Sleep did not come easily to Michonne and when it did, she dreamt of him. She only remembered the details in pieces, but the emotions she felt was palpable. In the dream, she stood in a field of flowers which surrounding a vast calm lake. The sky was clear and blue and there were birds chirping.
He was there, of course. She remembered his smile and how his closeness made her feel. He had taken her face in his hands, making her pulse quicken when his honeyed mouth was against hers.
She woke just as they settled in the field of flowers, skin pressing against skin. It was what could have happened on Maya's porch had she not pulled away abruptly after the second kiss.
There was a fight between two opposing sides within her. One that fought to guard her heart from further heartbreak and the other that just wanted to give in to what was clearly and rapidly forming between them.
The former side won.
"It's pretty late." She cleared her throat nervously as she slid away from him. She adjusted her blouse, fixed a stray loc, and then suddenly found the wooden armrest more interesting than any further conversation or physical interaction. "I want to be up early tomorrow and it's been a long day."
Michonne didn’t particularly care for jogging outdoors.
The gym in her upscale contemporary apartment building afforded her with all the exercise she desired and she never had to set foot outside. Unfortunately, after the mammoth meal her mother presented during their dinner for two, she didn’t have the luxury of stepping into an elevator to climb onto a treadmill or exercise bike.
It was for that reason she found herself standing on the sidewalk outside her mother’s house at six in the morning, stretching her muscles before her run. Thankfully, her joyride with Rick gave her a general idea of the town’s layout.
She peeked up at the large house across the street as she lunged back with her right foot, holding her stretch. Now that she was closer, she observed the ivy ferns that grew against the sides of the house, the eerie silence, the waterless stone fountains. Against the early dawn light, the remnants of the merrier times filled with splendour were almost visible.
She smiled thinking of the man behind the walls with his dark curly hair and his mesmerising ocean blue eyes. She wondered if she would see him before he joined her and Maya for dinner that evening and secretly hoped for that possibility.
She turned on her exercise playlist, popping her earbuds in her ear as she turned away from the house.
The balmy air of the early spring morning swept against her skin as she started her run down the sidewalk in the direction of Town Hall. Her steady gait is almost soundless as her feet pushed rhythmically against the pavement. The two houses are soon behind her, replaced with a different variety of Porter’s scenery.
She ran past the large white church building that doubled as the Town Hall, toward the road overlooking the valley to Main Street.
She stopped outside the small Post Office, sitting on a sidewalk bench to catch her breath and enjoy the early morning bustle before the return home.
“Hey out-of-towner!”
A smile formed on her lips when she heard the familiar voice. From the periphery of her vision, she saw him approaching from the direction she came from, in a slow jog of his own. Her gaze slid to the side and she offered a smile to the dark-haired mayor, drenched in sweat.
Porter, VA - Population: 299. Michonne makes an unwanted trip to an odd little Virginia town just in time for their annual turnip festival. Repeated encounters with the town's mayor leads to an unexpectedly enjoyable stay.
Day 2
Porter, VA - Population: 299
The morning sky was bright and cloudless and the air still and tranquil. The neighborhood was deceptively quiet. Other than the twin voices, the only sounds were the creaking sound of rope against wood and the birds chirping merrily in the solar lighted fluted bird bath in the center of the garden.
"A turnip festival?"
Michonne smiled at the chirping birds, surprised gardening held her fickle mother's interest long enough for her to cultivate an immaculately landscaped front yard.
It was impressive.
"Yes, we have it every year. It's a longstanding tradition."
"And your plan is for us to make sculptures out of turnips to enter a competition at the festival?" Michonne asked making sure she was understanding what her mother was proposing.
"A sculpture, not sculptures. I want to stand out. Nobody'll think to do that. I think we can win this year and beat Annette Greene." Maya reached for her tea cup, taking a dainty sip. "I can't believe you've never visited me out here. It took a broken hip to finally drag you to Porter."
Michonne sighed, kicking her feet to make the porch swing rock in a faster, but steady, back and forth motion. "How are you feeling Mom?"
"I feel fine. Like a spring chicken," she assured her. "It's been over a month since the surgery. I can move around without breaking anything else."
"Okay. Just making sure," Michonne said. "So, where exactly are we going to get all these turnips to make a sculpture the size of the kitchen table? You growing some out back?"
"No, but Porter's probably got enough turnips to last us through an apocalypse. One of Hershel's kids will probably bring a truckload over later if I don't make it over there myself."
"A truckload!"
"I'm kidding," she laughed. "Mostly."
Michonne shook her head, glancing across the lawn to the black suburban truck parked in the driveway opposite theirs. "So, you live next door to the town's mayor, huh?" she asked, keeping her tone nonchalant.
