"The fuck you are!" James snapped fully awake now, "as much as Greg and I love the kids, we're not going through shitty diapers, toilet training, tantrums and picky eating all over again! We've done our time! We're not starting over! Hell no!"
"I'll book you an appointment at the clinic, Lisa, hell I'll even go with you if you want me to," Greg added in a softer voice, holding James' hand and giving it a gentle squeeze to pull him back down to Earth.
"Clinic? As in an ultrasound?" Lisa frowned, "I'll be okay to go by myself,"
"Clinic as in abortion clinic," Greg muttered, standing up and grabbing the pot to pour himself another cup of coffee, "sorry Lisa, but James is right, we're not going to raise another kid; Tyson and Charlie are more than enough on our plates right now,"
"I'm not having an abortion!" Lisa snapped.
"Lisa, look, James and I can't do this again. We can't raise another kid, let alone another Gallagher. It's… it's just a bunch of cells right now, it's not a baby, it's a collection of cells, it's not sentient, it's not breathing, it's not alive…" Greg continued.
"Stop calling my baby an 'it'!" Lisa yelled, standing up, "my baby is a miracle baby!"
"A 'miracle baby' would be James and I somehow having a kid naturally; that'd be a miracle… This is… just a mistake that we need to fix. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you'd just wrapped it up," Greg shook his head, "how do you think this is going to go, Lisa? Are you going to move back to Jersey?" and Lisa shook her head and stated she was staying here now that she was expecting; "okay then," Greg continued as calmly and flatly as he could, "where is 'miracle baby' going to sleep? Because that spare room is certainly not big enough to make into a nursery, and are you going to stay home 24/7 to look after 'miracle baby'?"
"Well, no, I'll be looking for a job to work, to hopefully manage a hospital. I don't see how either of you should have any input in this discussion about my child," Lisa answered.
"So, nothing will be changing on that front," James frowned, "Lisa, Greg and I have done our time when Charlie was really little. Finally, now that she's somewhat independent, you want us to start again? Because I'll tell you how this is going to end up going is that you're going to continue your workaholic ways, Rob will keep drinking and continue to flit in and out of our lives and the house, and jail, he can barely keep up with this conversation now, how is he going to keep up with the chaos of raising a child? The reality is that Greg and I will be left to take care of another child, another baby. That's not fair on us Lisa, we're perfectly happy with two children, we don't need a third, we don't need or want to raise another baby. Either you get an abortion, or you move out; it's crowded enough in here as it is without adding a baby to the mix. Plus, these Gallagher kids, they're a lot of work on top of a regular kid as it is anyway, without adding infancy into the mix as well. I agree with Greg, abortion is definitely the best option, or you can always adopt the baby out. But we can't raise another kid, Lisa, we're just way too tired,"
"I can raise a child," Lisa frowned, "I have maternal instincts! Neither of you have MATERNAL instincts and yet the two of you have custody of two children,"
"And it's fucking hard Lisa. Not to mention the family that you're breeding into here, if a regular child is a level one, a Gallagher child is like a level one thousand. And as much as we love him, don't think that Rob is going to be a massive help or anything. Since Josie died; he can't seem to stay dedicated to one woman. And look, it's 9:30 in the fucking morning and he's drinking a beer, and it's not his first of the morning, far from it. Rob is drunk right now to the point that he has no clue whatsoever what I'm saying or able to follow this conversation whatsoever. He's not going to be a positive, active father role, or necessarily a good husband either. Marriage and a long-term relationship isn't all rainbows and unicorns, Lisa, it's fucking hard. It's mountains of radical acceptance, it's a lot of being so frustrated you want to scream, its constant forgiveness, and it's constant work; especially once the honeymoon phase wears off," Greg warned.
