We Are Not Heroes

Instead, the boys decide to create a nest for you on the couch, with everything to keep you comfortable right within reach. There are four blankets piled up, two beneath you to make the couch even cushier, and two next to you in case you become cold. Luke’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunchbox sits one cushion over, its ice pack keeping a bottle of water and an orange Gatorade cold and ready for consumption. Ryan, the taller of the two, wasn’t able to reach the top shelf in the pantry and grab the cookies (which is exactly why the treats are kept so high up), so the boys brought in every type of chip they could scavenge together. They had hoped for more than just three different kinds, but one of Eddie’s errands for the day is to go to the grocery store for a reason. So, Luke set a can of Pringles between a bag of nacho cheese Doritos and a bag of salt and vinegar Lays. 

The boys also provide you with the book you’re currently reading, but your sore neck only lets you read for ten minutes before you have to put it down. Luke then scoops the remote off the coffee table and quickly scrolls through the television guide. You have to look away because the speed he’s clicking away with starts to make you feel nauseous. He briefly stops on an episode of Scooby Doo, unable to resist the temptation. Ryan elbows him in the side, though, and that breaks the spell. Unfortunately, there’s nothing on that interests you at the moment. Ryan is about to suggest one of the many movies in the household collection when Luke gets an idea. 

“Wait,” the ten-year-old says, grabbing his brother’s arm. “Come with me.”

Ryan isn’t given a chance to answer before Luke drags him up the stairs. 

“Okay,” you say into the empty room. With one hand on your bump, you reach over and grab the can of Pringles. 

Ryan and Luke disappear long enough for you to finish the rest of the can, which wasn’t completely full, you tell yourself. 

There’s some scuffling from their rooms, the usual back-and-forth bickering that luckily doesn’t escalate. You’re far too exhausted to even consider breaking up a Munson brother fight. 

“Okay, you remember the words, right?” Luke whispers loudly. 

“Yeah, obviously.” You can practically hear Ryan’s eyeroll. “I’m the one who wrote them down.”

“I’m the one who wrote them—ow!” Luke’s nasal mocking is cut short with a thud. “Push me again and I’ll kick your—”

“BOYS.”

The arguing stops the moment you raise your voice. Probably to avoid another one of your pregnancy hormone-induced crying spells, which may have happened the last time they fought. 

Whatever works. 

“Are you ready?” Luke calls from somewhere near the top of the stairs. 

“For what?” you call back.

“You’ll see!”

“Then how do I know if I’m ready for it?” you tease.

“Just…” Luke sputters. “You’re ready!”

A chuckle rumbles out of you, and you settle a hand on your bump. You truly don’t know if you’re ready for whatever the boys have cooked up, but you also know that you don’t have a choice. 

The thuds that pound down the stairwell sound like a stampede of wildebeasts instead of two boys. 

You had hoped that when you saw them, you’d get some clue as to what they’re planning. You couldn’t be more wrong. 

Both boys are wearing their black slacks and suit jackets that they had worn to your and Eddie’s wedding. The waistband of the red cotton shorts Luke is wearing peeks out from the top of the slacks, and he and Ryan are both wearing the t-shirts they had on all day beneath the jackets. Your wedding was only seven months ago, but you still notice that the slacks are shorter on the two boys than they were back in February. A surge of pregnancy hormones rushes forward, making you emotional at how big Luke and Ryan are getting, and how they’re growing so fast. But you manage to swallow it down as you take in the rest of the boys’ ensembles. 

Each of them is wearing their sunglasses, and Luke has his black baseball hat on, while Ryan has Eddie’s black beanie on his head. The beanie is too big since Ryan’s head isn’t as large as his father’s, so the top of it flops down to the right, despite it being pulled down to just above his sunglasses. 

In bold green magic marker (at least, you hope it’s washable), each boy has written their name on their knuckles. 

“What on earth—”

You abruptly end your sentence as Luke lunges forward to grab the remote control for the television and the one for the DVD player. The younger brother tosses the smaller DVD remote to Ryan and keeps the bigger one for himself. 

The two of them look at one another, Ryan gives a nod, and they take their positions. They stand next to one another, their chins dipped, and their eyes on the floor. 

