* E N I D.
❛ it’s not like it matters. ❜
what did it matter if she wasn’t fine ? nobody was fine, and enid wasn’t familiar with that feeling anymore. she hadn’t been ever since the death of her parents. back then, she had managed to rebound, scavenging on her own for survival so that their deaths weren’t in vain. but carl’s death was a scalpel that pried open the wound that had never fully healed. he was so stupid to save siddiq – if he hadn’t done it, he would be alive. enid knew that her anger was displaced and irrational, but she could not extinguish its flames. and she burned because of it, scorching others in her wake. she shouldn’t be so brash, especially with lori. after all, enid knew that the woman’s family was her livelihood.
lori had watched carl grow into a young man who saved absolute strangers because he knew it was good and right to help people. she had taught him how to love. and enid knew it because she felt it from him. love was forgiveness, yet love was unrelenting. for carl, love had yielded demise. for enid, love had yielded loss. enid’s own mother’s words still resonated, ‘ it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, ’ though enid was not sure whether she still agreed. her mother never knew what it was like to lose someone like carl grimes.
but lori did.
it was just that enid couldn’t bring herself to say anything else, eyes brimming with tears like a child. others had lost him, too. she crossed her arms over her chest, fingers digging into her skin so hard that she knew it should hurt, but she couldn’t feel it. numbness had overtaken her once again, just like it had when she watched in shock as the others walked through the gates without carl. she could only imagine what lori had felt, but she couldn’t begin to put herself in lori’s shoes yet. she could hardly manage her own pain. she wanted to tell lori she was sorry, to even hug her or squeeze her hands, something to show that she cared. she opened her mouth to speak, but every thought that came to mind seemed wrong. there was very little right that one could say to a mother grieving the loss of her son. instead she bit her lip and shook her head, backing away ever slowly. anything she said would only hurt lori. or would it ? would it help her to talk about it, to comfort someone ? enid knew mothers had instincts like that, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready to open up just yet.
❝ ‘course it does. ❞ enid was clearly someone who had learned to avoid her feelings in order to survive, to push out all pain and grief and fear. but those were the very things that separated man from walker ; it was what made them human. lori wished that the young girl could see there was no shame in weakness — not this kind, anyway. especially not in a time of peace, with space to heal and no more war to fight.
lori watched with soft eyes as enid folded her arms against her chest, opened her mouth to utter a reply, and then backed away in silence, tears brimming. of course lori knew exactly what was on the teenager’s mind — or rather, who. she could see the emotion bubbling up inside the girl, threatening to burst after being contained for too long.
maybe lori wasn’t the best person to help her open up, given that she was carl’s mother, but the two of them were bound to have this sort of conversation at some point. enid was her son’s only friend his age, someone who he could be a kid with, someone he cared about and who made him smile. lori never thanked enid for that, nor had she ever spoken to enid beyond basic small-talk, and it was about time that changed.
instincts giving in, lori quickly approached enid and then let her arms wrap around the girl’s frame. though she had never hugged the girl before ( and still barely knew her ), it felt natural, not the least bit awkward — at least, not for lori. because as her hands settled about enid’s shoulder blades, it occurred to her that carl wasn’t a whole lot taller than she was, nor much bigger. lori found herself holding on tighter. enid’s heart was longing for a mother to comfort her, and lori’s yearned for a child to hold.
❝ oh, sweetheart... ❞ lori said, voice barely above a whisper. ❝ you meant so much to him. ❞ speaking about her son in the past tense came naturally now, no longer a second thought. but anytime he was ever even mentioned, by her or anyone else, she was always painfully aware. this was no exception ; referring to carl directly may have broken the ice, per se, but lori could already feel the tension spreading through her body, starting at her throat. she pulled back a bit, feeling the need to make eye contact even through both of their nerves and any embarrassment enid might’ve felt. her hands moved to frame the teenager’s face, the same way she used to comfort carl.
swallowing, lori continued with some difficulty. ❝ and i — i can’t tell you how grateful we are that... that he had a friend like you. ❞ now the tears began to form at her own lash line. those words were taken straight from the heart, making them difficult to spit out. was friend even the right way to describe enid’s relationship to carl ? perhaps that was a conversation for another time. lori forced herself to go on with a struggle audible in her tone, though she knew that this was the opportune moment to get out the things she needed to say. these were words she long owed enid.
❝ he forgot how to be a kid. and you — you helped him remember. ❞ rick and lori understood that it was impossible to be good parents while also trying to be their son’s friend. it was something that they alone couldn’t give him. lori’s lips trembled, the ends managing to flicker upward into a weak but genuine smile. her voice broke as she uttered her next painful phrase. ❝ thank you for making my boy happy. ❞
