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Chapter 17 – Michonne


"Michy! Mama said to come eat! Wake up!"


"Huh?"


"Rick, where is your shirt?"


"Beth?" Cracking open one eye, I spy my little sister Beth standing over Rick and I, looking down with curiosity sparking in her wide blue eyes, from the side of my bed. Rapidly blinking, I'm trying to make sense of her presence in my room.


Bright eyed, and bushy tailed, in a pair of jean overalls, her face scrunched as she peruses Rick's naked torso, Beth begins to jostle me lightly, shaking my arm to get me to fully wake up.


"Beth? What are you doing in here?" I ask, my voice cracking and straining under the weight of a long night of partying and sexing, a growing fetus, and a desperate need for sleep.


"Mama said to come eat, it's time for breakfast." Her child like voice bubbling with that deep southern accent of hers.


"Ok, but you can't just come in my room without knocking anymore. Rick lives here now, so, you have to respect our privacy. Ok?"


"Why doesn't he have on a shirt though? Where's his PJs?" Crossing her arms across her chest, she cocks her head to the side, waiting on an answer to what she has deemed a couple of terribly important questions.


"I'm wearing his pajama shirt, Beth." I reason before I even realize that my wearing Rick's pajama top might cause Beth to have even more questions.


"Oh really?" She says, growing even more interested in this conversation around Rick's pajamas than before.


Frustrated with her still standing like a sentinel over us, I roll my eyes, disentangle myself from Rick's limbs, and sit up, ready to dispatch with her for good. "Listen, go tell Mama we're coming. We'll be down in a minute." I answer, pulling the purple flowered comforter up over both of our bodies to afford us a modicum of privacy that Beth's barging presence, roaming eyes, and intrusive questions have robbed us of.


"Hm. Ok. Hurry up before it gets cold!" She tosses over her shoulder, taking her time to lazily amble through the door.


At the sound of the click, I huff out an exasperated breath and launch myself from the bed, quickly locking the door behind her. The cool air in the room hits my bare legs, and a shiver immediately races through my body. Stretching with my hands high over my head, the pajama shirt, only secured by one button, rises high over my nude body, reminding me that I do not have on any pants or underwear.


Probably sensing my departure, given the dip in the bed, Rick tosses the comforter down towards his legs, and off of his chest. "What time is it?" With a voice raspy as sandpaper, as though he has smoked a hundred cigarettes, Rick rubs his hand across his face and down to scratch at his week's worth of beard growth.


"Uh, it's about 7:30." Looking over to the alarm clock, I take stock of my guy, and his grouchy countenance. "My mom made breakfast. You wanna eat?"


"I'm not hungry. Too tired." He grumbles, rolling over on to his stomach, and burrowing his head full of tousled, curly hair underneath a pillow.


Laughing lightly at him, and his reluctance to wake up, I stroll back over to the bed. Mounting myself onto his back, straddling him with my hands flat to the rounded mounds of his warm shoulders, I can feel the muscles under my fingers tense.


"What are you doing, woman?"


"Seeing if I can get you out of bed to feed you."


"You getting on top of me in a bed isn't going to do it." He says, removing the pillow from his head, and peaking at me over his shoulders with one eye opened. "Matter of fact, it's going to do the opposite. Especially since you don't have on any underwear. I can feel how hot your little pussy is on my back." Reaching behind him and to the side, he grabs a hold of one of my ass cheeks, and pulls me a little higher and tighter to him. "Do the thing with my hair please?"


Knowing exactly what he's talking about, I lean forward, and run the tips of my fingers and nails across his scalp, and through the fine curls of his hair. "Like that?"


"Yeah. Feels good." He moans, immediately relaxing at the massaging touch of my fingers criss crossing, and softly kneading his scalp. "I think I drank too much last night. My pops kept wanting to celebrate everything. I smoked one cigar too many with him. Too much of everything last night."


"Oh yeah, you got to do all the celebrating and drinking, while I had to drink grape juice with Beth and Maggie. Doesn't seem fair to me."


"Well, I'm sure our daughter appreciates you not trying to damage her little body with cigars and champagne, so thank you for that. Plus, you got to do some celebrating, mama."


"Yeah, I'm sure our son is quite thankful I didn't celebrate as much as his daddy did." I tease, as I drop lower on him, leaning my full torso forward, and crushing my breasts to his back. "Hey, by the way, your dad did seem really happy last night. He hugged me like twice. Called me his daughter. He's a sweetheart."


"He's real slick trying to push up on my girl." Rick jokes, jostling my leg.


"No, he was just, happy. Really happy. Joking, and laughing. I haven't met him that many times, but I've never seen him like that before. And, I never noticed how much you two look alike. I guess that's what I'm in for in 30 years huh?" I whisper into Rick's ear, leaning over to make eye contact with him.


"Listen, my pops is a real fun guy, doesn't take any shit, but he's cool. There was a time when he and my mom used to get along, and laugh a lot. I remember him being romantic, writing her letters while he was overseas, bringing flowers home every time he returned from deployment. After the last few times, and after my grandpa died, a little bit of his light dimmed or something. He's struggled with PTSD for awhile, and then all the drama with his half-brother. But, yeah last night he was back to the guy I remember from when I was real young. The same guy who taught me and Jeff how to hunt, to work on cars, about women."