"Lisa, think about it, I know that your hormones are all over the place right now, but really think about it. Remember how much work it was managing Greg at his hardest and most frustrating? Well, he was an adult with all the self-control that comes with that; and Greg is only half Gallagher, and had a lot of the childhood spirit beaten, or worse, out of him. Imagine Greg, undisciplined, and as a child; and that you will get absolutely no reprieve; ever. This is now the rest of your life if you go through with this pregnancy," James continued, "I'm sorry babe, but you are a lot of fucking work. You always have been. Maybe we should leave you with the kids for a week and see how you handle it? Greg's birthday is coming up; and we're thinking about going to Toronto. We'll leave you with Tyson and Charlie for a week and see how you feel about having a Gallagher baby after that. Give Greg and I a chance to… catch up on some things and have a true birthday celebration," James offered.
"Fine, and I'll prove to you that I can handle it all perfectly. You'll come back and it'll be all Mary Poppins up in this joint," Lisa smirked, folding her arms.
"Yeah, we'll see about that," James laughed, standing up, "I'm going to go back to sleep,"
"I'm going to go and check on the kids," Greg stood up, "you're being emotional and immature about this Lisa, you're going to regret it. Everything you've worked for, climbing the ladder, all of that will be gone. You'll be a mother working alone raising a kid with no help from Homer Simpson over there,"
"Do you regret your kids?" Lisa shot back.
"No. I don't, but Lisa, my situation couldn't be more different than yours. I'm married, I'm in a long-term, lifelong relationship with someone who is stable and not an addict, my husband works and earns a good living, and I'm suited to staying at home. Not to mention that our babies were already born when we adopted them. Our situations couldn't be more different. If you're asking if it's hard? Damn right it is fucking hard, and that's with my husband supporting me, Rob's not going to support you, Lisa. He wants next to nothing to do with his own grandkids and spends all of his time drinking; either here or down at the bar. Do you really think he's going to help you long term with a baby? Come on Lisa, you deserve better than this," Greg answered, before wrapping his knuckles on the table and walking out of the room, shouting up to the kids to come downstairs and go to the park, as Lisa looked over at Rob, his thin, frail body dwarfed in his still oversized clothes as he took another drink and she sighed deeply. They're right. Once again, they're fucking right. What am I going to do?
"What's going on?" Rob slurred from his chair and Lisa sighed before feeling a rush of nausea come up her throat and bolted upstairs.
"You're not seriously leaving me to babysit your kids for a week, are you?" Lisa screamed, chasing James out of the house, who chucked the suitcases in the back of the truck.
"You agreed to it, you don't have to do it; but if you don't experience the joyous hell of looking after young Gallaghers then you have to get an abortion or give the baby up for adoption, your choice," James shook his head; "you have emergency numbers, just keep them from killing each other and try and stop Tyson from pissing out his bedroom window. The neighbours complain about it,"
"But-" Lisa began.
"But nothing, Lisa, we single handedly keep this family up and running, we want to spend a romantic weekend away. You know how we spent Valentine's Day? Stuck in isolation in a blizzard with no electricity, no phones, no entertainment aside from a stack of cards in a basement with two other adults we were rapidly getting mutual cabin fever with, plus three young kids, and a Rottweiler. Does that sound remotely at all romantic to you?" James started to snap, "we just want to spend a few days away for Greg's birthday; if you can't handle the kids, then fine, just tell me, otherwise we'll see you on Monday morning," James jumped in the driver's seat and started up the engine, Greg shrugged and climbed in the passenger seat and Lisa watched with a growing sense of dread as the truck backed out the driveway. "Romantic birthday weekend, here we come," James grinned over at Greg as they turned off the street.
"Where's Daddy and Papa?" Charlie asked around the table at lunch, as she picked through her food, "this is gross," she threw half of her sandwich at Lisa, "make it the same way Daddy makes it!"
"They're in Toronto for a few days, I'm looking after you," Lisa muttered, clearing up the food, "you wanted a peanut butter sandwich, that's what I made for you," she sighed. Charlie looked back at her with challenging eyes, identical to Greg's, differing only in colour, and began to try and productively cough while maintaining perfect eye contact until she threw up all over the kitchen table, stood up and walked away, leaving a pile of stinking vomit on the table as a pure 'fuck you' that made Lisa's stomach flip and do cartwheels internally as she tried to not gag and vomit herself while cleaning it up. Tyson laughed hysterically and nearly fell off his chair before getting up and abandoning his own lunch, heading upstairs to his bedroom as the dog began to lick droplets of puke off Lisa's feet, the idea of which on its own made her feel incredibly ill.
