inking pie

Merle Dixon’s arrival shifted the air in the room, right on cue, like the next door neighbour’s dog, Chap, barks whenever the toilet flushes. He projects an idiosyncratic effect on Daryl. Daryl looked up to him, having him as the closest thing to a role model in the toxic household he grew up in, but as he grew older, his assessment of Merle shifted. Witnessing the real world just a bit more will put anyone into full perspective. To walk away from Merle though, never seemed possible for him. Despite his inappropriate opinions, violent behaviours and constant insults - Merle was blood, the only one he has in the world, before you showed up. 

You pick up your bag and turn to Daryl, cupping his face to turn his attention back to you, “Hey, pick me up after work?” 

He nods and places one more kiss on your forehead before drawing the curtain open for you to leave, he purposely pulls you behind him in order to conceal you from Merle’s eyes, even though it is not easy since he is collapsed like an octopus with its tentacles stretched open, right in the middle on the couch, ready to swirl anything into his vortex as he pleases. He looks up at you two, a can of beer in hand.

“Well, well, lookee here. Baby brother playin’ house.” He slurs, following with another sip.

“Shut it, Merle. Ain’t nothin’ t’ do with you.” Daryl wraps an arm around your waist, leading you to where the front door is, wanting so much to get you out of his sight. 

Merle barks a laugh, “Everything’s got somethin’ t’ do with me. Don’t forget who put a roof over that thick skull of yours.” Then he turns to look at you, eyeing you up and down in an improper way which you’ve grown used to but still uncomfortable with, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I ain’t gonna harm yah.”

“Bye, Merle.” You walk out the already opened door without giving him a second look. 

“Leave ‘er outta this.” Daryl growls at him as follows, slamming the door behind him as a way to express his unspoken anger. 

The walk to the bus stop is often fast paced, Daryl’s eyes spend darting around the area self-consciously, terrified that his neighbour might make some obscene comments towards you, or maybe one day, sooner or later, you’d come to your senses that he belongs to this group of unpleasant beings of the society. If you weren’t so insistent, he would have never brought you back to his home to begin with. Chap eagerly tugs his chain to the furthest it can go as he sees you two walk by. You wave at the dog with a smile, his eyes the most prominent feature of his jet black body. Daryl kicks the beer cans scattered on the road, a nervous tactic but also to clear a path for you to walk. A young woman, looks no more than thirty is lounging in her chair with a cigarette in hand, recovering from a hangover from the night before by having more alcohol. The place is always like this, messy, chaotic and filled with optimists living through each day to their fullest in their own ways.  Daryl’s mood clearly hasn’t recovered from earlier, he murmurs quietly as he pulls you away from Chap.

“What time y’ get off today?’ 

“Eleven.”

“’k.”

“Wanna come to mine and watch a movie or somethin’?” You tie your hair up into a ponytail as you make your way to the main road.

“Yah.” He pauses, “Sorry ‘bout Merle.” 

“It’s fine, it’s not like I’ve never seen him before. But seriously, you should consider my offer. Elly wouldn’t mind it.” It isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned having him move in with you but Daryl always defers his answer. The place you are renting with your friend isn’t luxurious in any way but it beats that raggedy trailer, and anything is better than being surrounded by Merle all the time. 

“Dunno...Maybe.” He places his hands into his jeans as you two stand side by side waiting for your bus to come. 

“Think about it, ok?” You place a hand on his back and lean closer to him, resting your head on his arm. “I’d love that.” 

Your eyes meet, catching him off guard so he does the one thing he does best- deflecting, ruffling your hair whilst uttering, “Yer bus’ here.” 

The almost empty bus waggles as it approaches, the mechanical sound it makes signaling the end of its life span. 

“Hey! I just did my hair.” You smooth the top of your head with a pout. He thinks to himself that you are quite adorable when you do that, but he doesn’t tell you. 

“Looks fine to me.” He bites the nail bed of his thumb, nervously hiding his affection.

With one step ready to hop on the bus, the other still pointed at his direction, you give his hand one last squeeze. “Well, thanks. I’ll see you later.” 