"Half-brother?"


"Uh yeah. Morgan's dad is my dad's half-brother. They share the same father."


"Oh word? The Grimes men like them some chocolate huh?"


"I…what? Michonne, the stuff you say sometimes! How do I answer that? I like you. That's all I know. And I guess my grandpa liked Morgan's grandma too. It's complicated I guess."


"What's so complicated about it? People have been doing it for ages, Rick. Folks act so scandalized about the dumbest stuff sometimes."


"You're right."


"So that explains why you and Morgan are so tight, and the whole drama with him and the cops and stuff, why that affected you so bad. I get it now. Makes sense." I offer, putting together pieces of this country soap opera.


Getting lost in my own thoughts, wondering what other secrets this place holds, I'm still laying on top of Rick's back, stroking his hair. Enveloped by the quiet serenity of the moment, my attention is eventually drawn back to the man beneath me. With his sapphire eyes once again closed, hidden from me behind his eyelids, and a thick trim of hazelnut colored eyelashes, Rick's evenly paced in and out breathing has nearly lulled him back to sleep. Wondering if I should maybe allow him to tumble back into the welcome arms of the sandman, my gaze skims over the features of this man that has so effortlessly captured my heart. The freshly evident curl pattern of his newly grown out hair, now a bit longer than usual, is soft and feathery between my fingers. Bursting through the curtains, the sunlight captures the contrast of dark chestnut hair, against some lighter sandy brown strands, and even a few greys.


As I continue to feel the sensation of his silky locks sifting between my fingers, another thought dances through my mind, and before I can stop it, it falls from my lips.


"Rick, do you care that our son won't be white? That he won't look like you?"


"Say what now?"


"Our baby. It's extremely likely that he won't be white. I mean, he might be really light, but he's not going to be white like you are."


"I know that. Did you think I was not aware of that fact when I got you pregnant, Michonne?" He smirks, looking over his shoulder at me with his left eyebrow quirked in question. There is a joking lilt to his voice, but I wasn't teasing when I asked the question. For some strange reason this thought is suddenly just crossing my mind, and I'm curious if it's the same for Rick. But, his answer tells me that of course he has thought this through, about the possibility of our child not having his skin color. And in true Rick Grimes fashion he doesn't seem to give a damn. I should have known better than to even question it.


"Rick, I know this sounds strange but I was just sitting here looking at you, and thinking I hope our son looks like you. But then I thought, he won't fully, not entirely, ya know?"


"Well, she can still look like me. Though I really hope she looks more like her mama. I don't think a beard would look so pretty on our little princess." Frowning, as though the thought of a bearded baby girl is even a partial possibility, Rick knows the perfect way to lighten this moment.


Feeling a little foolish for even asking the question now, I think to change the conversation up a little bit, but still focusing on the baby. Honestly, sometimes I think about him, my son that's growing safely in my womb, and it feels unreal. Yes, I know that the tests all confirmed that there is a baby in there, but that feels like ethereal science in comparison to what I can only imagine it will be like to actually see and hold him in my arms.


"Why do you want a little girl so bad, Rick? I already told you this is a boy."


"I don't know. I just always pictured myself like Hershel I guess, a father of girls. And what man with a lady as gorgeous as mine wouldn't want a house full of little girls that look just like her bossing him around?"


"You think I'm bossy? I'm not bossy, Rick. I'm just…efficient." Rolling off of his back to the side of him, I'm slightly offended by his assessment of me. I don't think I'm bossy at all.


Taking note of my pouting, Rick turns toward me and thrusts his rough calloused hand inside of my shirt, palming and massaging my breast. Roving his hand towards my back, he's pulling me closer to his body. Snuggled into him, he's firm against me, squeezing my ass in his hand, and running his face up and down, and over the hollow of my neck. Tickling the skin with the hairs of his beard, he mumbles, "Don't get mad. I didn't realize that you had rebranded bossy as efficient. That's all. I got it now. Who wouldn't want a tribe of beautiful, efficient, brown skinned angels to take care of? And listen, you're right, you are efficient. You took great care of me after I got shot, and still did good in school. You're an amazing woman."


"Uh huh. Don't try and butter me up with compliments." I moan, with my arm lazily draped over his back, my nails draggingly scaling his warm skin, causing him to growl and groan in between breaths.


Drawing back, he takes a moment to stare adoringly into my eyes, his own nearly clear as water, with just a hint of a blazing dash of sapphire. Rick's hand is now anchored behind my neck, and he's rubbing his thumb across the crest of my cheek. "I'm not. I hope this little girl is blessed with all of the very best of her mother. Her intelligence, her kindness, her big heart. I'm excited to start this family with you, Michonne. This is everything to me. And I won't love this baby any more or less if she has curly hair or straight hair. Brown skin or white. Blue eyes or brown. She's our baby. A little bit of me, a little bit of you."


Grinning, and feeling the warm rush of a blush underneath my skin, I hug him tighter to me in appreciation of him and his words, so perfect in assuaging the tiny fear submerged in the cellar of my heart. "You always know the right things to say don't you?"


"It's a gift. Now come here and give me those lips, pretty girl."


