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Chloe’s heard the story from her mom and even a little from Frank but it’s a different feeling entirely when they finally pull up behind Two Whales and see the damage.
It’s Thursday morning and Chloe is on a supply run for canned food to bring back up to the temporary shelter at Blackwell. Not that they’re going hungry up there or anything; FEMA is serving two hot meals a day but it doesn’t hurt to have more, something more varied than chicken and rice. Chloe knows it’s just busy work, something to keep her feet moving, hands working and head not thinking about why they’re in this mess in the first place.
Parking up on the sidewalk she cuts the ignition. This may be the first time she isn’t ticketed for a poor parking job. Knowing her luck, though, she wouldn’t be all that surprised to see a yellow slip put under her windshield wipers declaring her to have “double parked between fallen lamppost and upturned train.” An irritated huff escapes her lips that draws the attention of her passenger. Max peers at her with an uncertain expression, slowly snaking her hand into Chloe's. Smiling and shaking her head a little, Chloe squeezes back.
“It’s nothing. Come on, let's see what we can rustle up.”
Their hand reconnect once they’ve made their way out of the truck. It's been like this since they held on to each while the storm rolled in last Friday and sometimes Chloe feels like they never actually let go. But it’s not like she’s one to turn away an opportunity to hold Max, now more than ever. She thinks it keeps them both grounded, a reminder of how connected they are even if only in a physical sense.
The front entrance is a total no go. Frank's RV as well a goddamn boat are buried into the side of the diner.
“Let’s try 'round back.” Chloe suggests and gently tugs Max along.
Max has understandably become pretty quiet lately so Chloe’s has been doing most of the talking for them. No one round the shelter seems to notice, everyone is in shock really, and who can tell one haunted look from another when everyone's wearing the same tired face.
There are some overturned cars and other general debris around the back entrance but it’s still mostly clear. As Chloe moves toward the door her hand gets a tug. Max is rooted to the spot and eyeing the door with apprehension.
“Do you wanna wait out here? Be my lookout in case something comes along?” What that something would be, Chloe has no idea. But she knows when Max is starting to spook and giving her a job to occupy her mind, even an unnecessary one, is better than letting her bolt and retreat back into herself.
Max nods slowly and turns her body away from the diner. Chloe isn’t sure it was the best choice now that Max is staring out at the destroyed landscape but they don’t have luxury of do-overs anymore.
The backdoor sticks shut but after a kick and a quick bump of her shoulder it swings open once more. Stepping inside Chloe can still catch the faint scent of grease and strong morning coffee. Not even the rain water and rising seas could wash years of that away.
Just as Max had told her the storeroom is full of untouched cans waiting to be cooked up for another morning rush that won’t come, not here at least. But there are plenty up at Blackwell who’d wolf down some kidney beans and canned peaches, though hopefully not together. Chloe twists her face at the thought. Gross.
There are a few stacking crates around so Chloe makes quick work filling them up and loading them into the back of her truck. Max comes to her aid after she nearly drops an over-packed crate right on her foot. She never did go so far as buying steel cap boots when she’d started swapping frumpy tourist sweatshirts for band tees and skull tanks. Thankfully she doesn’t regret this as she and Max push the final crate along the bed of her trunk.
“I’m going to have a poke around and see if there’s anything I missed. You still good out here?” Chloe reaches to squeeze Max's shoulder.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Max gives a nod then hops up onto the lip of the trunk, feet dangling as she looks out to the sea.
Satisfied enough with her answer Chloe heads towards the door again. Back inside Chloe makes her way around the bar counter. It always felt odd to be on this side, in her mother’s domain as it were.
Three photographs are still pinned under the counter, all of them featuring herself. She doesn’t remember when the photo on the swing happened and she honestly wants to forget about the poor excuse for a ‘family’ picture with David and Joyce. She remembers the skateboarding one though. Max took it and showed her it weeks later when the film had been developed. Her dad had been so impressed he’s declared it worthy of the a spot on the family picture pinboard.
Chloe plucks the photos from the counter and tucks them into her front jacket pocket. She doesn’t need this mushy stuff but Joyce will glad to have them back, she’s sure. Yeah, Joyce would want them.
The pastry display is still stocked with treats and Chloe picks out a donut, thinking better to eat it now than have it go to waste. On her first bite she finds it stale but she’s committed to eating it all so she keeps chewing regardless. Staring blankly out of the blown-out windows Chloe considers what to do next, and not just in the “next couple of hours” sort of way, but more in the next stage of life for her. Hers and Max’s life.
