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Game Over
chapter forty three
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CARL WAS RUTHLESS. No kid stood a chance against the Gallagher boy. He played hard, fought dirty, and had no qualms about the consequences. Phoebe held one of the pillow cases Fiona had decorated for the game, sitting at the edge of her seat, completely entranced with the game before her. There was something about kids hurting one another that made her laugh. "Let's go, Carl!" she shouted as the referee blew his whistle. The opposing side had been tackled. The Gallaghers all sat in one place on the bleachers. They had an ice chest and were selling water (and beer) for a pretty good price. "Hey, Fi," Phoebe shouted over the cheers, taking the seat beside Fiona once she had sat down. The older girl glanced toward Phoebe with a smile before focusing back on the game.
"I gotta ask you something serious." This had the brunette turning back to the younger girl, the smile on her face shrinking away slowly. "Go ahead," she said, brows pinched. Ever since kicking Lip out, Phoebe's had a lot to think about. The one person she truly wanted to be there wouldn't be there anymore, and now she had absolutely no one to help her out with wedding planning. Fiona nudged the quiet girl, worry washing over her features. "Everything's okay!" the girl quickly stated, eyes wide and hands waving in front of her. "It's not, like, life or death. But I was wondering... you know, if you'd be down to take the position as my maid of honor?" Fiona looked flabbergasted. "What about Lip?" The mention of the Gallagher boy made Phoebe visibly grimace. "He bailed. Said he didn't care, and some other stupid shit. I may have uninvited him."
Fiona shook her head. The cool breeze tangled within her curly hair. It left their skin tinged pink underneath the green paint Monica had persisted they should wear to show their team spirit. "I don't know," she sighed. "I can't do this on my own, Fi. I tried and I failed my freaking chemistry test because I was too busy memorizing flower names." She peered over at the other girl with hope. She knew Fiona wasn't as skilled with this. Veronica's wedding was held at the Alibi, and they barely did anything to prepare, but she trusted her. "It doesn't have to be big or anything. We're holding it at the men's club, and there's only gonna be a few people. I'm not asking you to plan this huge, fairytale wedding." Fiona snapped her head toward the younger girl with a slight smile. "Okay," she interrupted the small rant, stopping the girl mid sentence. "I'll do it. How hard can it be, right?"
"Really?" The genuine relief that washed over Phoebe felt like she had been pushed inside a giant bubble and was floating off of the ground. She threw her arms around Fiona suddenly, her arms squeezing tight. "Oh-kay," Fiona laughed, patting the girl's back. A whistle blowing tore the two from their moment and they were back on their feet, trying to figure out what had just happened. She could hardly spot Carl on the field. Phoebe's hand tightened around the pillowcase as she squinted toward the field, trying to spot the number on the boy's back. "Shit." She turned to look at Alan, who had suddenly gotten up from his seat with a curse. "Where are you going?" she asked, confused. "I got a call. I'll be right back." Her jaw dropped a bit as he kissed her temple, sliding past her. "Are you serious? Do you have to take it now?"
He didn't answer, his phone already pressed to his ear. She pouted, sitting back down against the bleachers. Ever since Rollie had found out about her, he's been checking in a lot more. He found out about the wedding eventually. She wasn't sure how, Alan didn't tell her. But knowing that he knew didn't sit right with her. She looked back over the field where the kids tussled. Before she knew it, a head of curly hair began to block her view. She curled her lip at the sight of Phillip Gallagher escorting Steve's extremely hot Brazilian wife. He approached Deb's first, wrapping her into a side hug and kissing her head. "Lip!" Monica called cheerfully, waving the boy over. "Come on, honey, sit down!"
Shocked, his eyes transferred from Monica to the members of his family. They skated over Phoebe, landing on Fiona, jaw tight. Phoebe had to remind herself that she didn't care if he looked at her anyway. "What, I'm off the boat for one minute and there's a fucking mutiny?" he asked dramatically. Fiona scoffed. "Yeah, well no one told you to get out of the boat," she responded. His brows rose for a moment. "Actually, you did." Estefania's eyes met Phoebe's and she flashed the brunette a smile. The younger girl's eyes widened. "Hey, Lip, don't be mad at Fiona," Monica tried to interfere. She was taking the parenting thing pretty seriously. Lip looked at the woman in surprise. "Hey, Monica, shut up. You know what, like most of my life, this has nothing to do with you." Estefania grabbed Lip's sleeve and pointed at Alan's abandoned spot. "I sit?" she asked.