"Nope. When you start kissing, and calling me 'pretty girl' I know exactly what you want. We don't have time for that, and I'm not sure I'm ready to do all of that in my parents' house."


"Huh? We did it twice right outside of your parents' house. And, if we are going to live here until after the baby comes, we're gonna have to do 'that' again at some point. Probably in this bed. Right?" Rick questions with a hint of alarm, his eyebrows raised to almost comical heights, nearly to his hairline.


"I guess. Yeah, I just haven't thought about it that far yet. I mean do you know how scandalized and scarred I was the first time I heard Hershel and my mother having sex down the hall? The walls are not that thick here."


"That is…disturbing."


"You never heard your parents having sex before, Rick?"


"No. I don't even want to think of it. Matter of fact, thank you for putting a damper on my mood."


"Good. Now let's get up and get dressed so we can eat and get this day started. I have a list of things that need to get done this week."


"Am I on that list?" Rick raises his eyebrows again, this time rolling back towards me with interest reignited in his ocean blues. Turning me to my back, and settling in between my legs, he kisses my lips, my cheeks, all over my face, and lifts my right leg to wrap it around his waist.


Moaning at the delicious weight of him cushioned between my thighs, I revel in the attention he's giving me, and that for once I'm not experiencing any morning sickness that would prevent me from enjoying Rick's usual early morning kisses. At approximately ten weeks along, the rampant bouts of nausea and vomiting began to kick in some time last week, right after my first appointment with my doctor.


After being swept away to the lake house by Rick right after Christmas, I called my doctor to see if I could get an appointment to confirm the pregnancy, and some guidance on what to do next. I've been seeing the same doctor since I was sixteen, and my mother suggested I get on the pill to help regulate my periods. Dr. Cloyd knows me pretty well, and was as surprised as I was to find that I was pregnant. Over the years I have meticulously kept up with taking my pills, and unlike some of my friends, have never had a pregnancy scare.


Despite her initial shock, Dr. Cloyd conducted her exam and ultrasound, easily detecting the pregnancy hormone, hcg, in my urine. Throughout the appointment Rick remained nervously seated next to me. Looking so handsome with his dark hair brushed back from his face, in a dark charcoal button up, he held my hand in one of his, while he asked questions, fidgeted with his other hand, and anxiously tapped out a staccato rhythm with his bouncing foot, the heels of his boots creating a clicking tap on the exam room floor. After making the introductions, and taking note of Rick's behavior, Dr. Cloyd calmly and patiently answered each of his questions, that I suppose given that my mother was a doctor, were already somewhat understood by me. But, of course there were some surprises.


"Yes, Mr. Grimes, the morning sickness is normal and should subside the closer Michonne gets to her second trimester. A little ginger tea might help settle her stomach. But if it continues throughout the pregnancy we might have a little concern with her being able to remain hydrated, and with ensuring the baby gets all the food it needs."


"It is normal for Michonne to sleep quite a bit. She's making a baby and that uses a lot of energy. That would also explain the increased appetite. No need to worry about that. But the wanting to eat dirt part is concerning. That could be something known as pica, and I would suggest that you not actually eat dirt, Michonne. If you just want that gritty texture, try uncooked oatmeal."


"I don't usually find WebMD to be that helpful since it often leads patients to jump from 0-60 in the most benign of cases. Have you seen the meme where the lady has a pain in her elbow and WebMD diagnoses her with elbow cancer? That's pretty much how that usually goes, and it's not always the proper conclusion. So, just remember that when you're googling for medical advice, Mr. Grimes."


"Sure, sex is fine during pregnancy. The desire for it might even pick up for the remainder of the pregnancy as energy returns. It's a good way to stay connected to each other, and enjoy this time together before the baby comes."


"No, I can't confirm if it's a girl. And no, I'm not sure why Michonne would be so convinced that it's a boy, just yet."


"That shade there, that's not a penis, Michonne, that's a foot. We won't know the sex until you are twenty weeks or so."


"The vitamins should be taken everyday, and given your age and that you are perfectly healthy this should be a routine pregnancy from what I can tell for now. So, no need to worry about much for now. Let's just make it to your late July due date. The light spotting is probably normal. Later in pregnancy it could be concerning, but not really for now. Let's keep an eye on it."


With the small, glossy ultrasound pictures, printed out and tucked away in his wallet, and a few images of them snapped on each of our phones, we left that appointment floating on cloud nine. Ever since, Rick has attempted to only handle me with the most delicate of kid-gloves. Holding on to my hand at all times, helping me in and out of the car, always asking if I'm hungry or tired. It's cute, but it's also driving me a little crazy. As we showed the ultrasound pictures to my parents and his dad last night, Rick held me wrapped in his arms, hugging me so proudly to chest, as though I was the most valuable thing in the world to him, that I can't help but to dismiss the little bit of irritation I have at his attentive brand of micro-managing me and this pregnancy, and just bask in the consuming glow of his love.


Also, recognizing that today is going to be a hard day for him as he moves some of his things from his old apartment and here to my parents' house, I relent to his amorous affections, and kiss him on the lips. "You're always on the list, sweetheart. But we have a lot to do today, and I need to feed you first. So come on before my mother sends Beth back in here to stare at your chest while you sleep."