They’ve stayed this long out of a sense of obligation, like they had to own up for something they did. As if they ever wanted this storm to come in the first place. They’ve been helping where they can but there’s so much planning and coordination happening between local authorities that’s simply out of their control. And for good reason, she supposes. Last week felt like they could take on the world and make it bow. This week Chloe just feels like a teenager again, caught between being a kid and an adult with not much direction on what to do next.
Chloe’s made no secret about wanting to get out of Arcadia Bay for years now. Some of the out-of-state Blackwell students have already started heading back home, either packed into one of the cars that wasn’t thrown into some poor bastard's living room or picked up by frazzled parents who’d driven through the night to find them.
The crazy part is, suddenly Chloe has options. Options for where they can go and not just in the free spirit, the road is my home sense. She has tangible offers of places to stay from family that hadn’t given her much thought until Arcadia Bay was making headlines on the six o’clock news.
It’s what lead to a surreal conversation over the phone with her uncle Aaron last Tuesday. He’d been calling around everywhere until he managed to get a hold of Joyce, who’d in turn passed him over to Chloe after he insisted they speak. Chloe can’t even remember last time she saw him. Probably her dad’s funeral. He’s over in Salt Lake City now with two daughters of his own. She suspects that, and some deep-seated guilt over not staying in touch after everything went to shit with her dad, is why he was so insistent she come visit or even stay if she wanted.
Joyce has mentioned something about David’s parents (her step-grandparents?) offering to put everyone up over in Cloverdale with them. Apparently they’ve “heard a lot about her” which Chloe can’t imagine could be anything good. She can’t even imagine David talking about her to his family at all. Well, maybe she can now. It’s not like the storm made them bury years worths of arguments and resentment it’s just doesn’t seem worth their time anymore.
And then of course there’s the Caulfields. Chloe caught the tail end of Max pleading for her dad not to drive down, insisting that she was fine and would be home soon. Chloe can spot Max lying a mile away, so she’s pretty sure her parents can still see it two hundred and fifty miles away in Seattle. Joyce took over after that and Chloe guesses that at least knowing Max is around what amounts to her second family was enough to put Ryan’s road trip on hold for now.
Chloe’s noticed that Max tends to talk about them as a pair now as well. “I’m fine, so is Chloe.” “We’ll come and visit soon.” “Me and Chloe have to go to the food hall now, I’ll call again tonight.” It twists at her insides and makes her want to reach out for Max, tell her that they are fine and they will go visit. That they’ll do it together because she isn't going to leave her.
So she’s got Salt Lake, Cloverdale and Seattle, that's three. It’s three more places than Chloe ever thought would so easily welcome her.
As she idly pats herself down for a cigarette, forgetting that she smoked her last pack on Monday, Chloe hears a loud clatter echo from outside and a muffled yelp from Max. It’s enough to have her scrambling to the back door.
“Max! Are you - !” Chloe cuts herself short upon seeing Max flat out on the ground feebly trying to cover her face as Pompidou slobbers all over her. She actually giggles as she tries to push him away but the dog only licks her hand in response. An overwhelming sense of relief washes over Chloe, not just because Max is safe but because she’s actually laughing. It’s a sound Chloe didn’t realise she’d been missing until she got it back just now.
“Alright, alright! That’s enough. Get off her, Pompidou.” Unsurprisingly, Frank walks around the corner after Pompidou. The dog returns to his side with a happy bark, tail wagging, clearly proud of finding Max.
Max dusts herself off and moves to stand next to Chloe before addressing him with a simple, “Hi Frank.”
“Hey kid.” Frank offers an equally simply greeting.
“You here for the special Frank? Service is pretty slow going this morning, might be a while on your eggs and beans,” Chloe quips. She’s rewarded with an elbow to the side from Max.
“You are here pretty early.” Max notes.
“Yeah, they didn’t want me coming down here right away after that knock to the head but I was getting sick of waiting around. Plus they keep side eyeing me for sharing food with Pompidou.” He scowls at that and move his hands up to make finger quotes “they’ve got to ‘prioritize the people over the animals’ as if Pompidou is the same as a fucking squirrel or some shit.”
“We’re taking these back up to Blackwell but I’m sure there’s something the old dog could have in here.” Chloe gestures back to her loaded truck.