"What? Yeah, sit. Wherever's fine." She was quick to take the seat beside Phoebe, sitting rather close. "Olá," Phoebe greeted the girl, getting a surprised gasp in return. "Ah, olá! Você fala português?" Phoebe wasn't completely sure what she had said. Ever since Steve started bringing her around, Phoebe thought she should probably try and learn Portuguese. It could maybe help Estefania feel more welcome, more at home, but the language was definitely not easy to learn. "Meu português não é muito bom," she admitted, hoping she hadn't butchered the statement. "When did you become the Duo Lingo owl?" Fiona asked, obviously upset by Phoebe fraternizing with the enemy. She turned toward the older girl with a nervous smile. "I study a lot," she lied. "My brain is always eating."
"Você é muito bonita." Estefania took a piece of Phoebe's hair, examining her haircut with interest. "Você quer ser um menino?" Phoebe turned her attention back onto Estefania, her brow set in confusion. "Huh?" Her attention turned back to Lip storming off, his heavy footsteps echoing off of the metal bleachers. What had she missed? Fiona slapped her hand over her forehead before stepping over Phoebe's legs. "Your son's a real prick," Frank commented before taking a swig of his beer. "What is... uh.." Estefania patted Phoebe's arm, trying to get her attention. "Name?" The younger girl looked back to the Brazilian sitting next to her. Her cheeks flushed once she noticed how close she had gotten. "Phoebe," she answered, smiling over at the girl. "Phoebe," Estefania repeated, beaming at the girl. "You gave away my seat?"
Alan stood in front of them in confusion, hands outstretched, palms up. "You snooze, you lose," Phoebe responded with a pout. He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. Instead of arguing, he climbed the bleachers to come up behind her, sitting with his knees on either side of her. "Hey, can you speak Portuguese?" she asked curiously. His eyebrows lifted questioningly. "We should ask her for a threesome." Her voice dropped lower than a whisper. Alan stared at her for a moment. "Shouldn't you ask her husband first?" he queried. She shrugged her shoulders. "I'd rather ask her first and save the embarrassment if Steve says yes and she says no." She grimaced at the thought of being rejected in front of Steve of all people. "So, you know Portuguese?"
"It's not great," he admitted, "but I do know it." She smiled up at him, patting his cheek gently. "You really are a jack of all trades, huh?" He leaned down to peck her lips, fingers catching her chin between them. She sighed into the kiss, mouth turning up into a smile. He pulled back with a ghost of a smirk, his fingers dragging gently over her skin. "Okay," he sighed. "I'll ask." She bit down on her bottom lip, nervous for her answer. She wouldn't be upset if she said no. She'd be a little embarrassed, but it wouldn't warrant a sudden change in mood. Alan cleared his throat before tapping Estefania lightly on the shoulder. "Olá," he began, the girl smiling at him. "Você gostaria de fazer sexo com a gente?" Sexo, Phoebe thought. Not very subtle. Estefania stared at Alan for a moment before slapping him. Phoebe gasped in surprise. It was a justified response, but it still shocked her.
Alan cradled his cheek with a slight pout. "Oh, shit," Phoebe nervously laughed. "Are you ok—" Estefania took hold of the girl's cheeks before directing her mouth over her own. It was quick, messy. Her perfume infiltrated Phoebe's senses. She melted into the kiss, cupping the girl's neck before running her fingers through her silky hair. "Hey!" Fiona snapped once she noticed the two, using the pillowcase to hit Phoebe. "She's married!" Estefania showed no signs of stopping. They breathed the best they could through their noses, their lips, teeth, and tongues touching in the most sensual ways. Phoebe waved Fiona off, not wanting to be taken away from this euphoria.
Her lip gloss tasted like artificial fruit. She could also taste the mint from her toothpaste. She took long drags of air once they parted, noses bumping one another, eyes peering dangerously into the other's. "Damn," Alan spoke up, tearing Phoebe out of her lustful haze. "She kisses like an angel."
