Silly Things

Melancholy

Chapter 8

It had been only several minutes since his son had caught up with him, with Tai in tow.

Tingling with relief and slightly faint, Robert had returned to his office and flopped heavily into his chair. The boys had gone into the bathroom together, apparently to clean Tai up. He'd looked bad indeed when he returned from the roof, though he politely apologized for scaring them.

With a sigh of resignation, Robert plucked a bottle of cognac from his bureau and poured himself a glass. The damn thing had been festering in his drawer since he'd received it at Mike's baby-shower. After the stress of today—and especially after the near-heart attack Tai had given him—Robert felt he could use something, even something that tasted like the offspring of vodka and old socks.

He'd 'treated' himself to about three glasses before there was a knock on the door.

"Come in." He straightened up in the leather chair, and was struck by an intense, unnatural dizziness. He'd had maybe ten beers in ten years, as football and books were his vices. Three shots of the cognac and he already felt like his head had been replaced by a spinning top.

The door was opened only after he responded, which was a bit different to normal. The two kits walked in slowly, with Tai being supported by Mike. It didn't seem necessary, though Tai did look like he'd gone through a marathon and a half.

"Dad, can we talk to you?" Mike spoke first. He looked exhausted himself. "About what happened?"

With a sigh, Robert checked his computer clock. "It's three in the morning. Are you sure you want to get started now?" He'd promised Tai that he'd explain, and he would, but it was getting absurdly late. He doubted either of the kits had been awake this late before. Surely they were too tired.

Tai nodded. "Please."

There was a long pause. Robert swallowed, and regretted it. The alcohol burned the back of his throat and the taste of the gag-inducing substance had lingered for minutes after he imbibed it. Finally he nodded and stood.

"Alright." He cracked his neck and pushed his chair back in. "I think I need a coffee. A real one."

Mike cocked his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, let's go for a drive."

"Now?"

"I'd rather not discuss anything here." Robert frowned and looked from one kit to the next. "Do you think you can stay awake for much longer?"

"I think we can," replied Mike, "and if not, you could always let us have a coffee too."

"Not likely, mister. Let's go." Robert took a step forwards and swayed on his paws. "Whoa. Um, j-just give me a minute, okay guys?"

They didn't drive that far away really. Robert didn't think he was drunk, but he didn't want to risk it. They just drove to a small diner that was still open for some baffling reason; a little eatery on the corner of a major road, surrounded by a lot more activity than the late hour suggested. According to Mike, they were a few blocks away from a place called "Time Square" or something. According to Mike, it was a major landmark.

Robert ordered a coffee, resolutely ignoring the curious expressions of the staff as they wondered why on earth a fox had brought his two sons with him to a diner at half three in the morning.

When Robert asked the boys what they wanted, if anything, Tai at least realized just how starving he was. He'd gone long without eating before, but today, after the vomiting and stress, he needed to eat. He wasn't just tired, he was faint and exhausted.