He nods, watches you get on, followed by one final wave before the bus carries you away. He stands on the side of the road just a while longer, reluctant to go back home, wondering if with one bus ticket, he could just ride away with you, away from this life, his past. He looks at the sunset from behind the mountains, bleeding orange like fully bloomed tiger lily only to vanish in the next breath, where the darkness swallows him whole and traps him in-between rows after rows of hills. 

It was also a night shift at the Ridley Diner that summer, the place was half empty and you stood idly behind the counter when two rough looking guys with unfamiliar faces walked in, their ragged clothes and sweaty bodies were covered in motor oil. Your manager signaled you to sit them to the back and specifically reminded you to tell them to be careful with the newly replaced leather seats on the booths. “How could I prevent that? Tell them to have them food standing up?” You thought to yourself. The older looking one was sitting like he owned the place, he showed confidence or to describe more accurately, he seemed reckless with the way he smirked when he spotted you approaching. His lips curved into a big wide smile as he saw you in your white shirt, cinched in around the waist and black mini skirt that hugged your thighs.

 “Welcome to Ridley, what can I get you today?” You flipped open your notepad, pencil readied to jot down their orders. 

“A big piece’a you, sweetheart.” He smirked at you.

“Well, sorry, this, ain’t on the menu.” You mentally rolled your eyes. “But the peach cobbler is, best in town.”

 “How ‘bout I pick yah up after you finish, sweetheart? We can go have some fun.”

His eyes stilled fixed on you. 

“How ‘bout you order and have some fun with the cobbler?” 

The younger one sat across the table had his head down the entire time, eyes peeled to the laminated menu, an amused but reserved smile across his face as he finally looked up, eyes the colour of worn denim, “Quit it, Merle. Cobbler’s fine. ‘nd two coffees.” He placed the menu down on the table. 

“Great, coming right up.” 

That’s how you met the Dixon brothers. They had move to town that spring and started working at a garage not far from the diner. It wasn’t long until they made it a regular thing to come by after their shifts, sometimes accompanied by friends, occasionally with some girls. Merle didn’t give up making a pass at you until a few weeks in, somewhat because you showed absolutely no interest, but most importantly, he had pivoted his focus to another girl who worked at the gas station by the highway and it wasn’t long until they started dating, and arguing, a lot of arguing and shouting whenever they came in together. Daryl then started coming to the diner by himself more often, not sure whether it was by choice or he was simply abandoned by his older brother. He was mostly quiet, less so when there were others around, he’d listen in as the other guys talk about sports, made just a little less inappropriate comments while the others defiled anyone and everyone as a method to display their so-called masculinity. Since he often came alone quite late, if not, pass the rush hours, the two of you had plenty of idle times on your hands, spending it lingering your eyes on each other. His orders were always something simple, usually the cheapest on the menu. He’d spent the whole time darting his eyes between the tv mounted above the bar, and you, standing behind the bar, chuckling whilst listening to the other waitress telling you about what had happened at the party she was at last night. In between moments, when your eyes met, he’d look away then roam his eyes around the room nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t just admiring the way you chuckled. You then started giving him extra pie, topping off his glass whenever you can. In return, he became more relaxed around you as the days rolled on, revealing more information about him when you chat in-between ordering, the awkward flirting he attempted on you made you smile during your entire shift. By winter, you had become an item. 

You wipe the dollops of ketchup on the counter after you had just married all the bottles, reminiscing the past as you stare outside at the night sky. The other two waitresses on shift walk arm in arm to the door, a giggle followed after they step outside. One of them ducks back in with a mischievous smile, “Your boy ‘s here.” A slight smile curves on the corner of your mouth, but you rebuke her anyhow. 

“Oh, shut it, see ya’ll tomorrow.” 

Daryl takes a final drag of his cigarette, a semi polite smile for the ladies as he watches them sway away into the dark. He flicks the cigarette butt on the ground and opens the door to let himself in. The empty diner is now dimmed down, borrowing some fluorescent lights from the decorative neon signs on the wall, flickering by the shut of the door. 