"This is going to be a big adjustment, getting used to being here with your parents and sisters. Maybe I should crash with Dale and Shane like my dad is, at least until you move back here in May. Might be less awkward with only guys over there."


"Whatever works for you. But you know, Dale and Shane can't cook like my mama can."


"True. Those jokers are probably plotting on how to get over here and eat as we speak. Let's think about it while we eat. I'm starving now thinking of your mother's cooking."




"You up for this?"


"Yeah, it's not a big deal. Just gonna grab a few things. Uniforms, boots, some clothes, underwear, toiletries. No need to take any of the big stuff. It is weird though, that my pops and I are both not living here anymore. Strange."


"I could see that. I wonder how your mother is doing without your father here."


"Who knows. Hopefully I won't have to deal with her today. I'm still kinda hung over and tired, I'm not in the mood for her and Lori's shit today." Rick responds, frowning and probably squinting behind the dark shade of his sunglasses. His mood has gradually deteriorated the further we got from the comforting warmth of my bed, and the closer we got to this necessary part of our day. I've been trying to keep it lighthearted, with lots of jokes, and kisses, but I can tell by the soured twist of his lips, and the wrinkles forming in his brow, that he is not happy right now.


With my hand in his, Rick leads me up the steps to his apartment. Finding the door unlocked, he looks back to me and shrugs. "Maybe I left it open when I hurried out of here in a rush."


"That doesn't sound like you."


"Nah, it doesn't. Maybe my mother has been in here snooping. I don't care. Let me just get my stuff." His gaze sweeps the front room and kitchen area from the front door, then hastily walks towards the back to his bedroom.


Closely behind him, eager to help him gather the things he needs, and get back home for some much needed rest, Rick's loudly raised voice, immediately alarms me and quickens my pace into his bedroom.


"What the fuck are you doing here, Lori? Gotdamnit!"


"I was waiting on you to come back home. I finished cleaning up. You left the place a mess." Rising from her prone position, asleep in Rick's bed, Lori cheerily answers Rick's surprised question, until she spys me standing next to him. Glowering my way, with a stern pout to her thin lips, Lori definitely did not expect me to return with Rick, as it's now pretty obvious that her and Ellen's scheming did not work.


"This is ridiculous. What do I have to say to get through to you? You and I are over, Lori. There is nothing left between us. Nothing. I have tried to be kind, and I didn't want to hurt your feelings because we have been friends for a long time. But you won't let this go. You have disrespected my fiancée, and me, and for the life of me I can't figure out what else to do to get through to you."


Witnessing Lori standing at the side of Rick's bed, this scene is all too familiar. Drastic changes mark this occurrence though, and for once I can sense a real understanding of what's actually going on beginning to shadow and darken Lori's upbeat, but unrealistic outlook on her future with Rick. Dropping her somber brown eyes to our hands clutched tightly together, picking out the engagement ring on my finger, then the exasperated way that Rick is rubbing his other hand over his brow, she clears her throat and begins to further explain.


As though she has lost some of the wind in her sails, the droop of her shoulders is evidence enough that this is not how she thought this would play out. "Your mother thought it would be a good idea for me to be here. To clean up, and wait for you. Hell, this whole thing was her idea. When my mother told her that I had gotten knocked up by that no good Negan, she thought this might bring us together. You've always been so good, Rick. So interested in helping others, doing the right thing. Sometimes at your own detriment." Wistfully, she swipes her chocolate brown hair from her face, then dashes her hopeful gaze from Rick, then to me and back to Rick again, settling her eyes there. Focused on him, she continues. "That's why she thought it would work, that you would swoop in and save me from myself. She said that you were just trying something new, sowing wild oats, just like your grandfather did. But that just like him you would come back, you would do the right thing, and we could have the family we were always supposed to have. Together.


"She was wrong though, I guess. And now I'm the fool who believed her…believed in this… this lie. I did this to myself, didn't I? I mean I allowed myself to be used. To try and do this…awful thing. To break you up. I wanted you back so bad, but honestly I knew, Rick. The moment I heard you danced with her at that wedding. The moment I saw her at Dixon's bar. I knew I had lost you for good. The way you looked at her, Rick. You had never looked at me with so much adoration, fascination… I don't know what it was, but she lit up something inside of you. And I hate you both for that."


Shaking her head slowly, then tossing it back woefully she lets out a tiny cathartic scream. Looking to Rick for guidance on what is going on, his face is blank, completely void of emotion, as though it's a rerun of an episode he has seen before playing out in front of us. But as for me, for a brief moment I wonder if Lori isn't mentally unstable. If all of this is really a symptom of a larger emotional issue.