"Haha, the kids hate you, that's funny," Rob slurred from his seat, and Lisa shot him a look as she pushed Shady away with her foot and started trying to clear up the puke without crying at the situation which she'd found herself in, and dialling James' phone, who picked up on the road.
"Hello?" James asked, and Lisa felt her heart flutter a bit at the idea of help.
"Oh, good, you're here to help, look you need to stop your charade and come back and help me!" she cried.
"Lisa, no. We're halfway to Toronto; we're not turning back now. Just use your 'maternal instincts' and figure it all out yourself. Remember, it's a simple task; keep them alive, just make sure that no one dies, and we'll be home on Monday, bye," and then the line went dead.
"So, she lasted a tad over three hours," James smiled over at Greg in bed that evening.
"At least she didn't call back again," Greg pointed out.
"Uhh, maybe, I did switch my cell phone off," James muttered.
"James!" Greg growled in annoyance, reaching over and grabbing it, switching it back on just to be greeted with several images of puke from the table, "ugh, yeah, they're fine," as he tossed it back onto the floor and leant forward to give James a strong, passionate kiss.
Lisa woke up the following morning to a smack in the face; "what the fuck?" she muttered, raising her arms up and staring at Charlie staring back at her, "why are you smacking me awake? Why can't you just gently nudge me like a normal person? What? What do you want, Charlie?"
"Don't panic," Charlie began.
"That's what you start off with? Charlie, what did you do?" Lisa gasped.
"Don't be mad," Charlie continued, "you have to promise not to be mad,"
"That's what you follow up with? Charlie what did you do?" Lisa gasped, and Charlie pulled a face.
"You promise you won't be mad? My lips are sealed until you promise," Charlie continued, and Lisa sighed and hesitantly agreed, "you have to pinky promise," to which Lisa exhaustedly held out her hand and Charlie took her pinky in her own and exaggeratedly nodded them up and down, "by the power sworn in by the pinky, you can now no longer be mad no matter what may or may not have occurred,"
"You know how much you remind me of Greg?" Lisa mumbled into her pillow, "what did you do, Charlie?"
"Tyson and I were playing 'Survivor' and we needed kindling so we burned everyone's underwear so that the night bear wouldn't get us," Charlie nodded, "but don't worry we put it out,"
"Now you and your brother really remind you of your fathers," Lisa sat up, waking up a bit more, and rubbed her temples, frowning, "wait, wait you burned everyone's underwear?"
"And all of Papa and Daddy's shirts," Charlie nodded, "it was pretty big, it was to ward off the night bear,"
"And the night bear would be?"
"Shady,"
"Of course it was Shady," Lisa muttered still half asleep and not really noting the extremity of the situation, "how did you put out the fire? With water? The extinguisher?"
"With Daddy's special shoes that he doesn't wear, and we aren't allowed to touch; he said he paid a lot of money for them," Charlie nodded, "they are ruined, but the fire is gone,"
Lisa's eyes went wide, "Daddy? Or Papa?"
"Daddy," Charlie frowned.
"Long haired daddy?" Lisa winced, internally hoping; knowing that Greg's prized sneaker collection was down in the basement, and Charlie shook her head and frowned.
"That's Papa,"
"Like that's the most important thing right now," Lisa muttered, "show me what you've done," getting increasingly irritated as Charlie spun around and skipped out of the room. There, in the hallway, was a charred mess of clothing, but worse, there, on the edge of the fire were Greg's vintage, brand new, original, Nike Air Force One's sitting there; completely and utterly destroyed. "He's going to kill me," Lisa whispered, eyes wide, and held her stomach protectively, "which means you're going to die too,"
Greg sleepily answered the phone, "hello?"
