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Chip’s face burned red hot sitting in that ice-cold jail cell. He couldn’t help but keep his eyes pinned on Keys and the Smalton sheriff. They talked and talked about him, making his blood boil.
“You’re gonna need to be careful with him, sir,” Keys chuckled, trying to release some tension among the rest of the officers and guards in the room. “He’s a handful. That’s for sure. Attempted murder’s already a bit of a red flag, but faking your death to continue stalking said family you tried to murder? Yeah, that’s when you gotta watch him carefully. He can sneak out of your sight pretty easily if you let him.”
“We’ll keep that in mind, Officer Keys, and thank you for helping us out with him so far.”
“Oh! It’s no problem! I’m just sorry you guys are the ones who’ll have to deal with him. Can’t exactly keep a banned citizen in the city he was banned from, even if he’s locked up, y’know?”
The sheriff nodded. “Mhm. Don’t you worry about it, Keys. We’ll make sure he does his time–”
“Um, sheriff?” An officer interrupted, walking into the room. “There’s someone here. Says he’s Whistler’s father. Wants to talk to him.”
Chip’s face paled, the anger leaving his body and was replaced with a feeling he couldn’t describe.
Keys and the sheriff shared a knowing look. How cruel would it be to let a grieving man not see his dead son just one final time?
“Alright, let ‘im in. Everyone except the guards, heads out. Give them some privacy.”
Everyone nodded at the orders and left.
Chip’s heart rate picked up, his eyes locked onto the door. The officer led his father inside and shut it behind her.
Mr. Whistler's face softened in deep sadness, looking upon his son he hadn’t seen in so, so long. His son who was supposed to be buried in the same cemetery as his mother.
“Chip,” he sighed. Tiredly.
“Daddy,” Chip whispered just under his breath. He could barely breathe.
Mr. Whistler walked over to the bars as Chip did as well, and he cupped Chip’s face through the jail bars. Tears streaming down his exhausted face.
Tears began to stream down Chip’s face too. The pain he’d put him through… He wanted to take it back.
“Please, let me come back with you.”
“You can’t come back… They won’t let you.”
Chip whispered to him. “What am I supposed to do then?”
“I… I don’t know… I don’t know if I can bail you out or not.”
Mr. Whistler paused, looking off to the side, and then screwing his eyes shut. “If I can, though. Our old house. The one in Smalton. It’s still there. I couldn’t bring myself to sell it after your mama died… You can live there.”
Chip didn’t utter a word as his father gently pulled his head toward him and pressed a kiss onto the top of his head.
“Please, don’t do anything like what you did before. If I can get you out, just, please… try and live a good life.”
Chip didn’t promise anything.
—
Chip inhaled deeply, the air of that small one-story house filling his lungs. It still smelt like he remembered it too, minus the dust, of course. He tugged at the hoodie strings on the jacket his dad had given him and looked back at the front entrance.
“I can help you unpack, but after that, I can’t do much,” Mr. Whistler said while he leaned against the doorframe.
Chip felt so helpless. He couldn’t understand why. He’d made it on his own before with his fake identity. This time felt different though. He would be alone, his determination was slowly leaving him as the days went by, and he had to experience the stinging disapproval and disappointment of his father.
“I’m sorry,” Chip said, looking at him directly in his eyes.
Mr. Whistler sighed. “I know you are… And I’m sorry for not raising you as I should have.”
Ouch.
Chip looked back at the house. The open kitchen and living room on the left, and the small hallway on the right, lead to two small bedrooms and a bathroom. It was exactly like he remembered it layout-wise too.
“Can you help me get started on the bedroom?”
Mr. Whistler nodded, walking over to him and picking up one of his suitcases that he was holding. They both made their way to one of the bedrooms and uncomfortable silence between them.
After dusting off the wardrobe left in the bedroom, the two began folding clothes that Chip was ashamed he didn’t fold before packing. He’d thrown most in there in fits of rage when they’d returned to his apartment in the city so he could get his necessities.
Sometime during the monotonous process, Chip came across a question he hadn’t yet answered for himself.
“What will I do for work? I don’t know anything around here anymore.”
Mr. Whistler looked at him. There was some truth to that statement. Neither of them had been here much at all since they moved around 20 years ago. A lot of the places had changed. Old stores are gone, and new ones are put in their places.
One place that did still exist, and they knew it still existed because they drove past it on the way here, was Patti’s Diner.