“Dun, dun.” At Ryan’s imitation of the opening notes of a song, both boys sway to the left, then right at each beat. 

The warden threw a party in the county jail

The prison band was there, and they began to wail 

Luke has his remote lifted to his mouth like a microphone as he begins to sing. Ryan holds his remote up to his mouth as well, and it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s holding it horizontally to his lips, as if it were a harmonica. 

The band was jumping, and the joint began to swing

You should've heard them knocked out jailbirds sing 

A peal of laughter bursts out of you as you realize you’re watching a Blues Brothers performance. 

Let's rock

Everybody, let's rock

Everybody in the whole cell block

Was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock 

The brothers step side to side, mimicking the choreography of Jake and Elwood in the film. The whole spectacle of it: the improvised costumes, the remotes as a microphone and a harmonica, the dance steps from the movie, Luke’s buoyant child voice singing the Elvis lyrics; it tickles you pink. You break into a fit of giggles as you watch your sons perform. 

It also strikes you, seeing them in this element, how much like Eddie they each are in their own way. Luke obviously looks like a miniature version of his father, but seeing the way he hams it up as a natural performer he channels his father so completely that the resemblance goes far beyond looks. Though Ryan’s physical likeness to Eddie might not be as pronounced as his brother, watching him pretend to rock out on his fake harmonica he becomes his father incarnate, every movement and expression echoing him perfectly. 

Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone

Little Joe was blowing on the slide trombone

The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang

The whole rhythm section was the Purple Gang 

Between Luke’s boisterous singing and the way you’re laughing in unabashed enjoyment, none of you hear the front door open. The swish of plastic grocery bags is what first alerts you to Eddie’s presence as he steps into the room. 

You look over your shoulder and see your husband looking at his sons, his eyebrows raised and his expression beyond amused. 

They each look up at him in return, Ryan’s sunglasses slipping down his nose as he does, but the true performers they are, they know the show must go on. 

Let's rock

Everybody, let's rock

Everybody in the whole cell block

Was dancing to the Jailhouse Rock 

Without a word, Eddie walks into the kitchen. He obviously needs to set the bags down, but the noise you hear coming from that part of the house goes beyond the simple chore. 

Number forty-seven said to number three

"You're the cutest jailbird I ever did see"

I sure would be delighted with your company

Come on and do the Jailhouse Rock with me" 

As Luke finishes the verse, Eddie steps back into the room, his guitar strapped around him, a pick in his hand. He comes in with the music exactly at the point the boys are at in the song. The ease with which their father joins in amazes the boys. They halt in their performances to stare up at their dad.

“You can play this song?” Luke asks, dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a laugh, finding his youngest son’s confusion amusing. “You think I grew up in the same house as Grandpa and didn’t learn how to play some Elvis songs on the guitar?”

“Oh, your grandfather and his love for Elvis,” you chime in fondly. 

“Is that why he rewinds this scene over and over again in the movie so much?” Ryan asks.

“That, and The Blues Brothers is a damn good movie,” Eddie responds. 

“Do you know the trombone song?” Luke asks. “The one that goes wah wah wahhhh wah wah wah wah…”

Eddie stifles a laugh. “Maybe we save Minnie the Moocher for when you’re older.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Luke says, waving his free hand in the air. “We gotta start from the top.”

You look up at your husband, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“You’re not even going to ask how this all started?” 

Eddie shakes his head.

“Nope,” he says. 

“We are providing entertainment,” Ryan answers anyway. 

“Yeah, so she’s less miserable,” Luke tells his dad. 

“You think she’ll be less miserable with you singing?” Eddie teases with a smirk. 

Luke’s little jaw pops open as his face scrunches. 

“Your voice is lovely!” you assure Luke. 

The ten-year-old turns to you and bows his head.

“Thank you,” he says pointedly. “Now,” he says, facing his father again, “from the top!”

Eddie gives him a salute as Ryan retakes his opening position. 

Dun dun the guitar wails. 

The warden threw a party in the county jail

The prison band was there, and they began to wail

The band was jumping, and the joint began to swing

You should've heard them knocked out jailbirds sing