<span style="font-size: 15px">Chris was extremely appreciative of everything that Finn had done. He was such a genuinely kind person that it just made him hope that there were more people like him out there because the world really didn't need anymore people like him and Edith. He accepted the bag full of tupperware. The man packed them food, even extra food for Edith. He didn't even invalidate him, that was a new one entirely. He thanked him, again, and then again at the door. He was sure that it may seem like too much, maybe even desperate, but really, when had someone done something like this for Brock, and by extension him? He hardly got to see Brock as it was and he was missing him and he felt horrible about it but what else could he do? <br/>
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He buckled Brock into the back seat like before and set the food on the floor beside him. If Brock kept it from spilling, although he doubted it would be in danger of that, he'd give him another dollar, which was enough for him to probably start a collection. There were lots of dollars scattered around Brock's room, they were in some of the oddest places, like he was hiding them all over but then forgetting where he hid them so finding the next creative place to put it. Brock would have gotten two dollars that day, that wasn't too shabby for a seven year old who had at least thirty dollars in ones in his room. <br/>
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When he got home he was reluctant to leave the car, but Brock started to move so he got out of the car and pulled him up, trading him a dollar bill for the bag of neatly packed food. Brock ran forward and bust through the door and ran straight to his room, waving around his two dollars. He still had some change left, so he'd find a jar to put it in or something. Penny savers were always the rich people who didn't let lose even the smallest amount of money. Like dragons hiding a horde. He set the food down on the kitchen table and set the three containers out before he moved to find Edith. Brock ran into the room and he told him to go ahead and eat while he went to get him mother. He knocked on the door to her bedroom. She opened the door later with a rough jerk, letting out a huff before letting it creak open, walking towards her bed in the process. He took a few steps into the room. <br/>
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"Food's here," he said. <br/>
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"I'm not hungry anymore." <br/>
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"Alright, I'll put it in the fridge so you can have it later. It smells really good. You sure you don't wanna try it?" <br/>
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"I'm positive." She crossed her arms and he walked to the door frame. <br/>
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"Be careful, your face'll get stuck like that." <br/>
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"I'm not a child," she tilted her head back and he raised an eyebrow at her clearly spoiled behaviour. <br/>
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"Then stop acting like one." He left the room before she could yell at him and shut the door too. She didn't come out of her room until after Brock had finished his reading and was cuddled up under his covers, his left foot easily poking out from the bottom as he almost immediately fell asleep. Well, it really had been a long day for him, huh? Then again, he hadn't gotten much rest the night before either, so it made sense. He slowly closed the door, creeping back, small footsteps and manually turning the doorknob back into place rather than letting it shut itself to keep the volume down. He went to the kitchen and found Edith with a cup of tea. <br/>
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"It's been over seven years," she said. He nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Please, just give me a reason. Anything. I don't want to fight you, if I'm being honest, I think a divorce is what we need. We weren't meant to be together, Chris. Too much history, bad history coloured by our youth. This was a mistake." <br/>
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"It's what I was supposed to do." He said, barely whispering. She looked up at him. <br/>
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"What did you say?" <br/>
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"I said that it was what I was supposed to do. What was expected, so I did it. I wanted Brock to have a good childhood with good parents and I didn't trust anyone more than you, so why wouldn't I marry you? I'm just not... attracted to you, not really. I mean, I love you, don't get me wrong, but I'm not, well, I don't want to be in a romantic relationship." <br/>
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"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" <br/>
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"Uh," he started. What did he mean by that? Could he break it down more than that? It was pretty basic in his opinion, so how could he simplify it when it was already so <i>easy</i>? "Well, I don't like having sex with you. I think you should get someone that you like and do it with him. I just want your support, and I want to support you. I love you, I do, I'm just not romantically in love, you know? You were my best friend, you were the only person I trusted, of course you're the only person I would ever consider marrying and since I needed to do all those things, you were perfect. You <i>are </i>perfect." He got a face full of thankfully lukewarm tea. He honestly didn't know what he had said wrong, but maybe he was really as bad at socializing as he had been told. Then again, maybe she was just a crazy bitch and nobody knew how to handle that sort of behaviour. <br/>
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"I am <i>not</i> an obligation." <br/>
