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You could probably guess that Lip yet again disappointed me. After our hookup at the BBQ, he said he was dropping out of school to take care of Karen and the baby that probably wasn't even his. Fiona wasn't anywhere near okay with this idea, and she did her best to reason with him, I, on the other hand, kept a low profile, trying my best to avoid getting caught up in the brewing storm.
As I woke up that day, my arm dangled off the edge of Ian's bed, a clear sign that he managed to shove me halfway off during the night. Letting out a groan, I stood up and stretched my arms over my head, inadvertently waking Ian up in the process. He grumbled as he got up and threw my clothes at me. his own search for his belongings commencing. "Got ROTC today?" I asked him, to which he nodded, still rummaging around the room for his stuff.
"Seen my camo pants?" he inquired, his voice muffled by the task at hand.
I shrugged while slipping on my shirt, "Check the dryer maybe?" I suggested, following him downstairs.
And then, to my surprise, a voice echoed through the house, a voice I hadn't expected to hear for a while. "Ian!" Monica's voice boomed, "It's Ian!" Her face lit up with a wide smile, and I couldn't believe my eyes - she was actually back.
Ian glanced at Frank, a mix of confusion and irritation on his face. "What the hell is she doing here?" He directed his question at Frank.
"I asked your mother to come home," Frank stated, as if he hadn't spent the past few months living at Shelia's and not under his own roof.
"And you've moved back in?" Ian raised an eyebrow skeptically. I couldn't help but feel a sense of surrealism as I watched his estranged parents standing in the same room without hurling insults at each other. Grabbing Ian's camo pants from the dryer, I tossed them over to him.
Monica gestured towards the food spread on the counter, her enthusiasm uncontainable. "I made breakfast! You're just the perfect couple, I was so thrilled when Frank told me about you."
My eyebrow arched even higher as I shot a glance at Frank, my skepticism evident. "I'm surprised Frank even noticed," I quipped, a hint of amusement in my voice.
Ian turned to head back upstairs, clearly uninterested in the breakfast feast. I observed the assortment of dishes, noting that they didn't look half bad. However, given Ian's complicated history with his mother, I didn't want to overstep any boundaries of appear as if I were taking sides.
Frank's patience seemed to wane as Ian rejected the meal. "Your mother put effort into making breakfast. Sit down and eat!" He bellowed, showcasing a rare display of discipline towards his offspring.
Ian's response was curt and defiant, "This is bullshit." And with that, he walked away, leaving the tension in the room palpable.
