nate | he/him | 23 | mdni

The shadow of a memory waltzed through Robby’s sleeping mind. It was only a few weeks after his eighth birthday. He was playing with the Superman action figure his mom had bought for him, already completely forgetting how disappointed he had been on the day he got it and how much he had wanted the Batman one instead, having the time of his life using her shoe boxes full of crafting supplies as the skyscrapers of Metropolis for his stuffed bunny, the monster of his pretend play, to destroy.

His mom entered the room and, without a word, grabbed him up off the floor by the back of his shirt.

“Mom?” he said, his voice laced with confusion as she forcefully dragged him over to the bathroom, shoving him inside and shutting the door behind them.

The bathtub was filled with water. There were bloodstains on the floor.

“Mommy?” he asked again, more scared this time, starting to back away though he was still stuck in her iron grip.

She picked him up and held him tightly in her arms, stroking the hair at the back of his head. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I know, mommy,” he replied, nuzzling his head on her shoulder and relaxing in her arms. “I love you too.”

Her body was starting to shake. She whispered through sobs, “I’m so sorry.” Then she set him in the tub, fully clothed, and before he could protest, she pushed his head under the water and held him down. As he thrashed and kicked and tried to fight back, she kept crying, kept saying, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His vision started to blacken as the water filled his little lungs. His little legs stopped kicking so hard. His little fingers stopped clawing at his mommy’s hands perpetually pushing him down. His little body started to give out and get cold. His little eyes fluttered closed, possibly for the last time. And then he was ripped from the water.

Robby shot upright and instinctively sucked in a deep breath, looking around until he remembered where he was. The taste of decades-old bath water was still fresh on his tongue. The sweat soaking his brow almost made him think he was back in that bathroom again. It was hard to look down at the body of a grown man and make the connection that he was living in that freckled, hairy skin.

He stayed sitting there on his bed for quite a while longer, his mind wandering back to the memory stuck in his head and heart like a deep-seated ache. It was a dream he’d had many, many times before, and it always ended in the same way: someone saving him. He never knew who it was. He always woke up before he found out.

He never knew in the waking world either. The next memory he had was laying in a hospital bed with a sore chest and tubes in his nose while his Bubbe held his hand. She taught him the Modeh Ani while he was still kind of groggy. Something to speak first thing in the morning. A prayer of gratitude to live another day and see the sunrise again.

She taught him again the next morning, and every morning until the doctors sent him home. Then, she helped him say it when he kept waking up in their bed after night terrors. It took a while for him to make it through the night in his own bed, but when he finally did, he uttered it to himself before getting up and running to their room to proudly declare his accomplishment.

As he sat there on his bed, saved from certain death in his dream by an unseen face for probably the thousandth time, he let the words of the prayer play behind his eyes. But he didn’t say them aloud. He had nothing to be grateful for. He thought it might have been better if his head had stayed under water for a little while longer. Until the dark and cold overtook him completely.

But it was a little too late to keep hoping for that.

So he got up. He put his clothes on; the same pants and shirt with the same torn black cloth pinned over his heart from the funeral. And he went downstairs, still feeling a firm sense of resentment to whoever it was who pulled him out of that tub so long ago.

Sitting in the low chairs situated around the living room by the couch, Robby had his head down as he stared at the fabric of his pants in thought.

"Mike?" Alek said.

Robby clenched his jaw and looked up. "What, Alek?"

Alek sat in the chair beside him. "I owe you an apology. A lot of apologies, really."

"Conversations should be about the deceased," Robby reminded him in a plain, simple tone.

"I don't think you're ever gonna give me another chance," Alek said, turning to face him. "I'm sorry about all the things I did. You opened your home to me and I ruined all your shit, stole and crashed your car, almost set your hospital on fire..."

"I'm still not sure how you managed that one," Robby mumbled.

Alek chuckled. "Me either. I was pretty fucking out of it at the time."

Robby looked over at him, and took a good look at his face. If he didn't know better, and hadn't seen the paternity test results from the child support lawsuit case files, he never could have guessed in a million years that this guy was his brother. Despite having been given the man's first name, he looked nothing like him. Lucky bastard.

"How long have you been clean?"