Frank nods appreciatively but fixes his gaze onto his once home that lays imbedded in the side of Two Whales “I’m gonna check if I can get into my RV first, see what’s left. His dog food is better for him anyway.”
“I think I saw some dog food over at Smiths,” Max adds, pointing to the general store across the road with two-thirds of its upstairs walls missing. You can see the furniture of Timothy Smith's kitchen laid out like a showroom from “Top Apocalyptic Trends this Fall.”
“I’ll come with you.” Chloe jumps in. She’s as edgy about leaving Max alone than as Max is with her.
But Max just shakes her head. “It’s fine. I’ll just be across the road. I’ll take Pompidou, he’ll keep watch this time, right boy?” Max smiles down at him and Chloe is almost jealous until she realises that being jealous of a dog is stupid and lame, even if Pompidou does seems to endear himself to the few people Chloe cares for.
“Alright, but shout if you need anything.”
Max still looks both ways before crossing, holding her hand out to halt Pompidou before deeming the already vacant road safe to travel. The normality of the action grates so sharply against their surroundings that Chloe has to turn away. Squaring her shoulders she looks back at Frank.
“So. Your RV?”
“Yeah. Let’s do this.”
Walking over to survey Frank's former home Chloe starts to feel a wave of nostalgia wash over her. It's been years since she worked alongside Frank. Suddenly she’s seventeen again and he’s buying her beer from Smiths, teaching her to pick locks and blow smoke rings.
“Alright, I’ll give you boost up and you see if you can make it through the hatch on the roof.” Franks explains his plan while eyeing up the boat that’s also practically on top of the RV. Chloe’s brow fumbles as she takes in the details.
“Why don’t we just break the window? This thing’s wrecked anyway, no use in being precious about it.”
“Because I don’t want to climb in with glass all over the floor, smartass,” Frank snarks in reprimand, but his words aren’t as biting as they once were. Not like last week at least. “Now come on, you in?” He interlocks his fingers to create Chloe’s boost.
After a brief struggle, and possibly a boot to the side of Frank's head, Chloe makes it on top of the RV. From up here Chloe can see the whole bay laid out in front of her. The destroyed houses, the damaged lighthouse, the endless sea stretching out into the horizon. Chloe’s spent years getting lost in that horizon, picturing what lay beyond it. Be it pirate adventures or L.A. dreams she’s always been looking for a way out of the bay. She can feel herself getting drawn in again until Frank calls on her. Rolling her eyes at his scowl she reaches down to help pull Frank up.
---
They’re in and out after half an hour. Back inside Two Whales Frank is laying out his whole life across the bar. Between a cracked laptop and dented baseball bat Chloe spots a CD with familiar handwriting scrawled across it.
“Holy shit! You still have this?” Chloe waves the “Frank’s Mix” CD in front of him
“What? Oh right. Yeah.” There’s no point hiding from it from her when it’s right there. She’d made it for him after he’d introduced her to a local tattoo artist over the summer. It had lead to a promise of getting the friend of a friend discount whenever she wanted to get inked herself. She’d probably not have been able to afford her whole sleeve otherwise.
“Yeah well your taste in music wasn’t all that bad, plus I’m pretty sure I introduced you to half the bands on there in the first place. Least you picked up a few good habits from me.”
“Amongst other things.” Chloe idly roles the baseball bat over the bar counter and grins.
“You didn’t need any help picking up the bad ones, Chloe.”
Chloe just grins wider. “Picked up the rad one more like it.”
Frank lets out a long sigh. “You still say the dumbest shit, you know that?”
They fall back into silence as Frank starts arranging some of his belongings into grey duffle bag. Chloe’s eye lands on a small bracelet. Frank catches her eyeline and now they both know what she’s looking at.
“Rachel made us bracelets too,” Chloe blurts out. She regrets it immediately for how pathetic it sounds, she might as well be saying I was special too! So stupid. Frank looks at her through narrowed eyes and Chloe straightens her back. He caught her off guard in the junkyard but if this is where the conversation ends up going she’ll be ready for it.
Just as the tension between them starts to reach choking point a dangling light fixture grows tired of it’s hold and finally falls to the ground with a crash. They both jump. Suddenly they’re reminded of where they are, a torn up diner in the middle of their ruined hometown, and that they quite literally have nothing left to fight about now.
“I didn’t- I didn’t even know you guys were,” Chloe waves her hands to the bracelet in front of her. “A thing. She never, like, talked about you outside of buying and shit.”
