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“Some people are meant to fall in love with each other, but not meant to be together.”
― Scott Neustadter, (500) Days of Summer: The Shooting Script
The kitchen light illuminates the dark apartment in a soft yellow. She can see the dust fibers dancing around in the air underneath the lamp, so much alike to the questions and doubts jittering in her brain.
She raps her knuckles against the old hardwood table, watching as the hand of the clock makes its round. The cold of the winter outside creeps into her bones, and Beth shivers as she pulls her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.
The table used to be her parents', before--Beth squeezes her eyes shut, forcing the memories out and pushing them as far away as possible. Not now, Greene.
The taste of disappointment lays bitter on her tongue. The white plastic of her pill bottles standing on the top shelf reflecting in the moonlight catches her eye, a cruel reminder of her current state of mind. Should she really be surprised?
Exasperated, she checks her phone for the twentieth time in the past half an hour. No new messages. Rubbing a hand over her eyes, Beth sighs. Should she call Rick? Surely, he’d know how to track him down at this hour, but she doesn't feel comfortable asking his help again.
Her front door slams open with a harsh bang, and Beth jumps up from her chair, startled by the sudden intrusion of her silence. A frown pulls on her face at the dragging, unsteady footsteps that follow, accompanied by a rumble of laughter that she could only recognize as Merle Dixon.
“God damn, little brother, got a nice place here. Ain’t the missus asleep?”
“She ain’t.” Beth responds with a clipped voice, clearly surprising the brothers as they stumble in from the hallway. The smell of sweat, cigarettes and stale beer fills her nostrils, she wrinkles her nose in disgust. Even if she hadn't picked up the stagger in his posture and the drowsy look in his eyes, the scent would've told her enough.
“Jesus.”, Merle huffs, dramatically clapping his hand on his chest as he breathes out. “Ya scared me there, Blondie.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Daryl won’t even look at her when she addresses him. She turns towards him and quirks her eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest. “You didn’t bother to tell me your brother would be stayin’ here?”
“Thought you was asleep, didn’t wanna wake you.” He peers up at her from underneath his bangs, swiftly glancing away again at the anger blazing in her eyes.
“Just like you didn’t bother to respond to my calls? You drown your phone in a beer or somethin'?” Beth replies thinly, now standing in front of them.
Merle hoots, hitting his brother - who’s still avoiding looking at her - on his shoulder. “She got you on a leash too, huh?” He shakes his head. “Damn, ‘s good I got out when I did. Y'gotta show your woman how to let go a lil'.”
Beth darts her head in his direction, her eyebrows raised. “Excuse me? You do realize you’re standing in my house right now?”
Merle lets out a belch, grinning at her. “Last time I checked this ‘s my brother’s apartment, honey. Y’all live here together, but he makes the decisions, don’t he?”
“Daryl?” Beth responds, her tone harsh. “Have somethin' to add here?”
He looks up at her, meeting her gaze almost warily, scared of what might come. If she wasn't in the same situation for the thousandth time, she'd soften her expression just to soothe some of that fear. “Merle, shut the fuck up.”, Daryl mutters gruffly.
“Damn, boy.” Merle exclaims, “She must be damn good in them sheets if y’ listen t’ her like this.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, his eyes trailing over her. “Well, she's a pretty thing, I’ll give ya that. Shame her tits are that small, though.”
Beth closes her eyes, willing herself to remain calm as she breathes deeply.
Opening them, her expression is stone cold as she points towards her front door, back to where he came from. “Get the hell out of my house.”
“Well, mind your language girl, it ain’t gotta be like—”
“Get. Out.”
“Get y’r woman under control, boy, I swear to fuckin’—”
“Get out!” Beth yells, stepping towards him as she gestures her arms wildly. “Get the fuck out!”
Merle begins to walk backwards, pushed back by her suddenly ferocious reaction. Her voice lowers dangerously, she turns her head sideways, her eyes narrowing as she stares him down.
“Or I can call the sheriff, don’t think they’d mind throwin’ your worthless ass back in the fuckhole of a prison ya came from. Get out!”
“Get your goddamn girlfriend under control, y’ whiny asshole!” Merle shouts as she shoves him out of the door, slamming it in his face.
Breathing deeply, Beth locks the door before turning around and stalking back through the hallway into the room, where Daryl is standing with his eyes trained on the floor and his hands stuffed in his pockets.
With a huff, Beth sits back down on her previous place at the dining table, shifting her eyes to observe him. Unsure, he meets her gaze, his shoulders tensed up.
“Beth, I—”
His voice cuts off as Beth holds up her hand.
