Chapter 223 – Grandma
'Frank's' fear of his own mother ran deep—down to the bone.
Even now, just thinking about visiting his mom made Frank's entire body uncomfortable, like his very flesh was rejecting the idea.
But precisely because of this visceral resistance, Frank knew he had to go see her—the woman who gave birth to this body.
"Debbie and Carl are old enough now. They should meet their grandmother. And she hasn't seen her grandkids in a long time,"
"Actually, scratch that—she's been locked up for over a decade. She's never met them. She probably wouldn't even recognize you. Do you guys want to come along?" Frank asked.
"I can't," Fiona replied. "I have to keep an eye on the renovations."
"I need to fix the ice cream truck. Kevin and I are heading to the park to sell popsicles in a couple days," Lip added.
"What about Ian?" Frank asked.
"He left early for training," Lip said.
"Guess it's just me, Debbie, and Carl going to visit Grandma, then. I'll bring the rest of you next time, let her meet everyone," Frank said.
"Lip, have you packed everything?" Fiona asked, watching him head for the door.
"I'll do it tonight," Lip replied.
"How many times do I have to tell you? Pack your stuff already—we're moving in a few days!" Fiona shouted after him.
"Got it~" Lip's voice trailed off as he left.
"You're not busy. Want to come with us?" Frank turned to Pinkman.
Pinkman hadn't returned to the hotel last night and ended up crashing on Frank's busted couch. Since he had nothing better to do, he tagged along.
On the way there, Debbie and Carl were full of excitement—especially Debbie, who bombarded Frank with questions about their grandma. But once they arrived at the prison, both kids turned quiet and tense.
They waited a long while before a prison guard finally brought out an elderly, white-haired, overweight woman and sat her down at one of the visitation windows.
That woman was Frank's biological mother—Debbie and Carl's grandma.
"Frank? You actually came to see me? Don't tell me your loan shark's waiting outside," she said, raising an eyebrow.
She knew exactly what kind of scumbag 'Frank' was—she had raised him herself.
Frank didn't reply for several moments.
"Dad?" Debbie looked up at him, puzzled. She could feel him trembling.
"Ah—oh, I'm fine. H-hey, Mom. Long time no see." Frank looked through the glass at the old woman—her face unfamiliar, yet vaguely recognizable—and spoke awkwardly.
To Frank, she just looked like a mean old lady. Nothing particularly scary. But his body was shaking, as if terrified. He even had the sudden urge to pee and dash to the restroom.
But the stronger the reaction, the more it confirmed he was doing the right thing.
Still, calling a stranger "Mom" felt deeply unnatural—even if she technically was his mother.
"Who are they?" Grandma asked, frowning at the two kids beside him.
"Mom, they're your grandkids—my daughter and son. This is Debbie, and this is Carl," Frank quickly introduced.
"My grandkids?" she repeated, surprised.
"Go on, say hi to Grandma," Frank urged.
"Hi, Grandma," Debbie and Carl greeted sweetly.
"Oh my God, look at you two little cuties! Grandma wishes she could give you a big hug." Her stern expression melted into a delighted smile. Seeing her grandkids clearly made her genuinely happy.
"And who's this handsome young man? Is that Lip? Or Ian? Judging by his age, I'd guess Lip," she asked, looking at Pinkman.
She had been in prison for many years. Before her arrest, she had met Lip and Ian, so she still remembered them. But Debbie and Carl were born after she was incarcerated—she'd only ever heard their names.
"That's not Lip. Fiona, Lip, and Ian were busy today, but I'll bring them to visit you soon," Frank replied.
"Then who's he? Another one of your kids? Or did that whore Monica give birth again?" she asked bluntly.
"No, no—this is Pinkman. He's... more like my godson," Frank said, glancing over at Pinkman.
"G-Grandma," Pinkman said hesitantly, scratching his head.
"So... how've things been in here?" Frank asked.
"The food sucks, but the women are fun. Not the worst place to be, really," Grandma said casually.
"The only annoying part is they keep making me clean toilets. I wanted kitchen duty, but they won't let me anywhere near it. Damn it, just because of one little meth lab explosion, and now I'm stuck here," she complained.
"It wasn't just the explosion—the problem was you burned two chemistry majors to death," Frank reminded her.
Walter (Heisenberg) had mentioned it once during a production conversation. Turns out, Frank came from a "family business" background—his mother was into the same line of work.
Of course, she wasn't on the same level as Walter. Grandma was just a small-time player.
Her setup was incredibly basic—some flasks, a few tubes. Nothing like Walter's top-tier lab with properly labeled beakers and sterile conditions.
In truth, most meth setups were crude and dangerous. Only Walter treated it like a scientific pursuit. That's why his product stood out—because most others cut corners and didn't care about purity or quality.
Grandma used to earn money making the stuff, but since her own yield was low, she paid top chemistry students from the local university to help.
But meth-making is essentially a chemistry experiment—and like all experiments, it carries risks. That's why real labs are built with safety in mind.
One day, there was an accident. An explosion. A fire. Grandma got caught.
If it had only been the explosion, she might have gotten a light sentence. But two of the students she hired didn't make it out. They burned alive.
Now it was a case involving fatalities. Things escalated. In the blink of an eye, she had been locked up for over a decade.
"So tell me, Frank—what do you really want? You didn't come all this way just to say hi," Grandma said, the joy of meeting her grandkids fading as her tone turned serious.