The only problem was that Chip would fight tooth and nail to not work there. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, but it was because she never let him get away with acting like a fool when he was younger. With her being a family friend, and over quite often, she’d tell him ‘no’ more than his parents did, and yeah… that was mainly Mr. Whistler’s own fault.
But, shoot, it was the only place Mr. Whistler knew that Chip could work and wouldn’t cause havoc because Patti wasn’t going to let him.
“Chip… son, you’re going to kill me when I suggest this…”
—
“Huh, well would you look who it is?” Patti said as Chip walked into the empty diner on a chilly Sunday afternoon. “You’re lucky Lewis talked me into this, y’know?”
Chip nodded silently. “I know. You probably wouldn’t have even let me in here if he didn’t.”
“Now, I don’t know about that. As much as I’m not gonna put up with whatever mess you’ve been doing since that crash, I can’t lie, you’re amusing enough sometimes that I’d probably let you in here anyway.”
Chip’s face burned red in frustration and embarrassment as he looked to the side. She motioned for him to sit down at the bar.
“Seriously, though, you’re very, very lucky that I believe in second chances. Though, I guess in your case, that’ll be your umpteenth chance.”
Chip watched as she looked over his résumé, job history, and criminal record.
“Y’know, I wasn’t surprised that your daddy had bailed you out. He’s exactly the same man I remember him being when y’all lived here.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means, Chip,” Patti began. “Your father’s a good man, but he let you get away with too many things.”
They both stared at each other for a few seconds in silence, acknowledging the truth. Patti sighed.
“But like I said before, I believe in second chances. Not many people here’ll give you one because there’s been plenty of news and stories passed around about your past. I’m willing to let you try and get your footing right this time.”
Chip didn’t say anything.
“I want to see you improve, I genuinely do. You’ve got your mama’s fiery personality, attitude, and anger issues, but she was able to direct it in ways… other than trying to murder an entire family. So we’re going to try and be like her and throw out all of the attitude and all of the violence when you come into work tomorrow. She was professional and respectful when she needed to be, so be like her. Got it?”
How interesting it was that the woman who acts too much like his mama is telling him to act like her.
“Yes ma’am.”
—
Chip pounded his fist against the edge of the kitchen sink once he got home.
“Who does she think she is?! Talking to me like that? Does she know who I am?”
Of course, she does. She knew him since he was only a few feet tall, and that made it 100x worse.
Things were going fine just before. Sure, faking your identity, living a boring life, and lurking around the sewers plotting against a family wasn’t… that great, but at least he had some purpose to his life. Some kind of passion to focus on. Some kind of goal.
Chip sighed, hands gripping the edge of the kitchen sink as he tried to let the anger leave his body. He’d begun to accept that his life had been on a not-so-great route since that night, ‘The Chipacolypse’ as news sources loved to call it. Seriously, he could roll his eyes at the sheer audacity.
He realized at some point while sitting in that jail cell, not even an hour after getting caught tampering with that escape room, that he’d lost. He lost the game… There wasn’t a reality where he came out on top. That was something he didn’t want to accept, and admittedly didn’t for the last week since he’d been in Smalton, but once it settled in as the truth one night while he was tossing and turning in bed, it was an undeniable fact to him. He lost all motivation. He would’ve snuck his way back into Big City if that realization hadn’t hit him, but it did, and it hit him harder than he wanted it to.
After that, he decided to focus, genuinely this time, on what his dad told him before he got bailed out. Don’t do the mess he did previously, and try and live a good life, but what’s better than getting revenge on the people you hate? Screwing up other people’s lives for your own benefit? Coming out on top?
“This, apparently,” Chip said aloud as his shoulders finally relaxed. Or, at least, this is what everyone else said was better than those things. This is what Dad said was better. Getting a job, earning your living, making healthy connections. Just trying to live an honest life.
But this wasn’t honest. Not for him at least. Living a life where he isn’t spending his time plotting against the Greens isn’t an honest reflection of what he truly wants. Who he truly is.
Chip sighed and made his way to his bedroom. He laid down and wrapped himself up with a comforter.
It wasn’t nearly nighttime yet, but he’d better get some sleep if he was going to waste his energy on being nice to customers tomorrow. Sleeping from Sunday evening to Monday morning didn’t sound too bad actually. It wasn’t like it was the first time he hadn’t slept for longer than needed.