“No.” She sighs, her mind heavy with exhaustion that goes deeper than the sleep deprivation tugging at her limbs. “It’s 3am on a Tuesday night, Daryl, and you come home smelling like a bar threw up on you. I can’t— I can’t deal with this.”
“’M sorry, Beth. Y’know I’m sorry.”
“This is the third time in two weeks, Daryl." Her eyes suddenly glistening with tears, she sniffles, rubbing a hand over her face. "Fifth this month, twelfth time in the past two months, y’ want me to keep counting?”
He shakes his head, scuffing his feet against the carpet. "Nah."
Her head feeling so stuffed it gives her a headache, the words spill out of her, “Me havin' t' call Rick ‘cause it’s the middle of the night and you won’t respond, and I have no idea where you are. You just disappear, comin’ back the next morning hungover and bruised, without explanation. And him coming around like this. He ain't good for you. I don't know what y'all are up to 'cause you won't tell me, but I know it ain't legal when it happens like this."
“I didn’t mean to hurt ya, Beth.” His mouth twists, he avoids her gaze. “Didn’t mean t’ worry ya. Merle was just-- We was just messing around and forgot the time.”
Her throat becomes tight, she swallows. “I know. But I can’t— Do this.” Her voice breaks, tears drip from her eyelashes. “Anymore.”
Shocked, his head darts in her direction, his eyes meeting hers. “What do ya mean?”, Daryl says roughly, a tremor of fear hiding underneath, “Y’know ‘m sorry Beth, y’ gotta know I’m sorry, I can’t—”
Wrapping her arms around herself, she attempts to soothe her raising panic. “Sorry ain't enough." She blinks, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as her nails cut into her palm, the sharp pain grounding her. I love you so much that it hurts, so much it's killing me - but what if that's the only thing left between us?
Beth opens her eyes, and blinks, staring distantly at the wall. Her Daddy had always told her, We cannot know God's plan, Bethie, and then he had grabbed her hand and held it so tightly, so reassuring. So safe.
The last time she'd gone to church was his funeral, and sometimes she wonders if her lost faith is the reason her sadness hasn't let up. If she'd pray - would that change anything? Maybe that would grant them another chance at going back to what once was - before her life tripped over the edge of the earth and she watched it crash and burn.
Or maybe fate is just simply cruel without explanation.
She sniffles, wiping the back of her hand under her nose. "I’m so tired, Daryl. I love you. Y’know I love you, but I can’t stay up another night worryin’ sick about you, worryin’ about the drinking, worryin’ you're gonna get yourself hurt or worse in a barfight with Merle. I love you,” Her lip trembling as the pent up pain overflows her, Beth draws in a deep breath. “But this ain't right anymore.”
Daryl slumps into the wall he’d been leaning against, his voice trembling, shaking his head. “No, no, Beth, please.”
“You promised this would change.”
“I love ya, Beth, give me a chance. I can—”, he stutters, anxiety visibly racing through him, “I can be better. I ain’t—I ain’t him.”
Sniffling, she dries her eyes with her sleeve, before looking directly at him to make sure her words reach him. “You’re never going to be your Daddy, Daryl. You ain’t ever going to be him, or Merle. You're a good man.” Daryl shakily meets her gaze, his icy blue eyes glistening, as she continues, “But we're living past one another, too scared to speak up because what if our words do something we can't undo - and that's no way to live. I need to figure things out and for that I need to be with myself and we both need space. We can't be there for each other if we can't even hold onto ourselves."
A silence settles between them, stretching out over a couple minutes until Daryl breaks it.
"I never meant for you to get hurt, Beth. 'M sorry." He mutters. Beth shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips that's more a grimace.
"It's not all you. I'm just-- messed up. From a lot a' things."
Daryl copies her reaction, he shakes his head. "Girl, if anyone's messed up here it's me."
Beth snorts, the sound somehow too loud in the empty room. She runs her hand through her hair, her fingers snagging on the tangles. "Then we're both messed up."
"I do love you, Beth. Even if it ain't gonna fix us, I want you to know."
"I never doubted that."
Gathering her strength, she lifts herself up, grabbing the edge of the table for support on her wobbling legs.
“’M gonna call Maggie and sleep at her place. I’ll come by in the morning to pick up my things.”
Daryl nods, his body still trembling, and her heart aches at seeing him so distraught. Beth steps towards where he’s leaning against the wall. She reaches to lay her hand on his shoulder to console him, but he dodges her unexpected move like a cornered animal.
Crouching down in front of him, she makes eye-contact, and slowly places her hand on his knee, allowing him to move away if need be.
“I love you too, and I ain’t gonna stop loving you.” Patting his knee, she stands up. He glances up at her, his sorrowful eyes mirroring hers. “I just gotta love myself first.”