Like I told Rick before, I get why Lori is so strung out for him. So addicted to him. A true addict never wants to relinquish the high. The dizzying blitz of pleasure your drug of choice delivers. This understanding, an acknowledgement of a shared experience between us, forces me to speak. "Lori, I get it. Rick loves hard. It makes you feel as though you are the only woman in the world. The most cherished and cared for person alive. Right? And you just want to hold on to that warm, electric feeling forever. Makes you willing to do almost anything to keep that high flowing through your veins. I know…" Looking to Rick, noticing the manner in which he's squinting his eyes my way, as though I've just dropped out of the sky, and he's trying to figure out where I came from. I don't let his stare throw me off though, because in this moment I can see Lori for who she is, what her struggle is, and I know that I'm the only one who can get through to her. Rick has tried, and it didn't work. He's her drug, her addiction. She can't stop fixating on him long enough to hear and absorb his words. So I forge ahead, wanting to get my point across. "But, it's done now. He's going to be my husband. Rick is the father of my baby. We're going to be a family, and there is nothing that you or Ellen can do about it. It's over."


"Shut up! You don't understand anything! Do you think this thing with you will last? His mother is never going to let you all be happy. Never. I feel sorry for you, and your baby!"


"Watch your mouth, Lori! Don't you ever speak to my wife like that again, do you hear me? Don't ever refer to her or my child." One hand riding his hip, the other is rushing over his head, tousling his growing hair back from his face. Restlessly pacing towards her, Rick grimaces and frowns, as though the words he wants to say are like acid in his mouth. "You and Ellen are something else, and I've had enough of this messy shit with the both of you, it's enough. Aren't you tired of the back and forth? If I wanted you, Lori, I would have come back to you. It's as simple as that. Since I didn't, that should tell you something. Don't be this foolish. Save yourself and get out. Don't let Ellen get your feelings hurt any more than they already are. I'm done with this shit."


"No, Rick, wait it's ok. Give her a minute." I plead, following Lori as she tries to follow Rick's directions and push away from the bedroom and out towards the front door. "I want you to know something, Lori. I'm not worried about you or Ellen. I'm done being afraid of the boogeyman. I let you two get between me and the man I love, but I know better now. Because you're right, from the moment we met, Rick's heart has belonged to me. And I have no intention of ever letting him go. For that reason, you should never feel sorry for me or my baby. I have my husband, and my child knows who and where its father is now, and will always be. Right here with us. Not ducking and dodging my calls, trying desperately to escape your special brand of crazy. But, I do hope you find your baby's father, because she's going to need someone saner than you to raise her, so that she doesn't end up as pathetic and clueless as you are." Arms crossed over my chest, I'm breathing heavy, growing angrier with each venom dipped word.


"Rick, you are really going to throw away nearly 25 years of friendship for her? I've known you almost my whole life. We have been destined for each other since we could walk and talk. I don't know what hold she has over you…what-what she has done to you, but-"


"I'm in love with her, Lori. She's going to be my wife. She's the mother of my baby, and my life belongs to her. You have to move on."


An exasperated rush of hair falls from her lips, as though she can't believe what she's hearing. Holding the front door open, and looking me over, a self-satisfied sneer mangles Lori's lips. In that moment, I have all the confirmation that I need to confirm that she isn't all there. There really is something wrong with her. I don't know what caused it, but it's there, festering and feeding on any semblance of reality that may have ever existed in her damaged mind. But right now, I can also see the light of an epiphany transforming her smirk into a genuine look of defeat.


Turning her withered glare my way, her watery brown eyes focus on me. "Ok. All I'm going to say is this, you might think Rick belongs to you, but you don't know Ellen Stafford-Grimes. She's thinking of ways to take this place from Rick's father in the divorce, and disinherit him as we speak. Rick, you may be free of me, but this is not over with your mother yet. Not by a long shot. So, good luck on that happy ever after that will never happen." With a flounce, she turns and leaves out of the front door.


For a moment Rick and I can only stand there and look at the now closed door. As I'm wondering what the hell just happened, a bout of nausea swells within me, causing me to break out into a damp sweat. With a few minute spasms of my diaphragm, I'm sensing the bile rising in my throat. I take off running towards the bathroom. As though my actions have shaken him from his stunned stupor, Rick follows closely behind, witnessing me throwing up every bit of the large breakfast my mother served, and I voraciously devoured, this morning.


On my knees, resting my forehead on my forearms near the rim of the toilet bowl, I can hear Rick wetting a washcloth in the sink. Crouching down, he places the cool cloth on my forehead, and across the back of my neck, his hand soothingly riding the angles of my drained shoulders.


"Thank you. I knew I shouldn't have eaten so much, but I was so hungry. Your son likes to eat but does not know how to hold on to it." I grumble, closing my eyes at the chilling relief delivered by the cloth against my clammy skin.


"Our daughter just doesn't realize she's upsetting her mama's tummy. The doctor said it should pass soon. Let's hope it does. Come on let me help you up."


Lifting me up from the floor, Rick easily gathers me in his capable arms. Walking over to the couch, he plops down with me still cradled to his chest, and rests me on his lap. Not wanting him to get mired in the negative feelings that Lori's presence and words have kicked up, but also not wanting to dismiss the potential need for him to talk it out, I lean into him, snuggling close. "Do you want to talk about what happened? With Lori?"


"No. I want you to lay here and rest for a moment while I get my stuff so we can get the hell out of here."


"I'll help you. Make it go quicker."


"Nah. Relax. You were just throwing up a few minutes ago."


"Well I'm not now."


"The baby needs you strong. Just rest."


Hearing the finality in his voice, I kiss his cheek before he can move me over to the pillowy cushions of the couch. Mindful that I just threw up and that he might not want to get too close to my mouth, and the remaining rankness of my breath, I don't let the kiss linger for too long.