"Greg? Why are you answering James' phone?" Lisa asked rapidly in a pure panic.
Greg frowned, "he's still sleeping… I was still sleeping for that matter,"
"Greg, it's nearly 11…" Lisa started, and Greg cut her off.
"Yeah, Lisa, it is. We were having a sleep in, we travelled all day yesterday and we were up all night last night, we didn't get to sleep until about 5am," Greg grumbled, "what do you want?"
"Why were you up so late?" Lisa bided her time, and an air of awkward silence fell between them.
"We're away from our kids for the first time in ages, celebrating my birthday, as a married couple, what do you think we were doing all night?" Greg growled, "Lisa, why are you ringing?"
"It's nothing I can't sort out on my own, but I'm just letting you know as a courtesy… are you sure I can't talk to James about this?" Lisa started, sensing the anger and irritation radiating from Greg through the phone line.
"No, James is sleeping, I told you. Lisa, what the fuck do you want?" Greg snapped and Lisa flinched.
"The kids lit a fire," Lisa winced, "but don't worry, it's out, they put it out themselves,"
"What do you mean they lit a fucking fire? Why weren't you watching them? Did they tell you why they lit a fire?" Greg snapped, before sinking down on the bed, and James rolled over and sat up on his elbows, listening.
"They were playing 'Survivor' and they wanted to gather kindling… for their fire," Lisa muttered, "we were asleep,"
"They were playing fucking 'Survivor'," Greg groaned to himself, "and what did they burn? What was their 'kindling'?"
"All of yours and James' clothes," Lisa whispered, and Greg groaned and roared, standing up.
"I guess we're standing now," James mumbled, watching everything unfold.
"You said they put the fire out. What did they use to put the fire out with?" Greg asked, and Lisa was silent, "Lisa. What did the kids use to extinguish the fire?"
"Your shoes. More precisely, your vintage Nike Air Force Ones," Lisa winced, and Greg felt rising anger come over him and just stood there silently his eyes growing wider in rage and grip tightening around the phone. Lisa could only hear his breathing down the phone as James came over and took the cell phone from Greg's hand.
"Hey Lisa, it's James, what's going on? Because Greg looks like he's about to turn into the Hulk," James asked.
"I knew he'd be mad; the kids were playing 'Survivor' while we were asleep, made a pile of yours and Greg's clothes, lit it on fire, and then extinguished the fire with Greg's vintage Air Force Ones," Lisa explained.
"Oh yeah, that'd do it," James agreed, "yeah, he's… he's pretty angry, Lisa,"
"Yeah, I knew he would be," Lisa confessed.
"Why didn't you just wait then until after his birthday, now his birthday is ruined and we're going to spend it sitting in traffic, and coming back to discipline the kids," James sighed, "this isn't anything like what I had in mind for his special day,"
"You're coming back? Today? Why?" Lisa frowned.
"What do you mean 'why'?" James yelled, "you let our children light our house on fire! Look, it's just gone 11am now, with traffic and border crossings and everything; we'll be home before dinner. Greg's already throwing everything back in our bags, I guess we'll see you tonight," James sighed, "poor Greg, he's really needed this break for his mental health…" and then the phone line went dead as James hung up.
Pulling back up in the driveway, Greg swung out of the passenger side door and strode towards the front of the house; "Greg, we'll go out for dinner later this week," James promised as he pulled the suitcase from the backseat.
