It took three days for the storm inside Judith to settle into a cold, hardened resolve. The shouting had stopped, replaced by a suffocating silence that finally broke as she drove Jake down the Pacific Coast Highway toward Charlie's Malibu beach house.
"You know, I'll be gone for just a couple of days. We're just gonna..." Judith started, her grip on the steering wheel tight.
"It's okay, Mom. Statistically, half of all marriages end in divorce," Jake said smoothly, offering the fact in a mild attempt to make her feel better.
"Nobody talked about divorce, honey. But... thanks for the support," Judith sighed. She was used to her son's sometimes blunt yet strangely emotionally aware observations.
As they pulled into the driveway, Alan was already waiting by the front door. He looked nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a criminal awaiting a verdict.
"Hey. How have you been?" Alan asked cautiously as Judith stepped out of the car.
"I'm fine," she replied curtly, brushing past him.
They stepped inside the sprawling, sunlit house. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Hey, Jake, why don't you go upstairs and wake up Uncle Charlie?" Alan asked, desperately motioning with his eyes. He needed to be alone with Judith.
"Okay," Jake agreed, deciding to cooperate with his father's futile attempt at reconciliation.
Jake walked up the stairs and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.
A man was sprawled face-down on the mattress, tangled in high-thread-count sheets. Jake paused, prompting Argus.
[Image Search Module Initiated]
Querying isolated internal database... Match found.
Carlos Irwin Estévez (Charlie Sheen).
American actor, leading man in film and television. Recipient of a Golden Globe Award and multiple Primetime Emmy nominations.
Satisfied that the module was functioning perfectly without needing any external connection to the outside world, Jake walked over and shook Charlie's shoulder.
"Mmmmmm," Charlie groaned, slowly peeling one eye open.
"Good morning. Dad told me to wake you up."
"Yeah, just a minute, kid," Charlie rasped, wincing as if the sunlight itself was physically assaulting him. He rubbed his temples, clearly battling a massive hangover.
"Are you alright? Do you want some water?" Jake asked.
"I'm fine. I just drank a little bit too much last night," Charlie muttered, dragging himself out of bed and shuffling toward the mirror to assess the damage.
Jake stood there, waiting patiently for his uncle to get ready.
Downstairs, Alan was entirely clueless, pleading his case to a brick wall.
"Judith, you have no idea how sorry I am. From now on, I will never hide anything from you again. I will let you know exactly what time I'm working, what time I'm on a break. I will make sure to call you. I'll even let you know when I'm going to use the bathroom, you can even—"
"Alan," Judith interrupted, her voice dangerously calm. "I calmed down and realized the boat incident is a minor thing. It's just a drop in the glass."
"Oh! Well, that's great then—"
"Alan, let me finish. It was the drop that made the glass overflow. I don't think this marriage is working anymore."
Alan plummeted from heaven to hell in a fraction of a second. The silence stretched out between them.
"Well," Alan stammered, scrambling for words. "Our marriage isn't perfect, sure. But I think what we need to do is make a list. On one side, we put what you don't like in our marriage, and on the other side, what you do like."
Judith looked at him with hollow eyes. "Alan, when I think of coming home to you, I start crying in my car."
Alan blinked. "Okay... that would probably go on the 'don't' side."
Upstairs, Charlie finally turned away from the mirror. "Alright, I'm ready. Let's go."
"Uncle Charlie?" Jake said, not moving.
"Yes?"
"Your pants." Jake pointed downward. Charlie was standing there in nothing but a bowling shirt and his boxers.
Charlie looked down. "Oh. You're right."
After fully dressing, the two of them walked down the stairs. Alan immediately spotted them, his eyes wide with panic.
"Huh, Charlie, could you and Jake... hmmmh," Alan stammered, jerking his head toward the back door, frantically motioning for them to leave.
"Yeah. Come on, Jake, we'll have breakfast on the deck," Charlie said, catching the hint.
"Sure," Jake replied. He had already eaten, but the [Growth Module] demanded a constant influx of calories to fuel his optimized bone and tissue development. He was always hungry.
As they stepped outside, Alan turned back to Judith. "Please, Judith, I can change!" he begged desperately.
"Oh, please. You are the most rigid, inflexible, obsessive, anal-retentive person I have ever met!" Judith snapped, her annoyance flaring.
"Rigid and inflexible? Don't you think that's a little redundant?" Alan asked.
Out on the deck, Charlie poured a generous splash of alcohol into his orange juice or a "light breakfast," as he called it. The ocean breeze swept over the railing as they looked out at the beach.
"So, your parents are fighting, huh?" Charlie asked, trying to make casual chitchat with the kid.
"Yeah. They're divorcing, they suffer from a fundamental incompatibility of values. Dad is paralyzed by a fear of the unknown, so he obsesses over trivial details and rigid routines to create an illusion of control. Mom, conversely, views his need for control as suffocating. She resents his inability to engage authentically, while he resents her constant dissatisfaction. They are trapped in a cycle where Dad lies to avoid conflict, and Mom uses those lies to justify her emotional detachment." Jake said calmly.
Charlie stared at him, his mouth slightly open. He slowly took another sip of his drink. "Jesus, kid. You sound like my last therapist right before I fired him."
Just then, Alan walked out onto the deck, looking completely defeated.
"Hey sport, your mom wants to say goodbye."
"I'm going," Jake said, slipping past his father and heading inside.
Alan leaned against the railing, rubbing his face. "Listen, he doesn't know what's going on, so let's just keep this to ourselves."
Charlie raised an eyebrow, thinking of the terrifying psychological breakdown he'd just heard. "Oh, yeah. He's clueless," he said dryly. "Why is she saying goodbye to him?"
"Well, she's going to be spending the weekend with her sister... in Las Vegas. So we decided that Jake would stay with me."
"With you?" Charlie asked.
"Well... with us," Alan corrected weakly. "Is this going to be a problem?"
Before Charlie could answer, Jake marched back out onto the deck. "We should go to the supermarket. There's nothing to eat here."
Charlie looked from Alan down to Jake. "I guess not," he sighed.
"Oh, I have to go call my office. Would you mind getting him lunch?" Alan asked, already backing toward the house.
Charlie glared at Alan, then looked at Jake, who simply offered a polite, knowing smile.
"Sure," Charlie muttered, deeply annoyed at suddenly being placed in charge of a highly observant ten-year-old.
Entering the garage, Jake's eyes immediately locked onto the sleek, metallic curves of the car parked inside.
"Whoa. Nice," Jake said, genuinely impressed as he ran a hand over the polished fender. "Jaguar XK8 convertible. What year is it?"
"2001. You like it?" Charlie asked, amused by the kid's reaction.
"Are you kidding? It's beautiful," Jake said.
Charlie smirked. "Well, if you work hard, you might get one once you're an adult."
Jake looked up at him, his face perfectly deadpan. "Do you work hard?"
Charlie's smirk vanished. "We are not talking about me, kid. Get in."