"Four years. Four and a half-ish. It'll be five in August."

"I sent you to rehab almost twenty years ago. And again three years later. What did I pay for if you're only just now hitting five years? What the hell have you been doing all this time?"

"My best?"

Robby looked away again. "What about your parents?"

"What about them?"

"As I recall, your mother and stepfather pestered me nonstop while you lived here. Always asking if you were okay, offering to send money for you, repeatedly begging me to make you call them. After you left, did you go back home?"

"Not at first."

"But eventually?"

"Yeah. Eventually. They let me stay with them when I was clean. Kicked me out when I wasn't. So, off and on over the years."

"You plan to stay clean this time?"

"I do. I'm putting in the work. My girlfriend's pregnant, so I wanna be a good dad. Can't do that if I'm in jail again or high off my ass or dead in a ditch somewhere."

"B’sha’ah tovah."

"Uh, thanks… I think. It's gonna be a boy. We might name him Michael."

"Don't."

"Why not? You saved my life."

"Besides the Jewish reason, which I’m not gonna get into right now… Clearly I didn't. Nothing I did for you mattered in the long run. You threw it all away and had to start from scratch. More than once, apparently."

"It did matter, Mike. You did help. I just took too long to let you. So, you know, I want to make amends."

"I've heard this step nine bullshit before, and, honestly, Alek, my father's shiva is hardly the place for it."

He looked back at Alek and caught his sad look before Sam appeared in the doorway and said, "Breakfast is ready."

"Thanks, Sam," Robby said, standing up and walking into the kitchen.

Sam and Kira served breakfast to the mourners while Aaron and Ethan read quietly in the other room. It was bizarre having someone else fix him food in his own house, especially when one of them was a teenage girl. She was a lot younger the last time he saw her.

Once the others left the room, Kat started the prayer (which entirely confused Alek as he tried to follow along), and it was pretty silent after that, besides the sounds of chewing and clothes shifting as limbs moved.

Seemingly out of the blue, Alek said, “He was my father too.”

Robby sighed. “What?”

“You called him ‘my father’. Not our father,” Alek said. “I know I didn’t grow up with him, but–”

“Count yourself lucky on that front,” Robby interrupted.

Alek huffed, annoyed. “Being abandoned isn’t exactly sunshine and daisies, Mike.”

“Compared to living with him, it is,” Robby replied. “You have two great parents already. Why do you want a third, way shittier one added to the mix after he’s already dead?”

“Maybe it’s not our father he wants, but us?” Kat chimed in. “His brother and sister?”

Robby rolled his eyes.

“I tried to be part of the family before and I fucked it up,” Alek said, almost pleadingly. “I just want one more chance. I know I’m not Jewish like you guys, but I still wanna be here, you know? Do whatever I’m supposed to do.”

“You are Jewish,” Kat said. “Whether or not you’re practicing, you have a Jewish parent, so you’re Jewish.”

“But isn’t a mother… related… thing? My mom’s catholic,” Alek said.

“Doesn’t matter. Not to us,” Robby said. He realized that sounded a little too personal, a little too familiar. So he corrected his phrasing. “I mean we’re Reform. We acknowledge Jews from any parentage.”

Alek sat back, scrunching his face in consideration.

Robby started to smile to himself and decided he was in the mood to be a dick, so he voiced a rude comment he might have usually kept in his head. “Don’t think too hard. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Michael,” Kat scolded.

It made Alek laugh, though, and that should have served as validation but all it really did was piss Robby off.

Dealing with the stretches of silence all day long was almost too much to handle. With four vastly different experiences of the same man, conversation about him wasn’t exactly easy.

Robby spent most of the day sitting there doing absolutely nothing besides listening to Yan flipping through old photo albums to tell Alek all about the older brother he idolized as a kid. It was really hard to not groan very loudly at some of the stories.

At one point, Robby ended up watching the screen of his nephews’ Nintendo while they played a game on the floor. Until he was rudely interrupted by Kat’s foot shoving his leg to get his attention.

“Boys, go play that upstairs,” Kat said, still making direct eye contact with Robby as she spoke.

“Sorry,” Robby said defeatedly, albeit a little sarcastically too. “I’m not used to doing nothing for so long.”