Frank clicks his tongue and goes back to arranging his duffle bag “Yeah well, you knew how Rachel was. Always had her different circles, didn’t necessarily need them all overlapping.”
An empty laugh escapes Chloe’s lips. “Girl was like a goddamn chameleon, she could fit in with everyone. Blackwell pricks, Skater boys-”
“No good punks,” Frank adds.
“Dog-loving drug dealers.” Chloe shoots back.
That seems to give Frank pause. He picks up a water logged pill bottle amongst his things and watches the liquid slowly seep out of a crack in the side, half dissolved pills slowly crumbling with the movement. Then, looking frustrated, he throw to bottle to the other side of diner with a quick snap of his wrist. Every bounce echoes around them like an accusation, the kind that Chloe’s been turning over and over every night since they found the bunker under the barn.
Slowly, Franks rubs his hand over his face and his more typical expression of annoyed indifference returns. After a moment he continues.
“Rachel was bigger than all of ‘em. Bigger than this place for sure. I always knew it wouldn’t be me driving her out of Arcadia, I’d been here too long. Even if it was a shit hole from time to time, I had things set up just the way I liked them.”
“Better the devil you know, I guess?” Chloe chimes in, knowing that feeling all too well of hating Arcadia but still wanting to call it home.
“Something like that. Anyway, once Rachel started talking about some roadtrip to L.A. I knew it was only a matter of time.”
Slowly bouncing her leg against the counter Chloe starts to remember those times as well. Back when Rachel’s big dream of being a model had morphed into their dream of moving to L.A. They’d spend hours at each others houses, staying up late talking about what agency Rachel would try for, what clubs they'd visit, where they’d get their first shitty apartment. Looking at every goddamn picture of hanging plants and interior design inspiration that Rachel had saved on her phone until the sun started to creep back into their rooms and they’d finally sleep.
Chloe can feel her chest start to tighten as the memories shine through like that old sunlight but thankfully Frank breaks back in.
“She used to talk about you.”
Chloe leg stops bouncing “Yeah?”
“Mmm. Sometimes she’d never shut up about whatever trouble you two had been getting into. It used to drive me up the wall. Made me wonder why she kept coming around if she had you.”
Chloe doesn’t know what to say at first, just stares up the special menu, traces the curve of each letter with her eyes and tries to pins down a feeling that’s been building up for six months now.
“I think- she had me, more than I had her.” The words emerge slowly and while they grate against her throat, they’re not as painful to admit as she’d once thought. Chloe supposes she’s know for a while now, maybe she’d known whole time.
“Yeah” Franks agrees in a low tone that matches Chloe’s own. “Yeah, I get that.”
And she knows he does. Frank Bowers might be the last person in all of Arcadia Bay that truly understands what it was like to be in love with Rachel Amber. And what it’s like to feel her absence.
Frank goes to light his cigarette, flame hovering in front of it but seems to think better of it and stuffs the pack back in his pocket. He pushes away his few remaining possessions and reaches for a jar.
The jar itself is stuffed with crumbled bills that Frank keeps pulling out, unfolding and then adding to a newly made count pile. Chloe watches as each bill is pulled out, straightened, and put into it’s corresponding pile. An easy four grand starts to emerge on the bar counter before Frank’s jar is even empty.
She’s reminded of her unpaid loan and feels her stomach drop. Is Frank still expecting her to pay up? Because if she didn’t have three grand on her last week then she sure as hell doesn’t have it now when everyone, including herself, is basically living with just the clothes on their back. She doesn’t even have David’s gun anymore, having returned it to the case after some insistence from Max upon their return from Thursday nights party.
But it’s fine, they’re totally cool now, right? They wouldn’t be breaking into his RV and sitting inside Two Whales while Max is off getting dog treats if Frank was going to shake her down.
Chloe’s leg starts to bouncing again, remembering the last time she saw that much money in one place, back in the principal’s office at Blackwell. Chloe wonders if it’s still there. She shakes her head. Max wouldn’t want her to take it now even if there’s no way Blackwell’s getting opened again for at least six months. Chloe doesn’t think she’d take it either. Well. Not for herself anyway. Maybe some Robin Hood type shit though, buy some fancy hotel voucher for the families still in the shelter. Send Joyce and David to his parents and keep a little for gas so she and Max can go- wherever. Max would probably be okay with that, right?