“Hey, I’m almost finished.” You give the counter one last wipe before stuffing the rag in the back pocket of your skirt. He nods, placing his bike helmet on the bar counter as he sit himself down on the stool, spinning from left to right like a little kid. 

“Still up for a movie?” As you walk outside the staff room after changing into your own, your eyes automatically wander to the clock on the wall, “it’s quite late.”

“Yah, ain’t that tired anyway.” He spins one more 360 degree before standing up, taking your bag off your hand as you put your cardigan on. He glances at your shirt with a smile, “you’ve got red on yah.” 

You look down, noticing a speck of ketchup on your white shirt, his perfect insertion of the line borrowed from Shaun of The Dead, you two have just watched it a few nights ago makes you smirk. “Smart. Gotta give it to yah.” With your hands busy fumbling the key in your hand, he helps you shut the door and waits in quiet as you inspect it, giving it another careful pull to make sure it’s locked tight.

Daryl hands you the helmet, “Borrowed a bike off the shop.” He gestures at a black coloured motorcycle parked by the entrance, its shiny surface gleams in the dark parking lot. 

“Pete won’t give you any trouble for this?” You trace your fingertips on its fuel tank, the surface is smooth and cold.

“Nah, just finished restoring it today. Told him I’d take it for a few test rides.” He straps on his helmet with his legs on each side of the bike, leaning more of his weigh on the left one and wait for you to straddle on the back. 

You put your helmet on, less clumsily than how you handled it the first time he invited you to go on a ride with him. He never owned his own so it was different ones each time, and he’d tell you that each bike has their own temper, it needs to be cared for and handled differently. Not that it makes any sense to you, because all you have to do is to sit behind him with your arms wrapped tight around his waist and feel the whole world fades out as he speeds up.

The clock struck 12:15 when you two arrive at your humble rental house. Daryl follows you in and places the helmets on the small round table by the entrance in familiarity. 

“Elly’s still in Boston. Won’t be back until the weekend” You flip on the switch of the living room light, the messy living light up in yellow aura. With one leap, you throw yourself at him with a big grin, like a butterfly jumping to its next flower, “Welcome home, baby.” 

He mumbles as his hands catch you by the sides of your waist, taken aback by your enthusiasm, “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Just imagining what it feels like to live with you.” Your arms still dangled around his neck, “you know, welcoming you home every day, waiting for you with cooked dinner or somethin’ like that.”

“There’s dinner waitin’ for me?” He raises an eyebrow, teasing you as a deflect. 

“Well, I’m sorry, darlin’. Not if you become a proper resident of the place.” Just push a bit more, maybe he will give you an affirmative answer this time, you think to yourself but all you feel is the warmth of his hands departing. 

“Hmm, what movie ya wanna watch?” He walks over to the fridge and grabs a can of beer before settling down into the couch, fumbling his hand behind the cushions for the remote. The light of the tv flashes on his face, news, another flash, news again, he frustratedly put it on mute, with a flick of his wrist, he throws the remote to his side. 

An inscrutable sigh slips your mouth unintentionally and you drag your feet to sit down next to him, knowing what comes next won’t lead the night to end in sweet popcorn and comedy. “I don’t know why you keep avoiding this. I know you don’t wanna live with Merle. Is it me then?” This isn’t the first time you let the diffidence you feel about your relationship with Daryl gets to you. After the first kiss, the first time you fucked, the first time he held your hand in front of Merle and his friends, the suspicions came every time you moved one step forward. Was he drunk? Was he fooling around? Was he your boyfriend now? You’d ask yourself and when it became too exhausting to figure out on your own, you’d ask him. 

“Nah, ain’t what I meant.” He lifts his legs up and sets them heavy on the coffee table, the can of beer loose in his hand. His eyes flick to you, then away, just like how he used to steal glances at you when you first met. He’s checking whether he is right about what’s coming next so he could brace himself and piece together the right words inside his brain.  