“Why not read some of the books Rabbi Cermak left for us?” Kat said as she picked the stack up off the coffee table to deposit in his lap. “They’re essays, poems, and studies about grief and loss, so it’s perfectly permitted.”

Robby slotted on his glasses to take a look at the titles. “Rabbi Cermak, really? You can just call him Sol,” he said offhandedly. “Didn’t you change his diapers or something?”

“When I was eight? No,” she replied. “I babysat him when he was in elementary school, but I reserved the diaper changes for you and only you, little brother.”

Robby tutted. “I hope you know how deeply I appreciate that, big sister.”

Maybe sarcasm is genetic.

As the clock neared six, Sam got up and disarmed the security system for the visitors who would be arriving soon. It only took a few minutes before the first few showed up, and it was a steady flood of bodies not long after that.

Robby did his best to stay calm, knowing it would be at least an hour and a half until the only people he really wanted there would be done with work and changed out of their scrubs before heading over.

He sat around listening to the older members of the synagogue talk about how Oh, Sasha was so nice. He fixed my sink one time. He helped me jump start my car. With that loud motorcycle he had, you always knew when he was coming!

Robby knew they were trying to be kind. They were doing what was always done at shivas: sharing memories and honoring the deceased. But it still felt like torture having to sit there and act like his father wasn’t a total piece of shit for the sake of keeping the peace.

Seemingly endless torture.

Until, finally, when the front door opened again and Robby’s three favorite people walked in. Well, his three favorite people and also Langdon.

They kind of shared a passing glance before Langdon was directed to go put the hefty stack of dishes he brought in the kitchen.

Awkward.

Robby pulled Dana aside. “That your doing?”

“Be quiet,” she replied firmly. “When are you gonna give up on this beef with him? It’s getting a little ridiculous.”

Robby furrowed his brows in annoyance. “When are you gonna stop trying to be my mother?”

“When you stop acting like a child,” Dana said. She sighed and changed her tune. “Look, he wanted to show up for you. He wants to get back in your good graces. He’s been desperate for your approval since he met you, and he’s treating this like a desperate last ditch effort. He’s finishing his residency soon, and if he leaves, you two might never see each other again.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Robby said, his eyes locked on the floorboards.

“Dammit, Robby. You don’t mean that and you know it,” Dana said in a harsh whisper, snapping in front of his face to get him to look back up.

He avoided her scrutinizing gaze anyways, glancing out at the rest of the room instead of facing her confrontation.

She shook her head. “Ignoring your problems doesn’t fix a damn thing, so quit acting stupid and go talk to him. At the very least, thank him for coming. It’s a kind thing to do, even if you still hate him.”

“I don’t hate him…” Robby mumbled.

“So tell him that!” Dana said, practically begging. “I’m sick of him moping around like he’s the scum of the earth because you’re not besties anymore.”

Robby almost laughed. “We were never besties.”

“No, maybe not. But you were to him what Adamson was to you.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

She didn’t let him argue further, and she didn’t keep trying to convince him either. She walked away, and he knew that was his cue to bite the bullet and be the bigger person. Not because she told him to, though. No, he decided on his own. Unrelated to her scolding. Entirely unrelated.

It took a bit of psyching himself up, but Robby eventually wandered into the kitchen and found Langdon in there alone. When they made eye contact again, he gave a nod of greeting and Langdon nodded back.

It was awkwardly silent for a moment, and then Langdon said, “I’m not supposed to say hi, right?”

Robby shook his head.

“Yeah… Whitaker keeps sending everybody articles,” Langdon said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He made a face of realization and pointed out the Tupperware behind him on the table. “I brought pudding. Three kinds.”

“I saw,” Robby said.

“It’s all kosher and everything. All of it,” Langdon added. “Abby went to a store in Shadyside and bought all the stuff to make it all homemade. I tried some of the chocolate. It’s good.”

“Tell her I appreciate it,” Robby replied.

Langdon shifted again, this time shuffling away from the table. It was like he was getting within a sensible distance, trying to have a normal conversation, something they hadn’t had since before his addiction was revealed. “You’ve never talked about your family. I’m guessing you don’t have great relationships with them?”