"I'll give you a better kiss later. But, I want you to know I love you. No matter what it's you and me forever, Rick. No more taking breaks. I'm done taking breaks. I just wanted you to know that."


"I love you too, pretty girl. Let me hurry up so we can go." Rick declares, and places a long, soft kiss directly on my lips.




"So what kind of wedding are you thinking, Michy? Big traditional one? Small? Outside, inside? I'm sure Father Gabriel would love to do the ceremony if we ask him."


"Uh. Yeah I'm sure he would." Clearing my throat, not wanting to get caught in a lie, I attempt to steer the conversation away from discussion of Father Gabriel for now, as Rick and I do not want anyone to know that we have already taken sacred vows to each other. It was something strictly for us, and we would like it to remain that way. A wedding ceremony and reception is something that we are both ok with, but that doesn't really mean much to us now. We've already made the promise that our hearts and souls are bound together for life, so the rest, including the legal part, feels like it's more a technicality for others than for us.


With a variety of bridal magazines spread out on the coffee table, and my iPad in my lap going through different dresses, and ideas on Pinterest, it occurs to me that I don't even know what kind of wedding that Rick would want, or that I would want for that matter. I've never been that little girl who gave her wedding day that much thought. In fact, the whole time I was with Mike, and our marriage seemed like a forgone thought, the actual wedding and what I wanted it to look like, never crossed my mind. Realizing that, I'm lost in thought for a moment, trying to think of what out of all of the pictures, dresses, themes, locations that we have looked over today really caught my eye. As I'm going through the slideshow in my mind, my mother breaks through my thoughts.


"I can't believe you're going to be someone's wife. Someone's mother. And so soon." With a wistful look on her beautiful face, smooth and dark, not a wrinkle in sight, my mother appears to be struggling with a mix of pride, shock, and something else that I can't quite place.


"Are you ok with this, Mom? Are you upset? Disappointed?" I ask, slightly afraid of her answer. Mona has never been the kind of mother that held her tongue. Instead she has always been drastically clear about her expectations of me in terms of my behavior, and my educational performance, though she did give some leeway when my father died. And even though some would bristle at the stern directness of her communication, she has also always been loving and supportive when I don't always meet her expectations, or exceed them. It's the intensity of this life change that makes me insecure in her approval of me, and question her response.


"No, it's neither of those things. This is your life, Michy, not mine. You are young though, and I always expected that you would finish school before marriage and babies, but look at God laughing at my plans and expectations. You have done so much more than I ever thought you would, in such a short amount of time. Always ahead of the game. You started crawling at 4 months old, and walking at 9 months old, reading at 3. Your father always thought you were hurrying to get out of the way of another baby, but that never happened for us. Anyway, I suppose I should have known you weren't going to follow a traditional path for your life." Laughing lightly, her lips strain with the tug of a tiny smile at her own memories of my youth, accelerated progression, and her and my father's unfulfilled hopes for another child.


"I do feel sad that your father is missing this. He's still with us, I feel his soul, his presence with me every day. But, it's bittersweet that he's not going to be able to give you away, or hold his grandson. But, I'm also excited for you to embark on this journey with Rick. You guys fought hard for each other, and now I just want you to be able to enjoy your lives together. A lot of change is coming, baby girl, fast. Hershel and I are very excited, and proud, and want to help make this all as easy for you guys as we can. We want you to make it. And well, we can't wait to get our hands on this baby!"


"Thanks, Mom. I miss dad everyday. I think about him, wonder if he would have liked Rick. If he would have been disappointed or angry with me. If he knows how much I love and miss him."


"He knows, baby. And I know he is happy for you. Your father was so in tuned with you. He fiercely loved his little princess. He doted on you, and was always so proud of you. Do you remember how he used to take you to his classroom, to his lectures? And how you would sit there and take notes! He knew you are something special, little girl. In his eyes, you were perfection personified, and don't you ever forget it." As she speaks about my father, his love for me, her recollection creates a sheen of fat tears to dance in her dark brown eyes. On a series of rapid blinks, they fall, cascading across her full cheeks, so much like my own. Her expression of emotion is catalyst for my own, and a similar rain of memory laced tears drop from my own eyes. Connecting and bonding with me over my father, my mother joins me on the couch. Feeling anchored together by our shared love of all things Andre Kelly, we hold each other tightly, and allow the catharsis of this emotionally fusing moment to cover us.


Swabbing her own tears with her thin, small fingers, from her own face, then dusting away mine as well, my mother smiles down at me. "Andre probably would have liked Rick once he got over the shock that you two were having sex. Over the age difference. Over a baby and marriage. But, he definitely would have respected and admired the way you both fight for each other. How you've matured. At the life and the family, you are both trying to create for yourselves. Your father loved a good romance. But he also loved a good fight. He was definitely not a quitter. Oh, and I know he would be excited about a grandson!"


"Hey! You said grandson. You think it's a boy too? I'm pretty sure it is. I don't know why I just do. Rick wants a girl though."


