Chapter Text
Max had been working as a repair technician for a while now. Not out of passion, but because he needed to take on a more lucrative job.
His father lost his position a few years prior after an unfortunate accident. Much to Max’s worry, their financial situation was not looking good. The bills were stacking, the debt was going nowhere. So, taking a few cheap courses and looking up some tutorials seemed like a smarter option, than hopping from one cashier job to another.
Granted, without any real degree, this job wasn’t exactly well-paid either. They weren’t suddenly well off, but Max silently applauded himself for his decision. They were able to sustain themselves and sometimes even overpay to their creditors, and it needed to be enough, for now at least.
It wasn’t as if older Goof wasn’t helping at all. Or trying to help. But with his record of work history (clearly showing that he was born without even one right hand), it was way harder than it already should ever be.
As much as Max appreciated his father efforts, if asked for an honest opinion, he would go as far as to say that sometimes they made things significantly harder. Older Goof was a very kind and caring father, but he was first and foremost a kind and caring person, almost to a fault.
His generosity knew no bounds. And as much as Max held him in high regard, it was clear to see that the Older Goof would not really think his actions through. He tried helping everyone he met, disregarding the consequences. Disregarding what kind of person they were, even. Max would laugh to his friends how he was “a soul too kind for his, and actually Max’s own good”, not committing fully to complaining.
After all, that’s what Max was currently paying for (both literally and figuratively). The hand that his father outstretched to strangers he personally has never even met.
That and mortgage of their house. You would think it would be fully paid by now, but his father didn’t have a head for good deals either.
Max’s job didn’t leave him with much free time. Sure, the hours he was putting were fewer in comparison to his previous work endeavours, but it was still way above the average time a guy his age were working. On the bright side, he didn’t work Sundays, at least not most of them, so he had some leeway to himself. And maybe to his friends, provided they were not too caught up in their own lives.
What his working hours left no time for, was dating. Initially, he assumed it would bug him a whole lot more, but the more he thought about it, the less upset he became. Nowadays, he genuinely felt that he was fine with it just being him and his father forever. A thing he would never outwardly admit to anybody.
Overall, Max was not too dissatisfied with his life; in fact, he would even go as far as to say that this kind of situation was working for them — it seemed peaceful.
It was Friday, when his father returned from another unsuccessful job hunt. The weather was nice, it seemed like another peaceful evening.
Max stood in the kitchen, rummaging through their fridge, looking for edible food. They had last gone grocery shopping the previous Saturday, so there wasn’t much left inside. The lack of options making him wrinkle his face. Quite stupidly, because it was a usual situation for him. After a bit more searching, he finally decided that dried bread with leftover ham was just fine.
That's when the door to their house opened with a small creak, the light from the setting sun blinding Max a little.
“Hey Maxie” His father’s voice vibrated through the house, making it to Max’s ears. It didn’t sound particularly unusual, so Max just left his station, smile on his face, and turned around to look at his father. Much to his dismay, the sun didn’t let him see his full silhouette.
“Hey Dad. How’s your day’s been?” Even though Max still couldn’t quite catch the glimpse of his father, the shudder that his father made at the question was clearly distinguishable. The Older Goof finally closed the door behind him, finally letting Max’s eyes relax.
The Older Goof appeared visibly dejected, his brows scrunched. This itself wasn’t a particularly bad sign, Max has grown accustomed to his dad’s eyes being sadder lately, not that he was happy about it. Sure, there were still good days, but he could forget about seeing the same spark.
Most of the other people (not that there was a lot, him and his father didn’t have a big social group) still might have not seen that change, but it was painfully obvious to Max, who spent so much time with him. He tried to overlook it, just for his own mental peace, but it was not really possible.
“I see. It’s better not to ask today?” Max asked, not really expecting the answer, ready to leave it as it is. He quickly turned back to the kitchen counter, busying himself with preparing a ‘nutritious’ meal. He expected for his father to quietly walk away and occupy himself with household chores. However, even after some time had passed, the Older Goof was still standing behind him.
“Maxie.” Goofy spoke in the soft half-whisper voice. The grimace was still not leaving his face.
“Yes Dad?” Max was placing the last sandwich into the container.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave your old man?”
Hearing that, Max turned away from the food and put all his attention back on his father.
They had this conversation many times, usually after his dad had an awful day job hunting. Max knew why he was saying that, it didn’t make it any more pleasant, nevertheless.
“Dad, no, we’re not having this conversation again. We’ve already been through this, and you know my answer.” He tried to make his eyes as soft as possible, but this was never an easy exchange to have.
“I know, but …” His father stared at him with a pleading look, making Max’s emotions waver a little.
“No matter what you think, I’m doing okay, dad.” Max looked gently at his father, but the twinge of irritation could be heard in his voice. “It’s not pitch perfect, but we are doing fine.” Max said that with utmost faith in his words, but when he saw the Older Goof fidgeting with his hands, he became less sure of his own words. He could see clearly that something was eating his father up. “Hey, we are doing fine, right?” Max hoped they did.
His father didn’t say anything, but he took a few breaths and scrunched his eyebrows even more. Then he put his hand in the pocket, taking out an envelope with a dejected look.
The envelope was small, stamped at the front. Priority. It was half opened, a little rough on one edge, but not fully, just enough to take out the contents. Not without creasing it.
Max looked at it and then at his father, not sure what he was supposed to expect. His father, still uneasy, just nudged him to inspect it more with his stare.
And so, Max did. The letter was clearly addressed to his father, his full name and address stated on the front. But an additional recipient was staring back at Max. The letters in which they were written were no different from the one’s in which his father’s name was stated in, but Max could feel himself getting nauseous just peering at them.