“Something like that,” Robby said. He sat down in one of the chairs and scratched his beard. “It’s complicated.”

“When isn’t it?” Langdon said.

Robby conceded, “True.”

“I talked to, uh, Alex?” Langdon said, still fidgeting restlessly. “Your brother, right?”

“Alek.”

“Right. He told me he used to live with you.”

“Digging for gossip, Frank?”

“Looking for understanding. He’s an addict too.”

“Not anymore. He’s clean now. Apparently.”

“Well… You don’t really ever stop being an addict.”

“That seems kind of reductive. And pessimistic.”

“No. Just the truth. It’s good that he’s clean, don’t get me wrong, but just because he’s not using right now doesn’t mean he’s magically not addicted anymore. It’s a lifelong disease.”

Robby let out a laugh. Not a cruel one, and not necessarily at Alek’s expense, but moreso at himself. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

“What’s funny?” Langdon asked.

“Nothing,” Robby said. He looked back at the kitchen door, as if to search for Alek in his eye-line. “I have to admit I still find it hard to think of it as a disease. It feels like that takes the responsibility completely out of it.”

“The addiction is the disease, and the shitty things we do are the side effects. Responsibility is part of the treatment,” Langdon said. “A pretty big part. Like, the main part, actually.”

Robby looked up at him and sat up straighter. “My dad used to drink a lot. Now that I think about it.”

“Mine too,” Frank replied.

Robby thought back to when he attended Frank’s graduation, and he didn’t recall a dad being there. “I thought your mom was married to another woman.”

“She wasn’t always,” Frank said. He sat down in one of the chairs and swirled the solo cup of water in his hand. “Do you ever worry you’re hopeless to be just like him?”

“All the damn time,” Robby admitted quietly.

“It sucks having a shadow like that hanging over you, doesn’t it?” Frank said.

Robby nodded.

Frank nodded too. He muttered something under his breath about his kids.

“I lied to you, by the way,” Robby said after a moment.

Frank furrowed his brows. “About what?”

“When you came back, you asked about Jake, and I told you he was doing better,” Robby said. “Truth is I have no idea how he’s doing. Not really. I haven’t talked to him since the mass cas. Janey texted me maybe six or seven times in the past, what, eighteen months? Give or take…”

“It wasn’t your fault his girlfriend didn’t make it.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s never anybody’s fault.”

“Seriously, man. On a day like that, you do what you can, but you can’t save everybody. I mean, you can’t save everybody on any day.”

Robby shrugged. “I wanted to be a father to him, I wanted to be a mentor to you, I wanted to help my brother. And I couldn’t cut it. For any of you. I just keep falling short in every relationship. I keep failing everyone I love.”

“You love me?” Langdon said as a big, goofy smile appeared on his face. “I’m flattered, Rob, but I’m married.”

Robby gave him the most exhausted look. “Okay, you can go now.”

Frank held back a snicker. “Not the time?”

“Absolutely not,” Robby said. “And don’t call me Rob. That’s just gross.”

Frank swallowed his amusement. “Alright, sorry,” he said. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “For the record, I think you were and still are a great mentor. And from what I always saw, you were a great dad to Jake, too. Just give him time. Going through something like that would have made him distant from anybody, you know?”

“It’s not just Jake, and it’s not just you. It’s everyone. Everything,” Robby said with a sigh. “I always feel like I’m… Like I’m not worth the air I breathe.”

“Well, what are you worth, then?” Frank asked.

Robby looked up at him. “What?”

“If you’re not worth the air you breathe, what are you worth?” Frank said. “What kind of price would you put on your survival? And what kind of price would someone else put on it?”

“I guess that depends on who you ask.”

“Maybe you should ask Whitaker. You and him are… whatever you are.”

A bit of a smile itched at Robby’s lips. “We're close. We're friends.”

“Friends?” Frank asked, clearly teasing. “If you and Whitaker are friends, what are we?”

“Something else,” Robby said.

“Something else,” Frank repeated. “Something else, indeed.”

“Mind your business,” Robby replied, fondness still dripping from his voice like honey. “Thanks for coming.”

“For sure,” Frank said. He drank the last of his water and stood to discard his cup. “I’m sorry for your loss, even if you… maybe didn’t really lose all that much?”

