Chapter 35: A Long Road Ahead
"I asked him. He said he didn't make any bets with anyone—maybe he's just lost his memory," Fiona said.
"You believe him?" Lip said with a hint of sarcasm. "All our tricks—lying, cheating, scamming—we learned them from him."
"This time might be different," Fiona replied.
"There's no 'different.' Who knows how long the bet is for this time, but it's already been nearly a month. I bet it's almost up. Until he gets his money, he'll keep playing the part."
"But once he gets the money, he'll go back to drinking, back to who he used to be," Lip said, his voice full of anger.
"Why are you so mad at Dad?" Fiona asked.
"Fiona, don't you remember the last time this happened? When Frank sobered up?" Lip asked.
"I remember," Fiona nodded.
"He made a bet at a bar to quit drinking, started acting like a model father. It was the first time he came to one of my baseball games. I hit a double that day. I've never seen him so proud. But…" Lip paused.
"But after the bet ended, he went right back to being a mess," Fiona finished for him.
"The problem is, back then—I didn't know it was all fake," Lip said quietly.
"I don't want to go through that again. Have you seen how he's been with Debbie and Carl lately? I don't want them to go through what I did. I don't want them to feel what I felt." After a moment's silence, he continued.
"..." Fiona opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say.
Of course she'd had the same doubts. Fiona had been watching Frank closely too, wary of the day he might go back to being the worthless "Frank" they all knew too well.
She could talk to Frank about emotional issues—but never about money. That alone said enough about her distrust.
---
After dinner, Debbie sighed. "The spaghetti was so good tonight. Too bad Dad wasn't here."
"You shouldn't get too used to birthdays like this. Especially not with Frank," Lip said as he found Debbie and Carl.
"Huh?" Debbie blinked.
"Frank's not going to stay this good forever," Lip told them.
"No, he will," Carl said.
"He won't once he starts drinking again. You need to understand—he'll go right back to who he used to be. I just don't want you two to get hurt," Lip said.
"But he still drinks now," Debbie said.
"That's different. He hasn't had more than two drinks at a time. Drinking and being a drunk are not the same," Lip explained patiently.
"So what? What's the big deal?" Debbie asked.
"Do you remember last summer? That little turtle you two had?" Lip asked, trying to give them an example.
"Walter?" Carl said. That was the turtle's name.
"Yeah, Walter. For the first two weeks, you loved that turtle. You talked to him, fed him, carried him around wherever you went. Remember that?"
Debbie and Carl both nodded.
"But after a while, you both got busy with other things. No one changed his water, no one fed him. Two months later, Debbie, you wanted to take Walter to show your friend."
"But you couldn't find him. When you finally did, he had dried up and died."
"So do you get it now? Right now, you two are Walter. And Dad is… you. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Lip asked.
He was trying to use real-life experiences to help them understand the relationship between Frank and them.
"So… does that mean Dad's going to buy us a new turtle?" Carl said excitedly.
"Uh… no. Never mind. Forget I said anything." Lip realized he had overestimated their ability to grasp the metaphor. "Go play."
"It's okay, Lip. I get what you mean," Debbie said as Carl ran off. "Once Dad starts drinking again, he'll forget about us. He only thinks of us when he's broke."
"But I don't really mind. I just want to enjoy the time we have now, while it lasts. And honestly… I feel like Dad's really changed this time. Maybe he won't go back to drinking."
Debbie was only two years older than Carl, but girls always seemed to mature faster than boys.
Carl hadn't understood a word Lip said—but Debbie had. She knew Lip was just trying to prepare them for the worst.
Frank had made a lot of changes recently, and he'd done a lot for them. But the pain and damage the old Frank had left behind couldn't be erased in a single month. If he really wanted to earn his children's trust again, it would be a long, uphill battle.
---
Frank, meanwhile, was completely unaware of the kids' conversation. He was at Sheila's place, playing the piano.
"That was so beautiful," Sheila said, hands clasped over her chest like an adoring fan.
Officer Eddie was also surprised—he never knew Frank had such talent.
"Hey, Karen—" Eddie tried to say something to her.
"I'm going to bed," Karen cut him off, ignoring him as she went upstairs to her room.
Eddie stared at her retreating back, sighed, and headed back to his basement.
"Frank, I made mini cupcakes with sweet pancake batter so I didn't have to use eggs. I think they taste even better! Try them!" Sheila brought out a plate of intricately decorated cupcakes, her eyes full of anticipation.
"Mmm, these are amazing. Better than anything from a bakery. If you opened a cupcake shop, you'd run every other one on the block out of business," Frank said, taking a bite and genuinely impressed.
"Ohh, Frank~" Sheila beamed with delight.
"Ah! Look at the time—the show's about to start!" Sheila grabbed the remote and quickly switched to the cooking channel.
Unlike dramas or variety shows, Sheila preferred watching cooking shows.
Maybe it was her fear of unfamiliar environments—being stuck indoors all the time—so cooking had become her way of passing the time. She poured herself into culinary arts and loved learning new recipes.
"Sheila, your cooking's already so good. You can make everything they show on these programs—and better! You don't even need to watch them anymore," Frank said.
Over the years, Sheila had watched countless cooking shows, taken detailed notes, and learned recipes from all over the world—her notebooks were as thick as dictionaries.