Work Text:
The camera flashed. Shermie blinked stars out of his vision, and the World’s Best Grandpa t-shirt in his hands wasn’t a dream after all.
It was real.
That photo probably wasn’t gonna turn out great, but Shermie gave it a week at most before his confused face made it into his daughter-in-law’s baby scrapbook.
“You’re pregnant?” he stammered at the same time as Ruth and Ma, though they both sounded more excited than he did. His old drill sergeant would’ve shredded him to pieces in front of the whole company if he’d been alive to hear it.
Rebecca nodded eagerly, twirling the camera in her hand with a dazzling smile. There was a glow around her whole body–or maybe the living room lightbulb above her was just way too damn bright.
“Three and a half months along!” she announced proudly, lifting the bottom of her loose-fitting shirt. Her exposed belly was slightly stretched out from the hem of her pants, and while it could be mistaken for a little extra fat now, it wouldn’t be long before the pregnancy would be obvious to everyone.
Her long hair was done up in playful, bouncy curls, and she wore just enough makeup to highlight her pretty looks without overdoing it.
“... no wonder you look ready to meet the Queen,” Shermie said, his throat dry at the thought of being a grandfather at forty-nine.
He ran a hand down his face, leaning against the back of the couch with his new T-shirt draped across his stomach.
Couldn’t his son give him a little warning before inviting them to a casual family dinner at his new house? Jacob looked way too smug for his own good, like he’d been plotting to give his poor father an early heart attack this whole time.
Shermie swallowed, the takeout lo mein noodles suddenly not agreeing with his stomach.
“You’ve only just moved into this house. Still lots of expenses to be paid, even with your promotion,” he said to Jacob. “And you’re already adding a kid to the mix?”
And Rebecca was still a year away from finishing college. She worked hard at her tutoring job on the side, but she was gonna have to cut back to take care of the baby now.
Rebecca never brought up her parents and siblings, and the first and only time she ever spoke of them, it was with such vitriol that nobody broached the subject. It was pointless to ask if they’d provide financial support.
Even with the steadily rising prices that would’ve driven Pa to his grave a lot sooner, California was still better than Jersey. Which made it all the more important to be frugal with their money, if they wanted to keep living lives where they didn’t have to worry about putting food on the table.
“We’ll be fine,” Jacob said curtly, wrapping an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders as the smile dropped from her face. “We’re responsible enough for this.”
“Sure you are,” Shermie snorted, and he ignored Jacob and Ruth’s glares. Rebecca just leaned against Jacob, one hand gently resting on her stomach.
The wedding had been nothing but one disaster after another because they didn’t properly vet their planner. Ruth had forbidden Shermie’s involvement in the problem, and she ran interference so the lovebirds wouldn’t break up from the stress.
Instead, Shermie had devoted himself to distracting Ma from harsh reality. She talked of nothing but her beloved grandson and his beautiful fiancée in the months leading up to the wedding, and because of the wonderful news, her mind was far sharper than it had been in years.
Letting her believe a lie was kinder than breaking her heart with the truth. And Shermie refused to devastate her, as his younger brothers always did.
Now Ma beckoned Rebecca closer to her wheelchair with a ‘come here’ motion of her fingers, her striking red nail polish glinting even in the harsh yellow light. He’d never seen her use any other color but that same shade of red in his entire life.
Just a reminder that Ma was still Ma, and not a stranger imitating her.
“Dr. Miranda said they’re both healthy,” Rebecca said, and Ma’s breath hitched as she felt the slightly stretched belly.
Ruth gasped, hands flying to her gaping mouth. The World’s Best Grandma shirt dropped to the floor as she shot to her feet, throwing up her arms and screaming in celebration. She rushed over to the other women, and Rebecca almost lost her footing when Ruth wrapped her in an enormous embrace.
“Careful! We want these babies to see the next term!” Rebecca laughed, Ruth’s presence wiping away her frown. She supported herself on the armrest of Ma’s wheelchair.