“Then what did you mean?” You press, even though you know you shouldn’t. 

He exhales, brushing his nose with his hand before finally opening his mouth, “Just… don’t get why you’d wanna tie yourself t’ me.” he bites on the nailbed around his thumb again, “World’s full’a better guys out there. Got more t’ offer than I do.”

His tone is steady, as if he’s rehearsed the lines in his mind countless times and it breaks you in a way that’s almost unspeakable.

“Maybe I don’t want better…” You turn to sit facing him, hoping the sincerity in your eyes could comfort him. “I just want you.” 

He takes his gaze away from the beer and looks right at you, the stubbornness and perseverance in your expression makes him grumble as he drags his free hand through his short hair, messing it up furthermore. “Ain’t good at this stuff, yah know, sayin’ things right. But…I think ‘bout it, bein’ here, with you. Lot more than I say.’’ His pupils shift but they convey an earnest that you fully trust. 

You grin, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand. “That’s all I needed to know.” 

He gorges at your touch, a calmed exhilaration making his throat bobs as the words catch in him. He leans over and sets the beer down with a clink, his hand gently pulling you on top of him, your legs straddle his thighs as you cup his cheeks with a silly grin. In no time, your lips find his, exchanging gentle pecks which then quickly deepen into hungrier kisses, letting the unspoken words slip through the press of his lips into your body. 

“Ya sure ‘bout this?” he mutters against your lips, breath warm. His hands placed between your skin and shirt, gently grazing from the small of your back to the clasp of your bra, fondling, asking for permission almost. 

“I’ve never been more sure, Daryl.” 

That’s all he needs to hear, too. His mouth trails down your neck, with one unwieldy hand fondling the clasp of your bra, freeing your breasts to his rough palms. He lifts your shirt up eagerly as if the sensation of touch isn’t enough, he needs to see everything too, in silence, your moss coloured lace bra slides off your shoulders, uncovering your heaving chest. He stares at them in awe, causing you to giggle. 

“What?” you push his hair back, fingers running through his hair.

“Nothin’, just really want yah now.” his stubble scratches along your collarbone, dragging his hands down to your ass, the couch dips with your weight as you arch with his pull.

“Hmm, I want you too.” 

“I’ll do it…” he pulls away for a second before pressing his lips back onto your chest, the area just above your peak, your body tingles at the thought of what’s coming next. With a tilt of head, you tease. 

“Do what? Me?”

“Yah, that too. But I meant movin’ in.” He lets out a soft chuckle, his lips still nibbling and tracing. You pull back abruptly, amazed with wide eyes, not just at his words but also the double sensation you are feeling as his tongue chases you, with no intention of letting you go. 

“You mean it?” 

“Mean it.”  A decision and a promise made with no hesitation, he anchors you to his body. 

Your heart beams with anticipation and happiness, only possible to convey through a trail of kisses stippling his face. He smiles to himself, clearly enjoying the affection you are presenting him. “Will bring my stuff over, tomorrow.”

As he stripes you bare, you watch him exploring your body the way he did so many times before, only witnessing more this time – a routine and life continuing, but to be accompanied by him. When he fills you up, the ragged sound of his gasps laces together with your whimpering, along with a future waiting to be woven into his. Each roll, each thrust and each grip, illustrating the pattern of what’s in store for the both of you. The light of tv behind you painting shadows and creating a soft aura around your outline. His eyes examine every inch of your softness, melting, like ice cream under a hot summer day, dripping your sweetness all over him. The couch shifts with the warmth of your bodies, parallel with a crackle in the world outside your cocoon, though neither of you could sense it. Images of strange outbreaks, sudden unrest, unexplained violence in distant towns, shuffling on the tv behind you, but ignored, because all you see is the determination in each other’s eyes. He traces a thumb over your lips, slow and aimless, unaware that somewhere beyond, the entire world was already catching on fire. 

The next morning, he kisses you goodbye, saying he’d be back soon - with his belongings and all of his heart. Words tossed lightly into the air, carrying the weight of forever, never meant to hold the sorrow that would follow.