His mother’s name right there before his eyes.
The letters his dad got, were usually only addressed to him, lacking the second person. But as uneasy as seeing his mother’s name was making him, this itself wasn’t a reason to be concerned. After all, according to the law, they were still married. It didn’t matter if they knew where his mother was or not, or what she was doing. Or even who she was really. Which Max, honestly, didn’t know.
Max has not seen his mother in … actually he was no longer sure he had ever seen her. The last time anyone had even mentioned her was probably at Christmas holidays five years ago.
His grandma — bless her heart, so she can have a peaceful rest. Anyway, his grandma had been trying to make an example of the Big Goof in front of their family. She was making sure to list all the small ways he failed in her eyes. Max, growing increasingly angry, tried to defend his father, fully aware that nothing he said would stop her tirade. But he took a small, bitter satisfaction in knowing that he still had ways to get under her skin. Not very nice for a grandson, but in Max’s defence, she wasn’t a really nice woman.
They would be bickering for a while now, but Max made a comment that seamed to hit a nerve. That's when she turned to face him and with utmost disgust stated.
“You wouldn’t know what a good man is.” She spat. “Just like your mother, looking at him with those same deluded eyes.”
Max was not ready to hear that, so the comment shut him up, much to his grandmas evident satisfaction. He looked around, expecting someone to react (stupidly, as he thought of it now), but everyone except him just glossed over the remark. To no one’s surprise, his grandma went right back to ensuring his father wouldn't walk away from there without at least a few more things to feel bad about.
Looking back, the truth was, no one in their family was particularly fond of Max or his father. And almost definitely not of his mother, to the point of usually even avoiding any mention of her existence. Not that Max was particularly fond of her, either. He didn't really know much about her, after all.
Now, in the present, Max stared dreadfully at the half-opened letter. From the look his father was giving him, it definitely was not a letter congratulating either of them for their achievements. Still, Max hoped it was not as bad as it seemed to be.
While taking the paper out of the envelope, Max severed it a little. It didn’t seem like a good sign, that thought, making him frown.
His eyes scanned the page, and then his heart sank when he saw it: years of unpaid taxed and penalties. The list going on forever. He thought their own list was already long enough, but reading the final sum, made Max’s head spin. It really seemed like his mother never went easy on life.
The more he read it, the clearer the reality become —this debt was now his father’s, and by extension, his burden to bear. That’s what she was leaving him.
Max crumpled the paper in his hands. Years of no messages, not even to let them know she was still alive, and now this. It was so infuriating. Tears were starting to show in his eyes, but Max was not ready to fully welcome them yet.
“How can she do this to you? To us? Does she even remember us? Does she know we’re still alive? Does she even care?” Max started aimlessly bombarding his father with questions, fully aware that his father almost certainly didn’t know the answers to them. But Max’s thought were too chaotic right now for him to care. “We were doing so well. It’s not fucking fair.” His voice was breaking.
“I… I don’t know, Maxie.” Goofy started, his voice sombre. “Your ma, she…” Max’s father looked around the room, searching for the right words. They stayed like that for a while, Max shaking lightly and his father staring at nothing, both waiting for Goofy to finish his thought. “She has not always thought about what she was doing.” The Older Goof finally said, then laughed quietly, throwing Max off the track. “You know, when we first met, she took this big spontaneous trip. She disappeared for three weeks, to ‘find herself’. And then came back with the biggest and prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.” This conversation was making Max more and more nauseous than he already was. “Never crossed her mind how worried everyone was.”
This was not an explanation Max was waiting for. This was not an explanation at all. In his rational part of a brain, Max knew that his father would not have any better answer than this. But there was still a less rational part, that was just angry.
“Dad that does not matter!” Max screamed through tears, but then quickly tried to collect himself as best as he can after seeing his father’s jumpy reaction. “Well, why wouldn’t she reach out? I don’t know, ask for help like a normal person does? Ask if we’ve been struggling? Instead of just…” Max’s voice was mostly just trembling at this point, the paper in his hand completely crumpled. “Just making things worse?”
Silence fell upon them, for a short while at least. Or maybe longer. Max wasn’t sure, his world was shaking with his body. His vision blurry.
“Maxie… there is no need for you to struggle like that. I will be fine of my own.” His father spoke, placing a hand on his shoulder, which did make the shaking slow down. The words didn’t hit at first, but when they did, they just made Max furious.
“No, Dad, you won’t. We both know you won’t. You will die without my help.” The venom in Max’s words could be heard, even thought the voice was still shaky. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air.
His father scrunched his eyes, clearly hurt by his son words. Max immediately regretted the sharpness of his tone. He took deep breath, trying to calm himself down further.
He hated seeing his father look so defeated, especially when he remembered Goofy as this big optimist, the one that always looked at the bright side of any situation. Now, Goofy seemed so much smaller, so much meeker, eaten away by troubles and self-doubt. There was no need for Max to make the situation worse.
“I’m sorry for getting angry, Dad. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Max said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. At that, Goofy’s eyes relaxed slightly. “And sure it’s not fair for me” Max continued, his voice steadier now as he unfolded the crumpled letter and scanned it again. “but it’s not fair for you either.” Max took a second to get to the point. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that there is no reason to try to understand her reasons or to beat yourself over actions, that were not your own. We will get through it, together, okay?”
Goofy stood there, looking at his son with a mix of emotions. He still visibly has not got over the sharp word, but nodded slowly as to accept the apology. He seemed to think Max’s words through, trying to find for himself if he agrees with them or not. To Max’s relief, after some time, his father’s expression became soft. For the first time that day, actually.
“Thanks, Maxie.” A small smile tugged at his lips.