"Yeah, I think it's a boy. I don't know why either. Maybe it's because this family could use a little testosterone. The closest Hershel or I have to sons are all of these wayward nephews we have. Starting with that hellion, Shane, that keeps running after Sasha. Now those two are trouble. You can see the sparks just flying off of them whenever they are near each other. That Spencer boy doesn't stand a chance."


Feeling a little guilty at harboring the secret of Sasha and Shane's secret tryst last night, I nervously inquire about my mother's statements, curious about what she suspects. "Why do you say that, Mom? Did you see or hear something?" Sitting up, I release her from my fierce hug, and await her response.


"No. Well, yes I guess we all did. You saw how upset Shane was when Sasha showed up with her new 'husband'." Using her fingers to denote air quotes, she simultaneously rolls her eyes at the mention of Spencer as Sasha's husband. "That girl is scrambling, looking for a lighthouse in the storm, and Spencer was the first boat that offered her safety. She's always been that way. Her life has always been wild, unpredictable, bobbing away in choppy waters. And she seemed to thrive in that environment. But now, something has her needing a little more stability, a sure thing. Maybe it's that her father is getting married again. Maybe it's witnessing this connection you have with Rick. Maybe she is afraid of whatever she had going on with Shane. Who knows? Spencer seems like a good safe bet for her right now though. But you know your cousin, you know yourself too, Michy. Safe and predictable isn't always what we want though, is it? Sometimes you want passion. You want what you think you can't, or shouldn't have. Your uncle and I watched that Spencer follow her around like a love sick puppy last night, and she would give him just enough to keep him on her string. And some men like that. He seems content with that. But, Shane? They were both eyeing each other all night. I thought Sasha was going to scratch that girl's eyes out. The one who came with Shane? Something interesting is going on there. I say we all step back, mind our own business, and stay tuned."


"Hm. You might be right, Mom. It really shocked me when she showed up and said she got married. It's so unlike her."


"Is it? Sasha wants love, a family, a husband. Everything that her own parents never seemed to be able to give her. She just also wants to be able to fly, to be free to be herself, and still do what she wants to do. To live the life she wants on her terms. A lot of men are not going to be ok with that. She seems to have found him. But I guarantee you, he doesn't set her wild ass on fire like Shane does. That's the problem."


Giving my mother's words some thought I consider the words I overheard hollered between Sasha and Shane last night. The way their bodies seemed drawn to each other. The cries of ecstasy that erupted in the culmination of their impetuous coupling outside of Hershel's office. "I think it's gonna be trouble, but who am I to criticize. I want my cousin to be happy. I am going to miss her though. With her in Virginia and me in Boston. It's gonna be our firtst time away from each other."


"I know. I'm going to miss both of you. You've been my girls forever, but you have to grow up and find your own happiness. Plus, I'll always be here happy to help you both. Waiting to get my hands on this baby! Oh I can't wait!"


"Mom!"


"I can't. You know, Hershel and I both can't. It's like we have been blessed with so many gifts this last year. Each other. All of you girls. This baby. Rick. We want to keep paying these blessings forward."


Hearing my stomach grumble through my mother's words, I sheepishly smile at her, and stand from the couch. "I'm gonna grab a snack really quick. I guess this baby is hungry. You want me to bring you anything from the kitchen?"


"Oh yes! Some sweet tea please, honey."


"Alright. Be right back."


As soon as I enter the kitchen, I hear the doorbell ring. Hearing my mother yell that she has it, I don't move. Instead I continue cutting myself a slice of cake from last night's party. Mouth watering at the thought of devouring the sweet red velvet cake, I catch the distinctly southern twang of Rick's mother's voice coming from the foyer, addressing my mother.


"Good afternoon, Mona."


"This is a surprise, Ellen. What can I do for you?"


"I came over here to speak with you. I thought a mother to mother chat might be helpful given the most recent news of what our children have gotten themselves in to." Rick's mother offers, her voice dripping with a syrupy sweetness that is so fake that it's making me no longer want to partake of the sugary confection in front of me.


"I'm not sure what there is for us to discuss, but come on in. I can spare a moment for family." I can hear the snarky sarcasm in my mother's voice. The hint of a teasing bite in her use of the word 'family' to sting Rick's mother with the truth of our impending connection.


"Hm. Family. That's what I want to talk to you about."


"Can I take your coat?"


"I won't be staying long."


"Suit yourself. Have a seat." 


Hearing them settle into the living room, I peak around the corner to see if I catch get a view of them without being noticed as an eavesdropping, interloper. Seated prim and proper, perched on the edge of the couch in front of the table of wedding magazines, Rick's mother lightly grazes her fingers over the bright joyful smiles on the glossy covers. Scanning with her blue eyes, the images of the elegantly dressed brides, and the proud handsome grooms. She picks up one and seems to admire the photo on the cover, as a tiny smile of her own overtakes her lips. Turning the magazine cover, she shows it to my mother who is seated in a wingback chair directly to her right. In a well worn pair of wrangler blue jeans, cowboy boots, and turtleneck sweater, her coat thrown over her lap, and her long braid over her shoulder, Rick's mother looks every bit the country matriarch she tries to be. It's a stark comparison to the confident, urban chic of my mother's designer skinny jeans, and oversized, soft pink cashmere sweater.