Ma reached over, gently touching Rebecca’s golden necklace–a necklace that was once hers, before she’d given it to Ruth, who’d given it to Rebecca just before the wedding. She rasped out an old prayer in Yiddish with tears in her eyes, the words jumbled and disjointed.
Helplessly, Rebecca glanced at Ruth for help.
“Let her finish,” Ruth murmured, carefully steadying Rebecca as Ma continued her recitation. “She’s warding the evil spirits away from your children.”
Jacob pressed a can of Pitt Cola into Shermie’s hand. He popped the lid, guzzling all twelve ounces in a single gulp.
His chest felt weird, and a sudden bout of lightheadedness overtook him.
Your children. Both healthy. Have mercy, another set of twins…
He wondered if Pa had been a lot more bothered at the prospect of having twins than he looked.
And look how those twins managed to turn out: one estranged and the other dead.
What Shermie wouldn’t give for Pa’s stoic composure now.
“...how much more is that promotion paying you?” Shermie coughed, thumping his traitorous heart before Ruth noticed anything amiss. She’d been hounding him to make an appointment at the veteran's office about his weak knee for a month now, and her nagging was sure to only grow worse if she suspected something was up with his heart.
Jacob crossed his arms, meeting Shermie’s very valid question with an icy glare.
“Enough to support a pair of twins,” he replied stiffly, which was a bold-faced lie in this economy. Then Jacob cast a quick glance at the women, who were too preoccupied to notice the tension between him and Shermie. He locked eyes with Shermie and silently jerked his thumb to the kitchen.
Whatever he had to say next, he didn’t want Rebecca to hear. It was probably better for the babies this way.
Shermie set the World’s Best Grandpa t-shirt aside (it was definitely Rebecca’s idea) and slowly pushed himself up from the edge of the couch. His knee popped, and Shermie gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain traveled up his spine, but he refused to make a sound so nobody would be on his ass about something that was just mildly inconvenient.
Then he followed Jacob into the kitchen at a slower pace than what his ever-impatient son would’ve preferred. Jacob’s fingers tapped against the countertop as he waited for Shermie to catch up. Though the sound was irritating, it wouldn’t do any good to tell him to stop. Sometimes Shermie questioned if Jacob chose the granite countertop over the oakwood to spite him–a kitchen was supposed to be a cozy place to rest and relax after a long day, and the granite color was too cold for Shermie’s liking.
“I’m not fifteen anymore, Dad,” Jacob said, lifting his chin in that same condescending manner Ford always did when he was explaining something that normal people had no hope of understanding. “I can take care of my family, including the twins. So quit acting like they’re some kind of burden for us.”
“I never said the twins were a burden. Quit putting words in my mouth,” Shermie snapped. Did Jacob always have to accuse him of saying things he’d never actually said? “I’m reasonably concerned–”
“About what? Is this about money again?” Jacob rolled his eyes, which made it very difficult to refute his claim of not being fifteen anymore. The whole damn home computer industry was turning Jacob’s brain to mush. He and his colleagues seemed to believe they could send a man to the moon with just one push of a button from home–in their pajamas and without getting out of bed no less. “I told you, it’s taken care of.”
Shermie scowled, because that did nothing to alleviate his worry. “How? You may have been promoted, but you still aren’t the CEO of McGucket Computers. A manager position still isn’t enough to afford a house in Piedmont. I still say you should’ve picked that property in San Bernardino–you wouldn’t be scrimping as much that way. Not to mention better countertops.”
Jacob took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling. He was stalling for time, and Shermie knew his son didn’t want to reveal the answer.
Had to be embezzlement then. Jacob was mistaken. Shermie would completely understand. He’d committed his own crimes too.
“I’m waiting, Jacob,” Shermie said.
And he was willing to wait all night for the truth.
Jacob’s shoulders slumped, all his youthful bravado gone. Shermie’s words finally sank through his thick skull. He wasn’t getting out of this one.
“Uncle Ford sent money. A generous amount, actually,” Jacob admitted. “We already told him about the twins.”
Shermie’s fingers itched to pick up the landline, dial the number for Ford’s school of insanity, and demand an explanation on how the hell he’d gotten the news first instead of the twins’ own grandfather.