The house stood silently and tall across the street. It's muted brown color and barely tended grounds stood out in stark contrast with the bright and almost fantastical home of her mother. It appeared almost ominous. She idly wondered if he lived alone. Like her mother's house, it was rather large for one person.
If it wasn't for the packed church the night before she would have been convinced her mother moved to an abandoned town with three other people.
"That title is a little more casual than it sounds. I take it you've met," Maya responded with a knowing smile. "I saw him making eyes at you yesterday at the meeting. When you walked in. I noticed that."
"He was not." He was, but she wasn't going to admit that to Maya.
"I invited him over for dinner with us, by the way."
"Sure, everything is ending," Jules said, "but not yet."
― Jennifer Egan, A Visit from the Goon Squad
Michonne woke to the sound of muted chatter outside her tent. With thoughts of their uncertain future on her mind, she had barely slept more than a few hours. She desperately yearned to find somewhere that offered more safety and permanence than an open clearing in the middle of a Georgia forest. Their first camp being overrun by walkers was enough to keep her on edge.
"Morning beautiful."
She looked up to find Rick crouched down near the opening of the tent smiling at her. She rose to a sitting position, returning his smile as she stretched her sore muscles. "Good morning to you too."
He peered over his shoulder, before quickly slipping into the small tent with her. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay."
"Me too." He crawled toward her, invading the cramped space of the tent. "So, today's the day."
"Today's the day, huh?" She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.
"It is." His piercing eyes never left hers. "Do I get a kiss? I could use some luck."
"We could all use some." She pressed her lips together, shaking her head, barely fighting back a smile. She pointed to her cheek and his lips quickly followed her finger.
"We're going to start clearing out a van and filling it with some supplies," he said, remembering what he came to tell her. "I have a really good feeling about this."
She nodded, agreeing with the sentiment. "I think it's the best shot we have for now. We can't stay out here forever."
They enjoyed each other's silent company for a few more minutes, before he left her to get ready. Although, it was never verbalized, they shared each other's hopes and fears and took comfort in their combined tenacity.
There are very few experiences more bizarre than hearing deafening Christmas music booming from loudspeaker in May. Michonne had always been of the belief that such music should cease to exist upon the arrival of December 26th, never to be heard again until after the following Thanksgiving.
She hesitantly stepped out of her car surveying the sparsely occupied parking lot. She mentally weighed her options considering how wise it would be to interact with the occupants of the peculiar establishment.
"What is this place?" she muttered, marching reluctantly toward the entrance of the diner with the faded sign all the while wishing she was back in her condo enjoying the view of the city from her patio with her cat. Only because I love her.
The bell over the door jingled when she entered the empty diner. Oddly enough, the music was blasting from large speakers outside instead of something overhead inside the restaurant. The music was still audible with the closed door, but the setup was very peculiar.
This is why I don't do small towns in the middle of nowhere. Breeding ground for weird shit.
"Hello?" She almost chuckled to herself at how much she sounded like a woman in a horror movie. "I'm looking for some directions!"
She looked around the small diner, which had all the familiar trappings she imagines a small town diner would. It was narrow and elongated with a service counter at the center with checker-tiled floors. There was even a large jukebox on the far side of the diner.
Michonne slipped into the empty chair at the table for four, catching the end of the introductions between her childhood friend, her cousin and her best friend in adulthood. “I’m so sorry I’m late, ladies.”
“It’s fine.” Andrea waved a hand, taking a sip of her red wine. “We haven’t even been here that long.”
“I had to meet with André’s piano teacher and get some other things settled since he’s gonna be in Vermont with his Dad this week.”
“Ah motherhood.” Maggie smiled fondly. “Glenn and I are so looking forward to that in a few months.”
“Oh are you…?”
Maggie nodded, biting her lip and a chorus of congratulations and hugs followed.
“I can’t wait to have kids. Preferably with a sane man with no criminal background,” Andrea said. “They had better get my good looks too. Michonne got lucky and managed to spit out her clone. How’s my favorite kid in the world doing by the way?”
“Aww, I haven’t seen him since he was a baby,” Maggie added. “I know he must have gotten so big, I probably wouldn’t recognize him.”
“He’s good and he’s growing so much every day. I wish I could just keep him tiny forever. I actually have to go pick him up from his lessons in about two hours. He’s off school for the rest of the week so it’s gonna be bring your kid to work day tomorrow and Wednesday.”
“Hell yeah! I’m going to have a partner in crime. Sorry about hijacking your lunch date, by the way,” she added apologetically. Michonne and Sasha already had lunch scheduled as part of their unofficial reconciliation attempts, and Andrea and Maggie were simply last minute additions to the party.
Friday afternoon, Michonne sat folded into the couch in her loft, staring at the blank canvas across the room. The sound of the doorbell ringing broke her from her thoughts causing her to jump slightly at the sound. Her eyes shifted to the table clock checked the clock in worry that time had gotten away from her.
