GAME OVER ━━ Lip Gallagher

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

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Game Over
chapter forty eight

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TW:
mentions of blood and self harm in
the later part of the chapter.

                    THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT THANKSGIVING THAT MADE PHOEBE EVEN MORE TIRED. She could remember not eating a whole day just to save room for the usual festive array of food. She could also remember discarding the turkey giblets and the neck bone even though it made her gag in disgust. But now that she's alone, she doesn't feel so obliged to follow those rules. Maybe that's why she dragged Alan out of bed and over to her mother's for brunch. The two entered the warm house, shedding off the clothing shielding them from the winter cold. "Do I smell coffee?" Alan asked, his nose in the air sniffing like a bloodhound. "That you do. I just put on a pot," Millie responded with a laugh. The guests kicked off their shoes without hesitation. "He basically lives off of the stuff," Phoebe explained as he slipped between the two, making a beeline for the kitchen.

          "Most people do nowadays," Millie replied with a half shrug. She hesitated, but decided to give Phoebe a small hug, her hand patting over the girl's back. Phoebe reciprocated just as awkwardly, releasing a short laugh. "You look nice." Phoebe glanced toward her mother's outfit. She wore a burnt orange turtleneck with a black vest over it with white stitching. "I know you're going to the Gallagher's for Thanksgiving dinner," Millie began to explain, ringing her fingers out in front of her, "so I thought I would treat this like Thanksgiving dinner. I would much rather do this than go to another family function to explain why neither you nor your father is there with me." A sympathetic feeling washed over the younger girl as she listened. She frowned a bit to herself. "Eh, it's so boring there anyway. All they talk about is football, their jobs, and their kids. You're better off here."

          "What kind of coffee is this?" Alan asked curiously, walking back up to the two women with a cup in hand. Millie's brows rose for a moment as she tried to recall just what she had bought. "Ah, I think it's just a dark roast. The creamer is hazelnut, though." Alan's face contorted into one of realization. He took another sip, the steam warming his red cheeks. Phoebe wanted to laugh at him for being so cute, but refrained from doing so. "Do you want to try?" He moved closer to the group, holding his cup out to Phoebe. She took it gratefully and took a small drink. It was good, though she wasn't the biggest fan of coffee. She would drink this, though. "Good, huh?" He looked like a proud father with the way his eyes gleamed. He smiled so brightly that Phoebe almost felt blinded. "Yeah. It's good," she laughed, handing the cup back over to his waiting hands. "Well, let's not allow the food to get cold. I made a big breakfast."

          Millie took the lead toward the kitchen. Everything was once again set up in nice platters, lining the surface of the kitchen island. There were eggs, biscuits, pancakes, sausage links, and a gallon of orange juice was sitting on the counter. Phoebe bit down on her bottom lip. She had been so hungry. The smell of it all was making her mouth water. "I was thinking we could sit in the living room. We can put something on the record player and talk?" For a moment, Phoebe's eyes flickered toward the empty dining room. The table was no longer set. The tablecloth was wrinkled. Her mind flickered between now and then, hands nervously pulling at the hem of her skirt. "Let's eat in the dining room," she blurted out, surprising even herself. Millie looked at her with wide eyes. "You want– Are you sure? You didn't do too well last time."