# Ending 1.5 Chapter 11

After the last couple of weeks of working at this place, I’ve settled into a bit of a routine. Break time comes around, and I find a nice secluded corner to sit down, eat, and enjoy the time I have away from the cash registers. Today is much of the same, just with a bit more on my mind from last night’s events.
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Like wondering how the fuck we’re going to feed a kid. Or how the fuck we’re going to raise a kid. Or how the fuck to even raise a kid in the first place, how much stress it’s going to put on Fang and I over the next seven or eight months, how the fuck we’re going to unfuck this clusterfuck before it gets even more clusterfucky…
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The rest of my thoughts devolve into a panicked jumble of anxiety and swearing, devoid of any real meaning or purpose. I’m currently a horrible mixture of sleep-deprived and wide awake, and would have loved nothing more than to stay home, but I can’t afford to start missing work now. At some point, it occurs to me that I’m probably mumbling up a storm, but I can’t give that possibility anything more than a mental shrug.
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“You alright, son?”
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Just need to make it through today, go home, get some sleep- wait, I heard words, and it sounds directed towards me. Someone is… asking me how I am?
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“Yeah, I’m alright. Just tired,” I mutter, not bothering to look at him. Hopefully that’s enough to signal I’m not looking for a chat.
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“I’ve told myself that plenty of times, too,” he replies. It takes all my strength to not groan in frustration. Can’t piss off customers while I’m still in uniform, but fuck’s sake, I don’t need this right now.
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“I’m on break. If you have an issue, take it upfront,” I say, trying to make the point - as kindly as I can muster - that I want him gone.
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“Don’t worry, I’ve already eaten.” Good, then screw off. “You, on the other hand…” I glance at the food in front of me for the first time since I’ve sat down. I want to eat about as badly as I want to talk to this guy. Need to think of some way to shake him before-
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He takes a seat on the opposite side of the table. Why the fuck is he sitting down? He leans in, lowering his voice. “I mean, something must have happened, right? You looked fine the other day.”
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A spike of adrenaline shifts my body into full alert mode, scanning the threat in front of me. A tall, bulky carnivore with uniformly gray scales, somewhat faded with age. I don’t recognize this one in particular, although I hardly document every single person that comes through the door.
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I trip over my words attempting to demand an elaboration. “Have you been watching me?” I manage after a few attempts. He raises an incredulous eyebrow.
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“Well… no. I come here pretty often and happened to notice the new face sitting in this corner every day.” Damn my routine. Still, why is he so goddamn interested? “But, judging by that reaction, it must be pretty bad. No offense.” Fuck’s sake, I really, really don’t need this right now.
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“Look, I’m just going through some… personal issues.” Certainly, that should be enough to get him-
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“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” I instinctively bury my face in my palms.
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“What do you want?” I groan without thinking. I can tell I’m going to regret asking before he starts talking.
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“Well, I’ve always known when to talk and when to walk. Had to learn it the hard way a few too many times to not pass the lesson on where I can. I see a young guy, fretting like he’s staring down Death for minimum wage. I was there once too - military. Now I pay it forward to keep it from hitting others. The gift that keeps on giving, without the lecture about STDs or the awkward doctor’s appointment.”
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Oh my God, what the fuck is this lunatic even saying? Something about the military and STDs… I’ve already forgotten half of it. Fuck it, this clearly isn’t getting me the peace and quiet and I need. Hopefully, he can’t bother me when I’m working.
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“Yeah, uh… thanks. ‘Scuse me, just noticed I need to get back to work.” He leans back, clearly not buying it, but doesn’t push any further. I get up and make my way to the ‘employees only’ door, not bothering to take any of the food with me. I should just do my best to autopilot the next few hours away, then get the hell out of here.
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I push myself through the front door, the mental and physical fatigue that had accumulated throughout the day manifesting as a titanic sigh of exhaustion and relief. I barely make it two steps inside before Fang wraps her arms around and kisses me.
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“I see you’re up and about,” I say with as much energy as I can find.
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“Yeah. Just trying to… get things done,” she replies, cradling my face in her hands. “Are you doing alright?”
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“Of course. I’m looking at you, after all.” She blushes and smirks, but reverts to worry a moment after.
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“You sure? You look tired. Real tired.”
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“Nothing I can’t handle. Have a lot of planning to do.” She doesn’t seem convinced.
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“Don’t work yourself to death,” she whispers, resting her beak on my shoulder. “I need you.”
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“Don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough to worry about.”
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“Hard not to. Especially when you look like this. I know you didn’t sleep well.” That means she didn’t, either.
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“Just a hiccup. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” She sighs, relenting on that point. Gotta keep as much of a positive mindset as I can. Anything less, and I might as well throw in the towel now.
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“You think… you think we have time?” she asks.
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“Of course we do.” She hugs me tighter, and I return the gesture. I could fall asleep right here…
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“You’re hitting the floor if you do.” Bah, no fun. “Go lie down for a bit. I’ll see if I can find something to cook.”
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That sounds pretty nice…
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Another day of this shit. It would be almost bearable if I was running on more than a few hours of troubled sleep and the pitiful amount of food I forced down last night. I wish I could call in, just for one day, but I don’t think we can afford such a luxury. Just gotta keep powering through; It will all level out and I’ll come up with something, eventually.
