping away from her.
She'd dedicated herself to the quiet relaxation of a bath, though, and really, she was welcoming this conversation while she soaked. She waited, wondering if she had offended Daryl. She wondered if she should send some sort of apology. He responded, though.
"I swear it. It's the truth."
He sent a photo through—somewhat blurry like he'd moved the phone too quickly after hitting the button to capture the image. It was a television set—a rather old one, to be honest, but Carol imagined that a handyman, perhaps, could get more mileage out of things than the average person. On the screen, it was evident that Daryl was watching some kind of movie with what looked like an old-time general store at Christmas.
"You like Christmas movies?"
"Aren't all Christmas. This one is. She worked in New York. Her father died. She moved back to her home town to help her mother with the store. She's going to fall in love with the guy who brings the milk from the local dairy farm, but she doesn't know that yet."
"Romance movies? You watch chick flicks?"
"You said you wouldn't laugh."
"I'm not. I'm surprised."
"They're good movies. I like happy endings. And I don't like when things have that to be continued shit. These movies start and stop. The whole thing happens in two hours."
"I like happy endings, too."
Carol smiled at the smiley face emoji that popped up.
"We got that in common."
"We do."
"What do you watch?"
Carol sat and thought about it for a moment. She wasn't sure how to respond. She accidentally slipped into a daydream, imaging Daryl on his couch, right that moment, watching a movie and waiting for the woman helping her mother to fall in love with the dairy man. She found herself oddly moved to think that something like that would appeal to Daryl. She really didn't know him at all. There was something, though, about simply knowing what he was watching that made her feel like she knew him a bit better. She was drawn out of her daydream by the sound of her phone chiming about an incoming message. She'd daydreamed long enough that it had even gone to sleep. As soon as she unlocked it, Daryl's messages rolled in—indicative of concern on his end.
"Hello? Did I say something wrong? If you don't want to say what you watch, you don't have to."
"I'm sorry. It isn't that."
Carol paused a moment. She needed an excuse. What could she possibly say? She didn't want to tell him that she'd just been daydreaming about him, and that's what had led her to ignore his message for so long.
"I got distracted."
That was vague enough.
"It's OK."
"I don't know what I watch, really. I watch some of those movies, like you like. I like them a lot. I watch some old sitcoms. Shows I watched when I was younger. I don't watch much television. I'm usually busy. I keep busy."
"I keep busy at work. I do what needs to be done at home. It's late enough now for not being busy."
Carol laughed to herself.
"True."
"You have to do things when you're not being busy. If you don't watch television, what do you like to do?"
"I like to spend time with my friends, when I can."
"They're important to you"
The lack of punctuation made Carol puzzle for a second. Was it a statement or a question? Did Daryl even truly know which he intended?
"Very much. They've been there for me when nobody else was."
"It's important to have people."
"You have people?"
"My brother. I have friends, but mostly it's just me and Merle."
"Brothers are important, too."
She got another emoji in response.
"And when you aren't with friends?"
"I read. A lot. Do you read?"
"Probably more than you would have give me credit for."
Carol smiled to herself.
"That's not fair. It was a question. Not a judgment."
"I read. I like mysteries. I read a lot of magazines. But I don't read that much. Not like you, I'm sure. Merle reads the Farmer's Almanac a lot. Never misses the paper, either. Or those junk magazines at the grocery store. What do you read?"
"Promise not to laugh?"
"No more than you laughed at me."
"Fair enough. I like romance books."
"You mean books like my movies?"
"Some are. Some are a bit more ridiculous."
"How?"
"Just are."
Carol didn't want to tell him that her favorite books were the bodice rippers that she could pick up for a couple of bucks at the drug store. She didn't tell him that she liked books that were the same sexy story, over and over, with different scenarios and backdrops.
Of course, maybe he wasn't that wrong. Maybe a lot of them were like his movies, only they slid a little closer toward the gray edge of cheesy porno. She guessed it could be argued that she simply preferred to read her porn rather than watch it. She wasn't going to say that. She quickly added to her text before he could pry more.
"A lot are like your movies."
"Yeah? I wouldn't mind reading that."
Carol laughed. She hummed to herself and sipped a little more of her wine. The water was getting cold and her wine was running low. Soon, she'd need to abandon the bath and refill her glass. Soon, she knew, she'd need to settle down with one of the books they were discussing and focus her mind on winding down to prepare for another Tuesday morning.
"You should try them."
She doubted Daryl would ever really read a romance book—even the tame ones—but she wasn't going to tell him that. She had a strong belief that it was almost criminal to discourage anyone from reading really anything.
"Maybe I will. Why don't you pick me one out? A good one. Highly recommended by you."
"You really want to read one?"
"I really do. Why don't you pick me one out? You can bring it to your work tomorrow. I'll pick it up. We could have coffee. Breakfast. You can tell me what it's about."
Carol chewed her lip. Her heart fluttered in her chest. She couldn't help but smile to herself. She'd walked right into that one. It was a trap, and she hadn't even seen him lay it. Still, she didn't think she minded being caught.
"Fine."
"Fine?"
"Tomorrow. Breakfast. I make excellent French toast. I could make you something else, though. Whatever you want."
"I love French toast."
"7:30 so there's time?"
"I'll be there at 7:20 to be sure."
Carol's heart wasn't just fluttering in her chest. It was pounding. It was drumming so hard that she thought she could feel it knocking against her sternum like a hammer. Her stomach felt fluttery. This time, though, the nerves didn't feel unbearable. They didn't make her feel like she would die.
They made her feel, as she abandoned her tub of cooling water, released the drain, and toweled off, like she wanted to skip to her bookshelf to choose a title for Daryl—and one for herself.
"I have to go. It's late. I usually like time to wind down. Quiet. Before I sleep."
"I understand. Me too. I'm looking forward to breakfast."
She hesitated. She was almost afraid to appear too enthusiastic, though she didn't know why or even what might be considered "too much" in this situation.
"Me too. Goodnight, Daryl."
"Goodnight, Carol."
Carol smiled at her phone. She clicked the button to make the screen go black, and she walked into her bedroom and rummaged through her pajama collection for what suited her best for the night. She wondered, glancing toward her bookshelf, if she had anything for herself that involved a handyman of sorts.