It took all his willpower to wrench himself away from the phone and yank open the fridge instead. He took out a cold can of Pitt Cola and shoved it into Jacob’s hands, which were white-knuckled against the granite countertop.
“He’s gonna collect on that, you know,” Shermie grumbled, helping Jacob pop the tab when his fingers wouldn’t work.
There wasn’t much Shermie could do about Ford’s loan. Jacob was free to make well-meaning yet idiotic decisions for his household.
“That wasn’t the only reason I called,” Jacob said, watching his soda fizzle up to the brim of the can. But he didn’t lift it to his mouth.
Shermie raised an eyebrow. It was a good, cold soda, and he didn’t give it to Jacob just for it to be wasted.
“It’s just…what if something happens when the twins are born?” Jacob gulped. “So I asked Uncle Ford to be there. He’s got twelve PHDs. So if something went wrong…I thought, maybe he could help?”
None of his doctorates are in medicine, Shermie wanted to say, but he held his tongue because Jacob’s nerves were too frayed to accept that fact.
Though he disliked Jacob’s decision to call upon Ford’s help before his own, he could tell that Jacob only thought he was acting in the best interest of Rebecca and the twins.
Sometimes, fatherhood meant making tough decisions. Sacrifices too, in extreme situations.
It meant accepting a gun and uniform and being shipped off to a war that he didn’t want to fight, that Ruth was vehemently against fighting either, but because they were known to law enforcement as dissenters, he had to accept his place in the army or she would’ve been forced to give birth in a prison cell.
Jacob never had to know those horrors. Life handed out small mercies every once in a while.
“Do me a favor, Jacob,” Shermie said, leaning against the countertop to relieve the pressure from his aching knee. “When the twins are born, after you and Rebecca welcome them into the family, and they’re given a clean bill of health…”
Jacob finally managed to take a small sip of his soda.
“...I’d like to be the next person who holds them.”
Soda spewed right out the side of Jacob’s mouth, dribbling onto the granite countertop that Shermie hated so much. Really, it had more character with Pitt Cola all over it.
I know I’m overstepping, but you used to be so angry that I wasn’t there for you when you were born, and for a time afterwards. We fought, then you snuck out to a party you weren’t old enough for, and I had to pick you up from jail. At least you were able to turn your life around…there are others who weren’t so lucky.
If Jacob accused him of trying to ease a guilty conscience, it wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate.
Waiting was all Shermie could do these days.
Then Jacob leaned in, slinging an arm around Shermie’s shoulders.
“Sure, Dad,” he said with a smile, not needing as much convincing as Shermie thought. “Becky’s gonna be happy you’re there too. Just promise me you won’t try to fistfight Uncle Ford.”
Shermie lightly thumped the side of Jacob’s head with his fist, and Jacob cracked a grin.
“Fine. I won’t try to fistfight him…in the birth unit,” Shermie said, holding up his other hand in a solemn vow. “I can’t make promises about anywhere else though.”
Jacob accepted these terms with a laugh, and it didn’t take long before Shermie was laughing along too. They held up their Pitt Cola cans like they were fine glasses of wine and toasted for the first twin, drank, then toasted again for the second.
These twins were still developing in the womb, but they already had ways of working miracles, bringing the entire family together in celebration for once, instead of mourning.
If all goes well, there’s gonna be a lot more of this to come. Birthdays and holidays and family outings, it’ll be a good change for us. We’ve been nothing but gloomy for so long, we could use a pair of little troublemakers right now.
They were so wrapped up in the moment with nothing but each other, their cans of Pitt Cola, and the granite countertop that Shermie despised slightly less than before, that they both jumped at the sound of a timid knock and a hesitant voice calling their names.
“Jacob? Mr. Pines?” Rebecca called from the kitchen entrance, her hand curled in an uncertain fist. Her eyes were watery, and she looked as though she was gonna cry any moment now. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but-”
Jacob abandoned his drink at once, pulling Rebecca into a hug the moment he reached her.