She wasn't expecting Michael until four-thirty.
"Is that daddy?" André asked, looking up from his coloring. He enjoyed emulating his mother and would often join her in the loft whenever she slipped away to work. She enjoyed his company and he, ever a thoughtful child, made an effort not to be too distracting. He observed her in her element and mimicked her calm and focus with ease.
Unfortunately, today with her ever working mind, he was the only one utilizing his artistry.
"I don't think so," she said, stretching her cramped muscles as she rose from the paint splattered couch. It had better not be him, she thought. He seemed to have gotten the message when she told him not to come up to her apartment unannounced. "I'll be back in a sec."
Michonne jogged down the loft stairs, picking up a stray toy in the living room as she went to answer the door. Her soft music from her earlier baking adventure echoed around her as she passed.
She let out a sigh of relief and the familiar light feeling returned when she looked through the peephole to identify the unexpected visitor. "What brings you here on this fine day Sheriff?"
"I'm a little early, I know. I hope that's okay. I meant to call but…" He pulled his hand from behind his back revealing a bouquet of purple roses and lilacs. "For you."
"Thank you. What's this for?" She asked as she took them admiring the vibrant colors.
"I don't need a reason. Just somethin' pretty for someone pretty." A smile seemed to be permanently etched on her face whenever he was around. He loved seeing her smile. It was as if the sun itself was painted across her ethereal face.
"Sweet talker." She leaned up on her tiptoes giving him a soft kiss and he wound his arm around her waist pulling her body flush against his as their kiss deepened. He felt a stirring in his pants as she lightly ground her body against his.
"We alone?" he asked when they pulled away to catch their breath.
"No, my mini-me is up in the loft working on his next great masterpiece. I have the future Picasso in the making over here."
"Creative like his Mama, huh?" Rick patted her behind as he let her go and entered the apartment, shutting the door behind him. Snoopy ran up to greet him, nipping happily at his feet.
Michonne touched her fingers to her cheek, taking in the sketches on her desk at MAW Events with a sigh. It was her first day back at her main job after a considerable amount of time away. Her restlessness had her attention scattered and she found it difficult to create an aesthetic suitable for the theme wedding her clients had in mind.
Her thoughts were everywhere at once.
When she wasn’t thinking about Rick Grimes, she was thinking about the L-word. When she wasn’t thinking about that, she was thinking about her impending meeting with André’s father.
Michael had called her day before insisting that they meet to have a very frank discussion. Due to her mother’s revelation weeks before, she already had a good idea of what the subject of their discussion would be.
“Maybe guardsmen?” she mumbled to herself as she flipped through the selected fabric swatches still feeling uninspired.
“Look who’s back and hard at work. Vacation must be over.”
Michonne smiled up at her best friend and business partner who stood in the doorway with her morning coffee in hand grinning back at her. “Trying.”
“That for the Smith’s?” She asked nodding to Michonne’s overcrowded work desk.
“Yep,” she sighed. “I’m meeting with them tomorrow morning to go over some designs for the wedding folder, potential vendors and a finalized head count and a rough timeline. There’s so much to do and every time we meet there’s drama.”
“They seemed a little…”
“Like they wanted completely different things,” she finished for her. “It happens. I just have to figure out how to create a perfect blend of fairytale wedding with a hint of NRA wedding without it being a tacky mess.”
“We’ll come up with something good. As long as they’re not planning on a confederate theme to go along with all that confusion.” She waved her hand at Michonne’s desk to emphasize her point.
“Definitely not,” Michonne replied. “I made myself super clear, so I doubt it’ll even be a suggestion. It’s definitely not one for the portfolio though.”
Andrea stepped further into the room, plopping down on a chair in the far corner of the room. “So, what else is on that beautiful mind of yours, babe?”
“A lot.”
Andrea snapped her fingers and nodded her head knowingly. “Sex.”
“I don’t share a mind with you anymore you know.” She might have had a daydream, or several, about naked painting and late-night truck sexcapades, but she'd never admit that Andrea was right.
“Deny it all you want,” she sang. “You’re not fooling nobody.”
“Well besides thinking about sex, Michael wants to meet up with me this afternoon to discuss something important.”
Andrea scrunched up her nose at the mention of his name. “The engagement?”
“Most likely. I guess that’s what he’s been trying to tell me this past few weeks. Thank God it’s not another plea to get back together or I can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do to him.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you hide the body,” Andrea joked. “Can’t he just call you up on the phone and tell you like a normal shitty ex? Why do you need to have a whole lunch? He’s so dramatic,” she complained stomping her foot. “We’re supposed to have lunch and now I gotta eat alone today? You think there’s more to it?”