“So,” without looking from his counting Frank breaks in, “when are you two leaving?”
It takes Chloe a moment to realise he’s referring to Max as well. She licks her dry lips, “We haven’t really talked about it yet.”
“Soon then.” He speaks with authority, likes it’s already been decided for them and that makes Chloe twitch. She’s getting real tired of feeling like every choice is being made for her.
“No, it means we haven’t talked about it. But we will, and we’ll decide what we’re doing in our own time.”
Salt Lake, Cloverdale, Seattle. Options.
“What about you? You sticking around for all this?”
Frank shakes his head “No. Going to head south. Got some favours I can call in down there.”
He eyes her up like he’s going to say more but just lapses into silence as he continues his task. Dividing the the money into two piles, Frank stacks them up and ties them into thick wads.
“Here.”
Chloe is equal parts stunned and confused at the money being pushed in front of her.
“I don’t need another loan, dude. And I’ll, uh, sort out that cash for you as soon as-” She doesn’t finish because she doesn’t know what comes after ‘as soon as’ anymore.
“No, you won’t. But I don’t care anymore. I’ve had enough of you Bay kids for a lifetime now. So take it and get out of here”
Chloe shoots up from the bar stool she was perched on “I’m not looking to be your charity case here, man! I can handle myself.”
“Chloe for once in your goddamn life just shut up and listen!” Suddenly they’re like two bulls in a destroyed china shop, or diner in this case, turning on each other once everything else has been shattered.
“Look, Rachel’s gone and there ain't nothing I can do for her anymore. I fucked up. I know that.“
Chloe stares at him, jaw clenched so tight she feels like her teeth crack at any moment. Frank presses on.
“But you’re here. You’re here right now and I can still do something for you. You and your- partner, back there,” he gestures in a vague direction to where Max is outside. Chloe breaks her glare on Frank, eyes flickering to the window, to the reminder of her partner. She turns back and takes a breath.
“I’m not in the habit of being in debt anymore.”
Frank just scowls “You don’t owe me shit, Chloe. And you don’t owe this town shit either, none of us do.”
He keeps going before Choe can try to argue the point. “If you owe anyone it’s yourself, alright? You owe it to yourself to finally get the hell outta this town. Pack your truck, take that girl of yours and just drive on on out. There ain’t nothing left here worth seeing anymore.” Frank spreads his arms out wide to encapsulate the destroyed diner, the torn up front street, the whole of Arcadia.
Then he brings his arms down onto the counter and is looking at her with the same intensity he did while holding a knife to her throat back at American Rust. If she wasn’t so sure that Max was the time traveler between them then she’d start to think that maybe he was some fucked up alternate version of herself, giving her one last warning to get out while she can.
Finally she relents. “Alright.”
“Good. Now take this so you afford the damn gas for wherever you’re going.” There’s no room for argument. It doesn’t seem like Frank is going to take no for an answer anyway and she’d rather leave on good terms with him.
There’s nothing much else to do now, they’ve said their peace and it seems like they’re both ready to put this whole thing behind them, this whole town too. Frank goes to collect Pompidou from Max who’s throwing small pieces of dried dog food in the air and watching him jump to catch them. Duffle bag on his shudder, dog at his side, Frank takes a long look at Chloe and Max. Chloe thinks this might be the last time they ever see Frank Bowers again, and that it’s the first time she’s been aware of that before someone actually left.
She watches as Max bends down to give Pompidou one last stroke and straightens to look at Frank. An awkward second passes as Max seems to consider what best way to approach their farewell. She settles on a handshake.
“Good luck out there you two.” Frank gives his final well wishes.
Chloe steps up and raises her fist, figures Frank will humor her this one last time, and after a brief eye roll he bumps her fist with his own. “Thanks, Frank. For everything.”
Chloe watches the man and his dog walk down the road, growing smaller and smaller until they’re just specs on the horizon.
“Everything okay in there?” Max’s voices finally draws her attention away from the horizon.
“Yeah yeah, no problem. We just talked some.” When Chloe turns back to Max she sees her giving a look that indicates she didn’t mean inside the diner. Chloe just takes her hand back and smiles.
“Come on, let's get back. There’s something I want to talk about anyway.” Frank’s parting gift is heavy in her pocket and she eager to share the news with Max.
Salt Lake, Cloverdale, Seattle, Portland, Paris even. Wherever Max wants to go then that’s where they’ll head.