Chapter 229: Dine and Dash
"Also, I guess I'm kind of weird… I'm not like Ian, who has a clear goal in life."
"I don't really know what I want to do. I'm still in high school, and for now, I just go to class, take tests, and go home. But once I graduate… I have no idea what's next."
"Like, what should I be doing today? Tomorrow? Or even for the rest of my life? I've got no plan. And honestly, there's nothing I'm particularly passionate about," Lip continued.
"So basically, you don't know what you want," Frank said plainly.
Ian's goal was crystal clear—he wanted to join the military. He'd been working hard for that one purpose all along.
But Lip was different. He never had a clear goal. Everything he did was aimless—trying one thing here, another thing there. Completely lost, with no dreams or direction.
And that kind of confusion? That's how most young people actually feel. No dreams, no goals, no idea what they're supposed to do—just going with the flow.
Even with kids, when you ask them what they want to be when they grow up, they'll say something like "scientist" or "police officer."
But is that really what they want? Do they even mean it?
Chances are, they're just saying what everyone else says—something that sounds good and safe, that won't get them into trouble. Most kids just keep studying and taking tests, and even when it's time to choose a college major—something that should be really important—they're clueless. They go with whatever their parents or others suggest.
So, for most people like Lip, when you ask them about their dreams or goals, they have to stop and think. It's never an instant answer.
In reality, people like Ian—who pick a clear path and work relentlessly toward it—are the rare ones.
"Sigh, forget it. Let's not talk about this anymore. Let's drink!" Lip said, feeling like he was talking too much. He grabbed his glass and took a big swig.
"By the way, what's going on between you and Mandy from the Milkovich family?" Frank asked, smoothly changing the subject.
Taking advantage of Lip being a little tipsy, Frank decided to ask some more personal questions.
"Nothing's going on. We're just friends," Lip blinked in surprise.
"You're not actually planning to get together with her?" Frank asked.
"Be together? Like boyfriend and girlfriend? No way," Lip instinctively denied.
"So… you're still thinking about Karen?" Frank pressed.
"Eh…" Lip muttered vaguely. He didn't admit it, but he didn't deny it either—and that said everything.
No matter if it's a guy or a girl, you never really forget the one who took your first time.
"Enough talk. This place is boring," Lip tugged at his collar.
"Let's head out, go somewhere else," Frank said, pulling out his wallet.
"Wait," Lip stopped him. "Do you really think this place is worth your money?"
"You're thinking of skipping out on the bill?" Frank raised an eyebrow.
"Dine and dash. I'll take the front door," Lip grinned.
Seeing Lip so fired up, Frank couldn't help but get into the mood.
With perfect coordination, they glanced around—no servers nearby. Then they both stood up and casually split up.
"Excuse me, buddy. Where's the restroom?" Frank stopped a waiter and followed the direction to the back exit.
"Sorry, I need to take a call. Can you help us check the dessert menu?" Lip said hurriedly, phone in hand, pretending to be busy.
"Sure thing," the server nodded, completely unsuspecting.
Frank slipped out the back. Lip strolled out the front.
"HAHAHAHA!" They met up outside and burst into laughter.
The distance between them was shrinking. A real father-son bond was starting to form.
Other fathers and sons might play catch together. In the Gallagher family, they bonded by running out on restaurant tabs. That was their unique tradition.
Of course, Frank had actually left money hidden under the plate. He wasn't truly skipping the bill—he wasn't that Frank.
Later, Frank and Lip picked up some booze at the supermarket and headed to a park bench, hiding in the shade, enjoying the breeze and continuing their chat over drinks.
"I remember I used to take you to the park and the zoo a lot," Frank reminisced.
"Yeah, right. You just wanted to steal a turtle to sell for cash," Lip shot back, brutally honest.
"I—I need to use the bathroom…" Frank said, standing up.
But as he got up, he wobbled. He quickly grabbed the railing for support and shook his head to clear it.
Then, after just a couple of steps—Frank collapsed face-first onto the ground.
"That's all it took? He's already drunk?" Lip laughed, thinking Frank had simply lost his balance.
"…?" But Frank didn't respond at all.
"Hey?" Lip realized something was wrong and rushed over.
He turned Frank over so he was lying on his back—his face was pale, completely bloodless, and his eyes were shut tight.
Lip leaned in to check for breath. Frank was still breathing, so it wasn't life-threatening. He wasn't sure if Frank had passed out or just fallen asleep.
"Hey, wake up," Lip gently slapped his face. No response.
Looking around, Lip looped Frank's arm over his shoulder and dragged him onto the bench.
"Doesn't look like regular drunkenness," Lip frowned at Frank's complexion.
Frank had passed out drunk countless times before—he used to practically live in a state of alcohol poisoning. He could fall asleep anywhere: sidewalk, garbage bin, under a table, you name it.
That's actually how Officer Tony met Fiona—on his first patrol shift, he found Frank passed out cold in the street. He thought Frank was dead and freaked out. When he brought him home, he met Fiona.
But this time, something felt off. Frank didn't look drunk—he looked sick.
Normally, drunk people have flushed, red faces. But Frank's face was ghostly pale—scary pale.
"Could it be cancer?" Lip wondered, his brow furrowing.
But then he remembered—Frank had said that whole "cancer" thing was a lie, a scam to fool Sheila.
Uncertain, Lip pulled out his phone to call an ambulance.
Just then—
"Ugh… what happened?" Frank groaned, finally waking up, looking dazed.
"You okay? Are you feeling sick anywhere?" Lip asked quickly.
"I—bleugh!" Frank suddenly turned and vomited a mess of half-digested lobster all over the ground.
Seeing that, Lip assumed it was just alcohol after all. He didn't overthink it, just patted Frank's back and helped him up, slowly guiding him home.