—
It was worth a try, Phoebe thought. Though it hadn't gotten to where she would have liked it to with Estefania, she was pretty pleased with the lip action she had gotten. She took off her jacket the moment she walked in through the back door of the grocery. She was a few minutes early and the parking lot was nearing empty. She hung her jacket over her arm, taking out her card and stamping it into the clock. It slipped out with ease and she put it back in its place. It was the middle of November and as Phoebe walked into the main building, all she could hear was Michael Bublé's voice singing a Christmas carol. "Christ," she stated, ignoring the way the customer close to her jumped in fright. "It isn't even Thanksgiving yet and they're already playing Christmas music."
She swung her arms as she walked through the canned foods aisle, not in any particular hurry to get to a register. There were several of them there, so she didn't have to run. "Miss Lim." She turned around at the call of her surname. Standing at the back office was her boss, Mr. O'Fallon. He was a short man with hair as orange as Fanta. He had no facial hair, and that included his eyebrows. They were as white as snow. "Yes?" she replied, raising her brows. He held up what appeared to be a white envelope with black handwriting on the front. "Someone left this at the register. It has your name on it." She scoffed. "Really?" He looked at her in confusion. "Why would I joke?" Quickly, she met him outside his office and took the envelope from his hands. Like he said, her name was right there in black ink. "Thanks," she hummed, giving her employer a tight lipped smile.
She wondered what it could be. Who would give her a letter, much less leave it at a cash register in the store. The only people who really mattered to her knew where she lived, where she hung out, what her phone number was. Could it be a satisfied customer? An unsatisfied customer? At least if they were unsatisfied, they were talking to her rather than her boss. She sluggishly returned to her register and plopped down on the stool behind her counter. She flipped over the letter curiously. There was something familiar about the handwriting, she just couldn't quite place what it was. She glanced around her to scope out any customers heading her way and when she found one, she ripped open the envelope. A sheet of lined paper was inside. The ink bled through to the back, and she could see her name written on the first line. "What the hell," she muttered to herself, unfolding the letter carefully.
"Dear Phoebe," she read aloud to herself. She quickly zipped her mouth, not wanting anyone who approached her to hear what was meant only for her eyes. Once again, she scoped out her surroundings before turning back to the letter. It read:
Dear Phoebe,
I know this may come as a shock for me to reach out to you. I was too afraid to tell you this in person. I am almost positive that you'd laugh in my face, though I wouldn't blame you. Your father has left me. His current escapade is pregnant, and apparently it is a boy. I've never seen Patrick so overjoyed. He didn't even pack. He just left without a word and sent the divorce papers in the mail.
This information isn't the only thing I would like to talk to you about. I know that how I've treated you is inexcusable, and if you choose to ignore this entirely, I will understand. However, I want to reconcile with you. I know that we may not get to the point of being mother and daughter, but I would still like to be in your life. I would like to make up for the pain you endured the best I can.
Here is my phone number. I will wait for your call, if you choose to call after all. I am so sorry for what I put you through.
Millie
She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she felt that familiar sting from lack of oxygen. She bit down on her bottom lip in thought. She hadn't expected that. Millie had apologized once before, but this was a new step. She was actually reaching out to her without being coerced. The news about her father didn't surprise her. It would be the promise of a son that made him finally leave. Greedy bastard, she thought to herself. She folded the paper once more, folded it a few more times, and shoved it into her pocket. She didn't know if she'd call. She was still in shock that it had actually happened.
It would be nice to talk to Millie now that she had accepted the nature of her father. Perhaps she was finally rid of his haze and could talk to her without that cloud of self pity. Phoebe began chewing on her thumbnail in thought, her legs swinging against the stool. Should she call? She could finally talk to her, get out all of those feelings that have been residing inside of her for years. Maybe she could make Millie see how badly they had hurt her, understand how detrimental their actions were to her mental health. Maybe she'd realize how awful she was and become better. She crumpled up the empty envelope in her hand and tossed it in the bin. Stop thinking about it, she scolded herself.
She'd talk to Alan about it later, get his input. She didn't have to think about it right then. She patted the pocket it resided in before busying herself with cleaning her counter.
from rumi . . .
lowkey living through phoebe
this ep bc estefania is so hot
this chapter is so short tho. ugh.
but yeah! a lot happens. we have
a makeout session for pheebs, &
her mom reached out. patrick is
a total dick but we been knew this.
how did you guys like the chapter?
what's your favorite part?
definitely alan asking for a threesome and
getting slapped, but phoebe getting kissed.
i don't know why its so funny to me.
don't forget to vote + comment!