"Sure, we will James. Meanwhile just allowing the children the opportunity to blow up the house that time. It's fine, it doesn't matter," Greg muttered as Lisa let him in. "Charlie! Tyson! Get your asses here right now!" Greg screamed walking inside, and James scampered off after him. Lisa looked at Greg and in nearly 25 years of knowing him, she didn't think that she'd ever seen him quite this angry; "show me what the fuck you two little shits did!" Greg screamed, as the kids shyly, with their heads down, led him over to where the scorched carpet was and Lisa flinched while she watched Greg analyse the damage, "right, who lit this fire?" Greg growled, and Charlie slowly raised her hand, "right! And who decided that lighting clothes on fire was a good idea for playing a fucking game?" as Tyson slowly raised his, "and who decided that my very expensive sneakers that neither of you will ever be able to repay was the right thing to use to put out a fire?" and Tyson lowered his hand, but Charlie kept hers up. "Okay then, lesser offender first! Tyson! Put your hands up against the wall and stand there," Tyson obeyed his father, "you shitting little motherfucker!" Greg screamed as he unbuckled his belt and then whipped it across Tyson's backside and then pushed him aside, who ran to James, only to find his Papa cold, distant and frigid in fury too. "Charlie!" Greg barked; "get your fucking ass here!" and whipped her twice across the backside with his belt. "Now, I don't want to see anyone else except for James until tomorrow, when we'll have to replace this carpet. One weekend! I just wanted one fucking weekend to myself! And I'll tell you little sobbing motherfuckers something for nothing; you're lucky that you didn't grow up with my father and tried to pull anything remotely like this, so stop fucking crying! Both of you! Happy fucking birthday to you, Greg, here's your kids setting your house on fire and destroying your vintage Air Force Ones! Happy fucking birthday to me!" Greg screamed, out of control, as he stalked over to the basement door, opening it and then slamming it shut with all of his force.
"Papa, why is Daddy so mad at us?" Charlie asked, looking up at James with a quivering lip.
"Why is he so mad? Why is he so mad?" James repeated in shock, "why do you fucking think? Because you two motherfuckers not only lit all our clothes on fire inside the house and put the fire out using his shoes, and not just any shoes, but daddy's special shoes. Do you have any idea how long it took him to save up for those shoes?" and Tyson and Charlie shook their heads in shame, "years," James repeated, "he saved up every single penny for years to afford those shoes, he talked about them all the time, he was so proud and excited to get them, and now look at them! They're completely destroyed," James then looked over at Lisa and Rob, "it's been a really long, stressful day, we're going to go to bed. Only interrupt us if one of them dies. Night," as he followed Greg down into the basement.
James walked down the stairs to find Greg sitting on the edge of his bed, resting his chin on top of his intertwined fingers as he rested his chin atop them. "I can't believe I belted my children," he mumbled, glancing in disgust at the discarded belt on the floor, "I can't believe, for all of my faults, that I would actually hit them with my belt. God, it's like something my father would've done," he shook his head and placed his head in his hands, "God, James, I'm a fucking monster,"
"You're not a monster, you're… you're a parent, and sometimes we make choices in emotional moments, such as in moments of rage, where maybe we don't make the best decisions. But nothing happened today that is going to cause lasting effects or lasting problems for them. You're nothing at all like John, at all. God, it's horrible that I even have to say that… But you aren't. Because you and I both know that John's discipline didn't stop at occasional beltings, did they?" James pointed out as Greg made a face, "however, something that is becoming a rather troubling precedent is Charlie lighting fires. This is the third fire she's started in three months… first the microwave, then that patch of leaves in the backyard, and now lighting our clothes on fire… something's going on with Charlie; and I don't think it's just Rob leaving his lighter lying around where she can grab it,"
"What do you think is going on?" Greg asked through a mask of tears.
"I… I don't know, Greg, I really don't. Obviously in a situation like this… the imagination can go to the worst possible outcomes, but it's important to give it time, probably get her in to see a therapist or something…" James sighed.
"'Worst possible outcomes' like that she's being molested?" Greg's eyes went wide, "who on Earth would be doing that? They're going to regret the day they were born once I figure out who it is!" yelling as he stood up.
"Sit down! That's not what I meant. More like, I don't know, we should make sure that she's not going to grow up to become a psychopath or something… you know, that she's so young and lighting fires and things, that's what I meant. Greg, nobody's getting to the kids, they basically live under lock and key here… but yes, if anyone was doing anything to either of them; I'd be right beside you, and helping you dispose of the body… lots of places to dump a body where it'll never be found in the Michigan wilderness," James playfully added at the end and nudged Greg gently in the ribs; who for the first time that afternoon broke into a smile and small laugh.