On a sigh, his mother speaks, breaking the silence in the room. "This is how I imagined my Rick's wedding day. I suppose that was a foolish idea, given that he is apparently so very much like his grandfather before him. A romantic fool like his father. I had hoped that such a damaging predilection for whimsy would not take root in my boys, but Jeff has taken up with some Asian woman, and now my Rick has pretty much done the same. Both of them, completely disregarding a long standing legacy, a tradition. I don't understand it. I don't understand them. Perhaps I never have."


"Well, we have to allow our children to make their own way. To create their own legacies and traditions. They are their own people, who can choose the lives they want for themselves. You have to respect that, or get left out in the cold."


"And this doesn't bother you, Mona? That your daughter has chosen a path so different from the one you imagined for her. The future you wanted for her."


"I only care that my daughter is happy. I did imagine that her future husband would look different. But at the end of the day, I only care that the husband she has chosen for herself behaves like the one I always hoped she would have."


Honestly, Ellen, we don't get to choose for them, so really what does it matter? You can not pick for them. It's crazy to assume that you can. And despite how deeply entrenched you are in an ugly legacy of prejudiced and harmful views, you have somehow given my daughter the gift of a handsome, smart, kind, and respectful man. I guess for that I have to say thank you." 


Scoffing at my mother's unexpected expression of appreciation, Rick's mother continues. "I have only ever wanted to protect my boys. Protect what is rightfully theirs. And for that I have been looked upon as some vile, controlling, bitch. But, from one mother to another, I am just willing to do whatever it takes to ensure their protection, and the survival of my family, my people. That's not so wrong, is it? How do you think that Rick will feel when this baby is born, and it looks nothing like him? Do you think he will feel connected to that child?" Ellen makes a face of revulsion, drawing back in disgust, even as she makes a fruitless attempt to appeal to my mother's sense of an instinctual parental need to protect their offspring.


I can see my mother lean forward from her relaxed position on the couch, and narrow her eyes on Rick's mother sitting across from her. "Like you said, Ellen, you don't know your son at all do you? Rick is a smart, kind, and loving young man. And he loves my daughter. Michonne is going to be his wife, the mother of his children. I am certain that when he put that ring on her finger, that he had already considered that his and my daughter's children will be black. I don't know him that well, but I'm sure that the prospect of their coloring suits him just fine. He's the one who chose their mother, the woman that will give them that beautiful coloring. And while that seems to cause you great distress, I can assure you that they will be beautiful, and that he will love and protect them in a way that you obviously are incapable of. Even for your own child, who is the same color as you are. Who shares the same blue eyes as you do. How shortsighted of you to think that anything as arbitrary as color would change his love for Michonne or their children."


"This world is not going to be easy for them. To welcome them, or love them with the same starry eyed romanticism as my son. Why would I want that for Rick? Why would you want that for your daughter? How naïve of you to think that this will turn out well for them. Let me remind you, that Rick chose Lori first. And he did that for a reason. He saw something in her that he liked, that he could connect with. Who is to say that he won't see reason one day, when it gets hard? When they are met with derision and scorn. Shouldn't we try to save them from that pain and disappointment now? They are young, and impetuous, and they don't understand how the real world works." She asks, pleading with my mother, her voice choking and rising with a measure of emotion that I would not have expected from someone who seems as measured and cold as she usually does.


"No, Ellen, I think you don't understand how the real world works. You have lived sequestered in King County for too long. Your poor husband has allowed you to run things for too long. While you were mired in these archaic ideas about race, the world kept evolving, and apparently it has evolved right past you. Yes, they might be met with racist assholes like yourself, but they love each other, and they have made a choice to share their lives with each other, to make a family. That means they also choose to deal with those issues together, as a family. And yes, I will do everything I can to protect them from people like you, who would harm them and their happiness, for their own stupid reasons. 


"You need to really think hard about this, Ellen. Think about how everything you have ever done to try and control your husband and sons has backfired on you. You've lost them all, and you will never know your grandchildren if you stay on this path. And God help you if I ever get wind that you were meddling with my daughter and her family again."


"I see that there is no reasoning with you. I had hoped that we could find some common ground here. I may have meddled, maybe even overstepped, but I did it out of love for my family. For my desire to see my family's traditions continue, unfettered, undiluted. But, I fear that you're right, Mona. I've lost them, and I hate that. But, I'm willing to live with it, because I know that I tried my best to do what I thought was right. You can all vilify me if you want. I'm sure you will anyway."


"You've done that all on your own, no one had to turn you into a villain, Ellen. You made yourself a villain the minute you decided to come for my daughter. The moment you preyed on your own husband and children to further your own agenda. I pity how out of touch you are, but I think it's time for you to go. I don't want you to upset my daughter. She is pregnant with your son's baby after all."


With those words, Rick's mother wordlessly rises from her seat, and heads to the front door. "You don't really know anything about me, Mona, but I love my son. I hope he knows that. Even if I don't agree with this mess he has made of his life, I love him still."


Holding the door open for her to leave, my mother stands to the side. "If you did, you wouldn't continue to be the negative shrew that you really are, even when you are confronted with the truth of his choices. That's not how love works." My mother offers her as she exits our home, the door quietly announcing her departure from our lives. Hopefully for good.












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