Chapter 98: Back to the Old Ways
After discovering Ian was gay, Frank had been wanting to talk to him, to let him know he didn't discriminate and that Ian would always be his son, no matter what.
However, when Fiona found out about Ian, she didn't have the same instinct to intervene or have a heart-to-heart conversation.
For Fiona, it was simple: when Ian was ready to talk, he would come to her, just like he was doing now.
"I should've told you a long time ago, but I don't know why I didn't," Ian confessed.
"Alright, just make sure to keep your wound dry for the next few days. Use a damp cloth to clean your hands," Fiona replied calmly, showing her usual concern without any dramatic reaction or emotional display.
Fiona's laid-back attitude brought a small smile to Ian's face. No amount of supposedly empathetic reassurances could beat this simple, everyday approach.
Ian felt a weight lift off his shoulders; he no longer needed to hide.
Meanwhile, Frank, who had been kicked out of the house, was unaware of what was happening.
He wandered alone through the dark night, frustration boiling over.
"Damn it!" Frank shouted, kicking a trash can in anger.
He felt increasingly frustrated, unsure of what he'd done wrong to end up in this situation.
His relationships with the kids had been improving, but suddenly everything seemed to fall apart, leaving him feeling isolated and misunderstood.
All he'd done was beat up that perverted husband for the kids' sake. How did things turn out this way?
If it were the old "Frank," being kicked out wouldn't have mattered—he was used to it.
But Frank wasn't the old "Frank," and now he was both angry and dejected.
Instead of going to Sheila's, Frank bought a lot of alcohol and rented a room at a motel, needing to drown his sorrows.
Previously cautious about drinking due to the old "Frank's" influence, Frank now let himself go, drinking excessively until dawn.
"Hey, Frank, you're back to your old self. This time you held out pretty long," Kevin said as he opened Alibi Bar, watching Frank stumble in.
Frank reeked of alcohol, the spitting image of the old Frank Kevin remembered.
"I heard Ian punched you yesterday," Kevin commented, noting the swelling on Frank's face.
"Shut up and get me a beer," Frank grumbled, taking a seat.
"See, I told you, Frank's still Frank. You lost this bet," chubby Tommy laughed, turning to Mikey.
"Sigh," Mikey said, handing fifty bucks to Tommy.
Everyone had noticed Frank's recent changes, and Tommy had bet Mikey on how long Frank would last. Clearly, Tommy had won.
"Get Frank a drink. It's on me today," Tommy said, pleased with himself.
"What happened to your face?" Mikey asked, noticing the bruises.
"Nothing, just fell down the stairs," Frank lied.
"I gave everything for my kids, and they don't even realize what I've done for them."
"We all know life's tough, and making money is even harder. I tried to keep the house together, and those ungrateful brats kicked me out. Without me, they'd be on the streets."
"I didn't abandon them like their mother did. I could've left, let the government deal with them."
"I had no experience, taking care of six kids who depended on me, as if I made a mess of their lives."
Frank's anger hadn't subsided from the night before. He felt he'd done nothing wrong, given so much for the kids, only to be thrown out.
No longer holding back, Frank drank heavily, venting about his life.
His complaints blurred between his perspective and the old "Frank's," becoming indistinguishable.
To everyone else, Frank's behavior was nothing new. This was the Frank they knew, and his recent demeanor was the anomaly. Thankfully, he was back to his old self.
For days, Frank stayed at the bar, drinking and complaining, forgetting his troubles, or choosing not to think about them.
Frank had never enjoyed alcohol as much as in these past few days, feeling free without the burden of his children's issues or future worries.
"What is this?" Frank muttered, waking up to find a voluptuous woman sprawled across his legs.
He looked down at his body, covered in random drawings, dressed in a Hawaiian grass skirt, his pants around his knees.
Vaguely recalling attending a wild party and blacking out, Frank realized he'd been drinking to excess daily.
"Ugh," Frank grunted, pushing the woman off his leg, pulling up his pants, smelling the mix of vomit and alcohol on him.
The room was littered with people who'd partied too hard the night before.
Frank tiptoed over the bodies, pausing to rummage through pockets, taking any loose change, wallets, or pills.
Before anyone noticed, Frank slipped out of the foul-smelling room.
"Phew!" Frank exhaled, rubbing his arms against the chill.
Though spring was warming up, it was still cold.
Planning to shower and wash off the stench, Frank found himself at Sheila's door, stepping onto the porch.
(Note: This has happened to me once; I didn't consider the other person's perspective and ended up blaming them. Now, I am left only with regret. You should always remain calm in such situations.)