Junebug • TWD

35. What Else Is New?

I'm not allowed to go into Hershel's cell to visit him. He hasn't woken up yet. Rick had him cuffed to the bed so that, if he does pass, he won't wake up as a walker and hurt anyone. I hope he does wake up. I'd hate for him to pass without me being allowed to say goodbye first. But Maggie insists that I shouldn't. 

Maggie's losing hope, though. She thinks he's gonna die. Beth doesn't. Beth has got hope. 

Rick and T-Dog brought in a whole bunch of food that the prisoners had stashed in the kitchen with them. Carl is sorting through it right now. He thinks I should have some, but I ain't eating any until either Dad or Hershel says I should. And neither Hershel nor Dad are here to tell me anything, so I'm staying put. 

Right here in my cell, I'm staying put. All I'm doing is listening. Listening and thinking. I'm listening to hear if Hershel wakes up, either as himself or as a walker, and I'm listening to hear for my dad to come back. Not only because I want him to tell me which foods I should eat without making myself sick, but also because of what I've been thinking about.

I feel sick.

That's what I told him as he was waiting on those prisoners to come into our cell block, and I was tucked away behind the gate with my arms wrapped around my stomach, trying not to think about the way I saw Hershel's muscles and bones beneath his skin. 

And what did Dad say?

What else is new?

That's what he said. Like in a scoffing, muttering sort of way that made my chest hurt. Because he doesn't even understand. What else is new? like it's something he is tired of and he doesn't want to deal with it. What else is new? like I'm something he is tired of and he doesn't want to deal with me. What else is new? like I'm the burden. 

I know I'm not. I feel like I am sometimes, but I know I'm not because I know I shouldn't be. The burden is only mine. The burden is the problem itself; it isn't me. And it isn't his burden; it's mine. I'm the one who has to feel it and I'm the one who has to hurt because of it. And, sure, he helps me when I hurt because of it, but he can walk away and do something else and be fine. But I can't. It's with me, no matter where I go or what I do. It's with me. 

So, maybe I am just sensitive, but I don't want to hear him say something like that about me or my hurt ever, ever again. And I think, if I can in the moment I want to, I'm gonna tell him that. 

He doesn't have the right to talk about me like that. And he's hurt me more than most dads should or have, and I've done a mighty fine job of accepting that and forgiving him because I understand why he did that. But he knows better now and I can't keep forgiving him for messing up. 

It's supposed to be the other way around. I'm supposed to be the one messing up. I'm supposed to lie, and sneak out, and skip class, and steal his money, and go to parties without asking, and he's supposed to teach me that that's wrong, and then forgive me for it. But instead, he's the one making the mistakes, and I'm the one teaching him that that's wrong and then forgiving him for it. It ain't fair. 

And I'm gonna tell him that. Or, at least, I'm gonna try.

Sometimes I think I'm gonna tell him things, but I just can't muster up the courage to say it in the moment. Parts of me are still afraid, even if I know they shouldn't be. 

I love my dad. I love him more than anyone in the world right about now- unless my momma's still alive because, if she is, then I love her just as much. But she ain't here for me to talk to. Dad is, and I think he ought to listen. 

So I sit and I listen for him to come back, so I can talk to him about it. 

Before I hear Dad, though, I hear someone else. Carl.