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I wish I could at least enjoy my breaks. The second I sit down, all the anxiety and fear that spent the morning building up is unleashed all at once. What the fuck am I going to do? This piss-poor job eventually won’t be enough. How long do we have until Fang stops being able to work? What if she never gets that far to begin with?
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“Well, you don’t seem to be doing much better.”
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Who the fuck is talking to me? Some gray- oh, Jesus. Not this guy again. I would’ve preferred not remembering that bastard excuse of a conversation from yesterday. He sits down across the table from me again. The least he could do was ask, even if he would ignore me.
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“Young man with a big, sudden, personal issue involving a girl that leaves him so paralyzed he can barely eat. Can’t say it’s particularly hard to guess what that is,” he says. The shock from him pinpointing my situation so precisely is the only thing that stops me from bolting out the door and into oncoming traffic.
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“I’m not judging, but…” he continues. “You seem pretty hopeless. And I can tell you there’s a way through it. There always is.” There’s a short, awkward silence when I fail to reply, too busy attempting to analyze what’s going on. He’s trying to sell me some bullshit, isn’t he?
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“Seeing as you’re… here… I doubt you’re looking at the greatest of opportunities, and something tells me you aren’t exactly the criminal type. That limits your options, although it’s probably for the best.” That’s… what the fuck is this guy? What did he say he was yesterday? Something about the military? God, my head hurts.
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“Guess I should ask - does the lady have any work lined up?”
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“We’re… working on it,” I reply. I’m not entirely sure why, seeing as he doesn’t seem to have anything worthwhile to offer.
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“That’s a ‘no’.” Well, fuck you, too. We are working on it. It’s just… complicated. “And unless it’s some real good work, you don’t have long before you’re back to just this for money. Those months you think you have will dry up sooner than you think.”
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“So, let’s talk solutions,” he says. That word alone is enough to get my full attention, despite my reservations about him. Am I really this desperate?
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“Gonna go out on a limb and assume she wants to keep it. Would’ve been pretty cut and dry, otherwise.” Just the thought of ‘otherwise’ is enough to reduce my non-existent appetite even further. I don’t want to imagine how Fang would react to that idea.
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“You two by yourselves out here?” he asks. I shouldn’t be telling this complete stranger anything more about my personal life than I already have, but… I really am this desperate, aren’t I? These last two days have been absolute hell. I can’t imagine living the next two weeks or months like this.
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“Yeah, it’s just us,” I reply.
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“Still, doesn’t mean you’re all alone. You got folks that can help you out?”
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“No… they kind of kicked me out, anyway.”
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“Hard knocks. What about her’s?” That’s not an option. I should steer us away from this, and hopefully towards something more feasible.
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“Kicked her out, too,” I mutter. He hums to himself, thinking where to go next.
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“You’re… not a very good liar.” You have to be fucking kidding me. “Whatever the details might be, I think that’s a good place to start.”
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“You don’t… look, we… burned that bridge.”
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“I get it, just… that’s not your decision to make.”
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“I- what?” I sputter.
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“You don’t know this… yet…” he smirks. “But that bond between a parent and child… it can’t be broken from the child’s side. In your case, sure, they kicked you out. They made that decision. Maybe they’ll regret it one day, or maybe they’re trying to teach you some life lesson, or maybe something else. But her? Doesn’t sound like that’s the case. That bridge is a hell of a lot sturdier than you think. And if they have what you two need…”
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Fuck me… he’s right, isn’t he? Wasn’t Ripley trying to get in touch with Fang not long before we left? He could’ve had the police on me at any point if he wanted, yet we still got away unaccosted. There’s just one problem…
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“She’d never agree to it. There’s… too much bad blood,” I say.
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“She’d never agree to it, or you don’t think you could convince her?” he replies. That’s an interesting interpretation of what I said. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this guy is trying to piss me off.
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“Give me a shot,” he offers. “I convinced you pretty quickly, and while girls can be… complicated, it’s nothing I haven’t handled before.” Well, what’s the worst that could happen? He could piss off Fang, which would be the perfect excuse to never talk to this guy again. And in the best-case scenario… we might not be so fucked after all. I can’t believe I’m giving this guy the time of day.
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“Fine. One shot. I’ll see if I can get her here sometime soon. Around the same time as usual, I guess. Then you can… do whatever it is you’re thinking.”
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“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” Without another word, he gets up and leaves. Well… I guess that’s that. Is he some guardian angel, or did I make a deal with the devil? Or is this all a massive waste of time? Suppose I’ll find out soon.
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Damnit, I never got his name.
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It took me until the next day to work up the courage to ask Fang to go along with this plan. I tried my best to explain the situation without sketching her out completely, and I must have done a good job because she agreed with little pushback. We enter the McDino’s together and take a seat close to where I normally sit on breaks.
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“So… where is this guy?” Fang asks. I crane my head around, looking around and spotting him on his phone, in a booth by himself.
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“Over there. On his phone,” I say, gesturing towards him. There’s a quiet ruffle of feathers, and I look back to see Fang’s wings agitated and her eyes wide. “Uh- what’s-”
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“I swear I recognize him,” she whispers. Okay, keep calm. Prepare to exit quickly if need be.
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“Are you sure?”
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“I… maybe. I remember someone looking kind of like that talking to my dad a few times. We- we should go.”
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“Wait, wait. If this guy really was one of your dad’s goons, I would’ve been in handcuffs by now. Just… five minutes. If he turns out to be a creep, we dash.”
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“Fine, fine…” she mutters shakily. He gets up from his booth and starts walking over to us.