The Girl He Forgot (Book 2)

Chapter 4 - I Hope You're Right

The sound of car doors banging and slamming interrupted my slumber. I squinted; my eyes were stiff with sleep and the sunlight seemed to burn them. I slowly became aware that the world beyond my bedroom sounded much more lively than usual... 

Something was going on. 

I flopped out of bed and stumbled to the window, peering sleepily down onto the street below.

A few yards up, there was an RV parked outside the house with the yellow door. Daryl was under its bonnet talking to Denise, a pink oil smudged cloth in his hand. He wore his denim and leather jacket with angel wings stitched onto the back in white cotton. Rick was coming down the steps of his house holding Judith. Maggie was in front hurrying towards the RV with something in her hands.

I watched as Rick approached a boy kneeling on the ground with two large red tanks of petrol beside the motorhome. Carl stood up to talk to his dad, their faces appeared serious the tone of conversation clearly not light. Glenn and the man with brilliant ginger hair and mutton chops whom I'd come to learn was called Abraham were loading up the Caravan with supplies enough for a few days. And then Michonne descended the steps with someone I'd never seen around here before - a young man with long brown hair and a beard to match. He wore a black beanie and leather coat. 

Who was he? And why was he here? Where was Carl and everyone going?

My curiosity peaked. 

I hurried to my closet and grabbed some clothes. I quickly stepped into them, ran a brush through my hair and dashed downstairs. I was just about to push my garden gate aside and step out onto the pavement when the revving of an engine sounded. I glanced down the street just in time to see the rear of the RV disappearing around the corner.

"Fuck" I cursed to the now empty road.

Wherever they'd gone, Carl had decided not to tell me goodbye... and why would he? Everyone he cared about the most was right there in that RV with him...

I suppose this is what you get when you admit to yourself that you care about someone who doesn't care about you... a very hollow and empty pit inside your stomach. Like a black hole threatening to consume you. I couldn't take it back now either – last night, I'd given in the fact that I was never going to give up on the boy in the sheriff hat. No matter how much it hurt, it was a torture I was going to learn to live with for however long it took. And so, I swallowed the fresh pain of this morning, like a ball of sandpaper and pins.

I sighed and retired to my studio without breakfast. Drawing didn't fill that emptiness inside me, but it was all I could think to do still. Perhaps I would check on the gardens later, see if any new weeds had sprouted, but with Maggie gone for however long I guessed there would be no new projects going ahead without her say so... and though the plants may need watering, the smell of rain was in the air. It was sunny now, but I got the feeling that by tonight, the skies would do that job for us.

I suppose I'd just wait for Carl to get back... I had done for nearly two months so what was another day or two more? When he returned, maybe we could talk more... that is, if he returned... there was always that risk these days that when a person left the safety of the walls you savoured the sight of them because it may well be the last time you saw them.

Come late afternoon, I decided to enjoy the rest of the sun before the heavens opened up. I grabbed a sketch pad and pencil and made my way to the pond. I slumped down onto the dry, straw-like grass at the roots of my preferred tree and began to move the led across the page. I wasn't sure what had made me start coming outside to draw... it wasn't as if I ever painted landscapes or actually used the scenery in front of me as a reference. I suppose it was just to get some fresh air...