“What’s the matter?” Jacob demanded. “Are you feeling sick again? Were you standing up for too long? Did Mom or Grandma say anything to you? Cause I’ll go talk to them if they-”
Rebecca just looked at the ground, unable to respond to Jacob’s rapid-fire questions.
Shermie clamped a firm hand on Jacob’s shoulder, stopping him from overwhelming Rebecca before she could tell them the situation.
“Mr. Pines makes me sound old, Rebecca. Just call me Shermie,” he said. She hadn’t quite kicked the formal habit yet, though he held out hope that she’d abandon it for good once the twins were born. Grandpa Shermie was much more preferable anyway. “What happened?”
Rebecca broke away from Jacob, casting a worried glance to the living room.
“It’s Mrs. Pi–I mean, it’s Caryn,” Rebecca stammered. “She started crying after her prayer. We can’t get her to stop. Ruth and I already tried moving her to the porch for fresh air. But now she just keeps asking for…Stanley? She means Stanford, right?”
A lump formed in Shermie’s throat, and he covered it up with a cough.
“Right…” Shermie said. Let people believe what they want, and it saved him the effort of coming up with an effective lie. It was safer for Rebecca to assume that Ma only mispronounced Stanford Pines’ famous name. “You two stay put. Get some tissues, water, whatever you need to calm down. I’ll handle Ma.”
Rebecca sighed in relief, letting a very awkward Jacob steer her to the nearest chair.
“Thank you.” She flicked away an escaped tear with one finger. “I think…I think I’ll be fine. It’s just hormones.”
Jacob glanced at Shermie for help, his eyes widening to a comical degree. But Shermie just gave him a shrug and a wave before leaving for the porch. There were just some things that Jacob had to figure out on his own.
Shermie forced his shoulders to relax, silently counting to ten in his head as he took slow, measured steps across the foyer.
He had no option but to be calm and rational for Ma’s sake. As her first son to be born and last son to remain, he had a duty to be there for her. His brothers may have abandoned her for their own selfish pursuits, but Shermie refused to be like them, even if she wasn’t always the perfect mother growing up.
The front door was wide open.
Ruth was sitting in a plastic chair next to Ma, their faces turned to the road as they watched a bright red car go by. Ma leaned forward in her chair–she must’ve thought the car would be coming up the driveway–only to sit back in disappointment when it turned onto another street.
“When will Stanley come back?” Ma asked. “He’s been gone for a while.”
Ruth took Ma’s hand in hers, offering a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Soon,” she replied. “Boxing practice must’ve run late again.”
Ma just nodded, accepting Ruth’s lie without question. She trusted every word out of her and Shermie’s mouth, and without fail, her gullibility always caused a hollow pit within him.
He cleared his throat, and both women looked over their shoulders.
“Hi, Ma.” Shermie kept his voice soft, and Ma’s hand reached for him. Ruth vacated her chair, and Shermie mouthed a quick thanks to her before sitting next to Ma and clasping her hand in a tight, reassuring hold. “Sorry if I worried you. Coach kept me longer today.”
Ma smiled. It seemed bigger and brighter than it had in a long time.
“It’s okay, Stanley,” she said, and Shermie’s throat clammed up. The back of his neck was damp with sweat, but not from boxing practice like Ma believed. “You missed Jacob though. He came by with the best news I’ve gotten for a long time.”
Ma’s eyes held a spark of light in them, a small flame returning after being snuffed out for two decades.
“What did he say?” Shermie asked, shoving aside the bubble of anger at being mistaken for Stanley. But he only had himself to blame. He never corrected her, and let her believe what she wanted.
Always Stanley. He’s the only son she asks for, even though I’ve been the only one taking care of her for years.
“He’s having twins. Isn’t that wonderful?” Ma’s laugh was raspy, but not unpleasant to hear. “My prediction was right!”
Shermie couldn’t remember anyone who was this excited for his younger brothers’ arrival into the world.
But now, things were different.
The world was brighter. People were kinder. And these new twins brought everyone together, being loved even before they were born.
“Yeah,” Shermie agreed, his face damp in the evening breeze. “It’s wonderful.”