Afterward, they took their time.
Lip lit up a cigarette—the classic post-sex smoke—and felt completely relaxed.
Karen lay curled up in his arms.
The two of them talked.
Lip mentioned that he wanted to find the bastard who'd been targeting the Gallaghers—and make him pay, permanently.
Karen said she was all in.
Downstairs.
Fiona sat on the couch, drinking a beer and watching the clock. She already knew something was going on upstairs. She couldn't help but shake her head with a helpless, bitter smile, her emotions a tangled mess she couldn't even put into words.
He'd almost died, and still Lip hadn't learned a damn thing.
If this kept up, Lip would probably be stuck in this neighborhood for the rest of his life.
…
Fiona thought about a lot of things. She even considered going upstairs to stop them, but in the end, she just didn't have it in her. She stayed where she was.
Time slipped by.
A long while later—
Karen finally came downstairs.
Fiona looked at her for several seconds. There were so many things she wanted to say, but in the end, only one sentence came out.
"You're hurting him."
Karen said nothing. She ignored Fiona completely and walked out.
Seeing this, Fiona sighed and started thinking about how she could talk some sense into Lip.
About an hour passed.
It was 10 p.m.
Carl and Frank still hadn't come back.
Fiona still hadn't figured out how to deal with Lip, but seeing the time, she had no choice. She got up, put on her coat, and headed out to the Alibi to find them.
At that hour, the Alibi was nearly empty.
Frank was still running his mouth, bragging nonstop.
Carl was passed out on a couch nearby, fast asleep.
Jessie, the bartender on the late shift, spotted Fiona and gave her a tired, knowing smile without saying anything.
Fiona returned the smile, then walked over to Carl. Her heart ached as she bent down and gently lifted him.
Carl woke up, squinting sleepily when he saw her.
"Fiona?"
"Yeah. It's really late. Let's go home," Fiona said softly.
Carl nodded, then glanced at Frank.
"I can walk. I'll push Frank back."
Fiona didn't argue and set him down.
Carl went over to Frank.
"Dad, it's time to go home."
Frank was in the middle of a story, chugged a beer, and snapped,
"It's barely ten. What's the rush? Can't you see I'm talking here?"
"Fiona's here. We really need to go," Carl tried again.
"Wait a bit. Stop nagging," Frank shot back impatiently.
Fiona heard every word.
She couldn't hold it in anymore. Anger exploded out of her. She marched over to Carl.
"Carl, we're leaving. Don't worry about him."
"But…" Carl hesitated. "He can't get back by himself."
"Then let him die out here!" Fiona snarled, completely losing it.
Carl refused. He stayed silent—and didn't move.
"!!!!"
Fiona was losing her mind.
And the worst part was—Carl hadn't done anything wrong.
The next second, Fiona snapped. She lunged forward, grabbed the beer out of Frank's hand, and screamed at him:
"Frank! You useless, worthless piece of shit! Why the hell don't you just die?!"
Just like that—
All the anger Fiona had been bottling up for days came pouring out.
She screamed at him for nearly three full minutes before finally running out of breath.
Jessie the bartender was stunned.
The few drunks who'd been listening to Frank's bullshit sobered up a little—and stared in shock.
Carl and Frank were frozen too.
One second. Two seconds. Three…
Frank was the first to snap back. He flew into a rage and yelled,
"How dare you talk to your father like that—!"
He had no moral high ground, but that didn't stop him from screaming.
Fiona's eyes were red.
"Carl, let's go!"
Carl hesitated, didn't dare say anything else, nodded, and followed Fiona out of the bar.
Frank was still yelling.
Jessie couldn't stand it anymore. She said coldly, dripping with contempt,
"Frank, what's the point of someone like you even being alive?"
Frank immediately turned on her, but he didn't dare yell—he still needed this place to drink. His tone softened a lot.
"What kind of talk is that? Is that how you treat a customer?"
Jessie rolled her eyes and ignored him.
Frank didn't push it with her. He went back to arguing nonsense with the remaining drunks.
Before he realized it—
The drunks all left.
Frank finished his last beer, smiled at Jessie, and said,
"Jessie, I'll just sleep here tonight. Do me a favor…"
Jessie really didn't want to deal with him. But she knew Frank had no way of getting home on his own, and she couldn't bring herself to leave him outside to freeze. So she said harshly,
"No stealing booze. Don't trash the place."
"Of course, of course. I swear I'll just sleep here and do nothing else," Frank promised solemnly.
Jessie said nothing more. She finished up her work and went home.
—
A new day.
Debbie got up, wandered around the house, and couldn't find Frank. She panicked and ran to Carl.
"Carl, where's Frank?"
"I don't know," Carl replied coldly.
"How could you not know? You pushed him to the Alibi last night!" Debbie said anxiously.
"He didn't want to come back, so I came home," Carl said.
"?????"
Debbie exploded.
"How could you just leave him there?! Frank can't even move his legs! You left him there alone—how's he supposed to get back?"
"Go ask Fiona. Don't nag me," Carl snapped, brushing her off and walking away.
Debbie was frantic. She rushed to the kitchen, where Fiona was making breakfast.
"Fiona, why didn't Frank come back? Carl told me to ask you. What's going on?"
Fiona had already heard their argument. She shook her head.
"He refused to come home after ten. What was I supposed to do? Forget it. Eat breakfast and go to school."
"Eat my ass! How can you be like this?" Debbie couldn't take Fiona's attitude and lost it.
"No matter how bad he is, he's still our dad. Do you really want him dead that badly?"
Debbie went on in a rage. When she finished, she turned and ran out of the house.
"Where are you going?" Fiona shouted and chased after her.
"Leave me alone!" Debbie ran fast and was out the door in seconds.
Fiona sped up, caught her, and grabbed her arm.
"I'll go look for Frank later. You eat breakfast and go to school."
Debbie struggled hard, then froze when she heard that.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Only then did Debbie head back inside.
—
Around ten in the morning.
Fiona had taken the day off work. She arrived outside the Alibi.
The bar wasn't open yet.
She knocked and called through the door,
"Frank, are you in there?"
No response.
Fiona called again.
And again.
Each time, louder than the last.
Dexter had come out looking for food. He heard the shouting, recognized Fiona's voice, and immediately followed the sound, picking up his pace.
Soon—
Dexter spotted Fiona and quickly figured out what she was doing. He walked over.
"Fiona, what's going on?" Dexter asked, putting on a concerned look.
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American TV Series: Young Sheldon mike edition