It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

Another Smoke Break (2)

"We should probably stop doing this," Matthew sighed, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He turned to Mr. Yang, who billowed out a breath of smoke. "Smoking."

"You're one to talk," Mr. Yang spoke, turning his glaring brown eyes to him. He drew a slow inhale of his cigar.

Matthew sighed and, flatting the lit end against the wall, dropped it under his foot. Still his stomach did not settle. "Lilly can smell it on us. She and Elliot can't stand it." Glancing down, he ran a hand through his hair and removed a piece of nicotine gum, popping it into his mouth. He offered one to Yang, who shook his head.

He raised his hand, shaking his head. Yang didn't supply an answer as to why.

"Why do you do it?" he asked, chewing the gum slowly before shoving it into his cheek.

"Stress," Yang answered on cue, tapping the cinders from the cigar's end. "You as well?"

Matthew shook his head and, leaning back against the wall, sighed again. "No, I....kind of. It...it takes the edge off life."

Mr. Yang raised his cigar. "I'll toast to that."

Scratching his jaw, Matthew glanced out over the vast emptiness of the forest preserve. "I am serious, though. I feel so bad when Lilly can smell it on me. It's like I've failed her."

"Is this a moment to point out your hypocrisy?" Yang asked.

"Yes, but now's not the time for it."

"Why? You never hold back."

"Sir..." he sighed, wiping his eyes. "I..." Matthew buried his face in his hands. "It's hard."

Mr. Yang sighed, placing his hand on Matthew's shoulder; he patted him once before withdrawing. "You're not her parent," Yang reminded, taking another slow drag of the cigar. A breeze blew it back into the two men's faces.

The smell intoxicated him. Turning away, Matthew rebuffed, "I might not be, but I take care of her as much as one. Her and Eli."

Taking in a slow breath, Mr. Yang turned to the younger man and stares, his gaze softening. "I can't argue with that," he admitted.

Matthew tapped his fingers against the railing. "...why don't you like Eli?"

"You said it yourself," Mr. Yang sighed. "The animosity between us is normal."

He grunted. "Not what I meant."

"You said it yourself."

His lips pressed into a thin line. Matthew brought his knees to his chest. "Why is he here? Where are his parents?"

Mr. Yang turned, taking a slow drag of the cigar before blowing it in Matthew's face. He considered him for a moment before, out of thin air, he said, "Elliot was my sister's child."

His breath froze. He glanced away a moment later. "...oh."

For a split second, this pained look crossed the man's face; Mr. Yang turned away, taking another inhale of the cigar. "He was seven when he came; Lilliana was barely two." His fingers trailed the threading of his pants, sighing a moment later. "We had just moved in, things were...okay. A mess, but okay." Mr. Yang swallowed. "I think he knows his parents are dead, and that's why he...talks about all those gods, learns spells and whatnot."

Matthew sighed, the lack of breath making his head spin.

"So please excuse me, Mr. Robinson," he continued, his sunken brown eyes glaring, "if I do not have the time, nor the energy, to understand him. For that, and several other reasons, I recommend we move the conversation along, because I am not interested in having this one anymore."

He bit his cheek, a snide remark hinging on the tip of his tongue.

Mr. Yang drew in another inhale of his cigar, blowing the smoke into Matt's face again. "You should go to bed, Mr. Robinson. This probably isn't the best for your convalescence."

Scoffing, Matthew ground the gum between his teeth. "Yeah, fuck that."

"Such hypocrisy tonight."

"Sir, please. If we're not talking about your fucked-uppedness with Elliot, don't talk to me about being hypocritical because I already know."

Mr. Yang glared down the end of his cigar.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Take heart in knowing there's nothing I absolutely love more than not having something to work towards."

Yang sighed. "I don't need to re-remind you that your job isn't in jeopardy."

"What difference does that make?" he asked. "If I don't have something to work on, I might as well not have a life."

Yang nodded his head. "Oh," he started, stretching his legs out in front of him, "to not feel like that."

Matthew pressed his fingers to his nose, trying to pull back the welling tears of disappointment in himself. "I am trying, sir, you must know that."

"I believe only what I see," Yang replied, taking a drag of his cigar, "and you have not."

"Sir, I – "

"I believe I told you that you were to not do your job until you were better."

"I-I know, but – "

"Yet Lilliana has caught you cleaning, doing dishes. Audrey, as well."

Something pained in him.

"Do you think I'm a joke?"

"No, but – "

"I realize it is difficult to step back from your job, but Matthew, you need to understand that you will burn out if you do not stop."

His skin prickled. He sank against the carport wall, arms crossed over his chest.