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"Of course not. You're Edith, my best friend since I was ten, you're also the mother of our child, the best kid on the entire planet. I go to work, I earn money so you and Brock can be comfortable and I don't know why you're so upset when I suggest you go and do what you want. It's not because I don't care, but because I know that I can't give you what you want, so we're married but we could still just be friends. Does that make any sense?" <br/>
<br/>
He woke up early in the morning with multiple texts, and none of them were all that good. He didn't reply to any of them. There was stuff he just didn't want to deal with. He woke Brock up, made him a poptart because that's what he had, packed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some trail mix into his lunch box and put it in his backpack, and with a poptart in Brock's hand and a thermos of coffee in his own, he loaded Brock up into the car and made sure he was buckled in before he pulled out to take him to school. <br/>
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"Why are you taking me to school today? Why was mom's car gone? Is she coming back?" <br/>
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"I'm taking you to school today because your mom is busy. She'll be back, don't worry. I got a text actually, she'll be there to pick you up today, so I won't see you again until later tonight." He pulled up to the school area where the children were meant to be dropped off and picked up. "I love you." <br/>
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"Love you too," Brock unbuckled himself and grabbed his backpack before walking up to the gates and walked towards the playground. He smiled. He needed to figure out how he could explain everything happening between him and his mom but he didn't really understand it all himself if he was being honest. Was he offending her by telling her to satisfy her desires? Wouldn't most people want that sort of thing? That's why affairs existed, because people wanted more, and he didn't even want to make her hide it, as long as Brock didn't get exposed to a bunch of random people, he was fine with her doing whatever she wanted to be satisfied. <br/>
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He went to work and got a text halfway through a referral for an order of protection for another DV victim. Edith reminded him that she was picking Brock up and that she would take him to school the next day. He didn't know why that was important since he was late, yes, but not too late. he worked more hours than he had to as it was, he could be a little late if she wanted to do whatever it is she wanted to do. He went back to work, trying to not think on it, but whenever he thought of someone taking care of Brock with him, there was an issue because it was Edith. It wasn't anyone it should be, it was the opposite of who he should be thinking about. Finn Taylor. He was perfect. He listened, he was kind, and Brock seemed to adore him, and Chris liked him too, he was a nice guy, did more for him in a day than most people did for his entire life. That was pretty pathetic when he phrased it that way, but it was true. He was accident, he wasn't always hated, but he couldn't remember being loved, being cared for, and the memories of being protected were few and far between. <br/>
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<br/>
Edith had left that night after she shouted a bit more. She needed to cool off. She didn't want to live the life she was forced to live. It was picture perfect, it was irritating, she was practically in a chastity belt, and she just wanted Chris to love her again because she had always loved him. She didn't know what was wrong with her, but beside he lack of desire, she wasn't meant to raise a kid, she never want a kid, Chris wanted one and so she gave him one it was that simple. She loved Brock, but he was a lot of responsibility and she was so glad to be out of the shitty neighbourhood they grew up together in. To be out of the houses that were meth labs or being eaten away by foot long fats and six inch cockroaches. She just wanted a nice life, and at first, Chris gave her one, but now she was left wanting. <br/>
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But like she said, she went to pick Brock up from school, and she parked to go get him from where he was waiting. She didn't know what to do, but she needed to either make a clean cut, or it would tear Brock up more if he got anymore attached. It had been seven years, and it had been over half a year of arguments and being rejected by the man who was supposed to appreciate her and love her and she was done. She couldn't do it, and she may have threatened to take Brock away, but she didn't want custody of the kid. What would she do with one of those? She had contacted a guy from the neighbourhood, back when they were kids. He still lived in the same shitty house, the one next door to her own childhood home and across the street from the abandoned hovel, heroin den that used to be Chris' house. She was thinking about filing divorce papers and being done with it, live with him where she belonged, with the people she was used to living around. She wasn't cut out to be a PTA mom with stupid bake sales and boring soccer games, she wanted to be free, have fun, and she had already spent so much time trying to be someone she wasn't that she was worried that she had already lost her window of time to have a great life. Her window of youth had shut, but she could do something. <br/>
<br/>
She wasn't drunk, but she had a headache from after she left the house and her sunglasses were there for a reason. She'd never drive drunk, of course not, but she wasn't drunk, she had been drunk yesterday and would be fine in a few hours. Also, she needed to tell Brock what was happening because clean cut, she needed to tell him something, a reason why her things were packed in the high end luxury suitcases that Chris had bought her one year when she wanted them to go to Spain and then cancelled because Brock had gotten a horrible stomach flu which took a round on everyone in the house making for one miserable week and a half. </span>