Chapter Text
It was around 2:30am when Stan finally left the house. Wendy's house, now. Eric ran a hand through his hair and winced slightly when he accidentally brushed a bruise on his head.
“I'm sorry, Eric. You shouldn't have had to deal with that.” Wendy sighed as she sat back in bed. Cartman shook his head.
“That motherfucker has some gall to come in here and be mad at you for some shit he was doing for months.” He grumbled. “I don't give a shit what that faggot thinks of me.”
Wendy lightly rubbed his back in silent thanks. “You're more than welcome to stay the night, I don't have to grab the kids until after school.” She offered. Eric fought the urge to rub his face.
“Honestly, thanks, but I really need to get going anyway.” He stood slowly and started to pick up his clothes.
“Oh…” Wendy trailed off. She sounded disappointed. “I understand.” Eric walked over to her and kissed her forehead.
“Don't worry about it, alright? I just have shit at the bar and my house that I have to get to. Just get some sleep, ok?” He rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. She smiled softly at him.
“Ok. Thank you.” Wendy kissed his hand that was on her shoulder. He gave her one last squeeze before he finished getting dressed.
“I'll message you tomorrow.” Eric didn't know how else to say goodbye.
“Good luck.” Wendy replied, equally unsure. Cartman took his leave, careful to lock the door on his way out.
He sighed as the cold winter air hit his face, his breath was visible. He shivered his way over to his car and drove off, the bar was his first destination.
Eric found Martin and Georgia wiping tables and putting up the stools for the night. “Hey, thanks again for closing up guys.” He called out to them as he went to check the cash register for the night as usual.
“Anytime, bossman. But where'd you have to go on such short notice, anyway?” Georgia asked, ever the snoop.
“I had a personal affair.” Cartman answered with a huff, a little pleased with his double entendre.
“Affair is right, you look like you got tossed around!” Georgia laughed. Oh, right, the fight.
“Look, it's a long fucking story, alright?” Eric sighed. At least Martin had the good sense to keep to himself.
“Hey boss, I'm out of here.” Martin gave a salute, which was supposed to be ironic according to him, but he was always so serious about it.
“Thanks Martin. See you.” Cartman replied.
“For real, are you ok?” Georgia asked.
“Yeah, I'm ok. It was a necessary risk.” He explained without explaining. Georgia sighed.
“Well, alright, if you say so. I'm outta here boss. See you tomorrow.” Georgia waved as she walked out.
“Bye Georgia.” He shook his head. He finished up counting the register and recording profit, not too shabby, then locked up on his way out.
The next destination was his home. Eric could feel his anxiety mount again, but what could be done? He had to face the reality of his life, the same as he did every day.
He pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. He loathed returning here every night, but it was the most reasonable option all things considered. He trudged his way inside.
His mother was on the couch watching tv. She smelled so badly that he could smell it as soon as he entered the front room. She must've forgotten where the bathroom was again. He sighed.
“Hi mom.” Cartman stated softly. “Let's get you in the shower, ok?”
“Why would we do that, honey?” Liane replied. “Can't I finish my show first?”
“C'mon, mom, I don't want you to get a rash or some shit.” He tried to reason with her. She sighed.
“Well I don't know, alright.” Liane conceded. He helped her up from the couch which was thankfully unscathed. Investing in bulk packs of adult diapers a few weeks into moving here was the right move.
He helped her undress and shower. He helped her dress again, which included another adult diaper. Thankfully a rash hadn't started to develop yet. He wondered how long they would be so lucky.
Seven months ago, Eric Cartman got a call from the South Park Emergency Room. “Hello, am I speaking to Eric Cartman?” The nurse asked.
“Yeah, who the fuck is this? Make it quick, I'm busy.” Eric grumbled. He was in the middle of a board meeting at the company he was working for, and had to step out.
“This is the South Park Emergency Room calling. We understand you're the son of Liane Cartman, is that correct?” The nurse asked in the same tone. Eric's stomach twisted.
“Yeah, that's right. What's going on?” His voice was drenched in worry. “What the fuck happened?”
“Your mother was found asleep and unresponsive in the park in the center of town this morning. A concerned citizen called an ambulance, and we admitted her for acute starvation and dehydration. We've been observing her for a few hours, and she's able to communicate now, but we have some concerns as to how this happened. We've been running more tests, and did some scans, and we think your mother has early onset Dementia.” The nurse finally explained. Eric felt like the wind was knocked out of him.
“Oh my god.” Was all he could manage to say.
“She's going to need constant care and checking in on. We can recommend you some senior care homes to–”
“No!” Eric yelled. “No, no, no, I'll come get her, I'll come take care of her, just hold her for a couple days, please? I'm in New York, I need time to get back.”
“Yes, we can make that work. The bill for her stay will reflect the extra time.” The nurse replied.
“Fine, whatever.” Eric sighed.
That was how he found himself back in South Park, a town he expected to never see again. He was supposed to become a New York hotshot, he was well on his way, even. He was going to move his mom out to a fancy apartment close by so they could visit any time. He loved his mother, as much of a mess as she had always been. But it wasn't in the cards.
So he moved back into his childhood home, used his severance pay and savings to buy Skeeter's Bar, and made it his own. He made it work. He was all she had, her stupid family wasn't going to help. He had to make it work.
Eric tucked his mom into bed, then went and collapsed into his own bed. He didn't have time for thoughts before he fell asleep.