Robby stood as well. “I appreciate it, Frank. Really.” He offered a friendly handshake.

Frank clasped their hands together loosely, uncertain. “Is this your hint that I should be leaving?”

“Nah…” Robby said as he looked at the clock on the wall and remembered there were still no batteries in it. It probably wasn’t close enough to the end of visiting hours to send him packing without seeming rude. “No, of course not. You can stay as long as you–”

“I know you hate company, man. It’s fine,” Langdon chuckled. He seemed to notice their hands were still held together, so he let go. He took a breath and added, “Maybe you don’t care what I think, but I’m gonna tell you anyways. You’re worth a lot to a lot of people. Including me. You’ll be missed when you go.”

Robby looked down and kind of shook his head. “Missing someone after they die doesn’t really mean much, as I’ve come to learn. Not when you hated them every minute they lived.”

“You think people hate you?”

“I wouldn’t blame them if they did. I’m not always a good person.”

“You still have time to be better.”

Robby couldn’t help but smile. “You’re not even gonna try to tell me I’m not that bad?”

“What good would that do?” Langdon replied. “If I tried, would you listen? That shit’s all subjective anyways.”

Robby chuckled. “You know, you’re a lot smarter than you look.”

“Thanks,” Langdon smiled back. It didn’t take long for it to drop, though. “Hey, wait…”

Robby didn’t let him process that any longer. “Maybe after I’m done with all this,” —he gestured vaguely towards the door to the living room— “we can get together. Get lunch or something. Talk.”

It was almost depressing how brightly Frank’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Yeah, man. Sure.” He cleared his throat and shifted away. “Totally. Uh, let me know, and, uh, yeah, we can get together… When you’re done…” He awkwardly moved away a little more before actually walking out of the room, maybe a little abruptly all things considered.

As Robby watched him leave the kitchen, he kind of realized Jake’s wasn’t the only life he inserted himself into as a pseudo-father figure. This time it was by accident, but the damage was still done.

Maybe he owed Samira a chat too.

Fuck.

Robby walked back into the living room and stood by the door for a few moments, watching the guests converse quietly amongst themselves. He spotted Jack and Dennis sitting on the couch together chatting, looking a bit like they were lost in their own little world.

Obviously, he had to go ruin it.

He walked behind the couch and tapped them both on the top of their heads, getting their attention and looking between them with a tight-lipped smile. “What’cha talking about?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Mikey,” Jack replied playfully. “I’m not stealing your man. We’re just talking.”

“About what?” Robby asked again as he rounded the side of the couch and sat in the chair across from them.

“Nothing, really,” Dennis said with a shrug. “Just chitchat.”

“Something you don’t want me to know about then?” Robby said, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. “Talking shit about me behind my back?”

“No! God, no,” Dennis answered quickly, a wide-eyed and nervous expression flickering across his features. “It wasn’t anything bad, and not about you. It was– We were just–”

“He’s fucking with you,” Jack interjected.

Dennis let out a relieved breath, then gave Jack a playful shove and extended his little scowl over at Robby. “One day I’ll stop falling for your shit.”

“I hope not,” Robby replied, smiling adoringly over at his boy. “It’s always so cute.”

“You can stop patronizing me at any time,” Dennis said, feigning annoyance while struggling to hide the bashfully devious grin on his lips.

Note to self: calling him cute in a condescending tone may garner positive results.

Robby’s own smile only grew as he sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to get close enough to them both. “I’m really glad you guys are here with me. You know you mean a lot to me, don’t you?”

A flash of something akin to concern passed by in Jack’s eyes, but it quickly blinked away as he responded, “Of course we do. And you know that too, right?”

“Of course I do,” Robby said.

For the first time in a long time, it kind of felt true.

Visiting hours came to an end soon enough, and just like before, everyone started to slowly shuffle out while Robby fantasized about being alone. And taking a shower. Oh, how he longed for a shower…

He said his goodbyes, hugging Dennis and Jack and Dana before they headed out, and he thanked all the members of the synagogue for their kindness and generosity. He kept the polite smile on his face until the last old lady made it out the door and he could let out his heavy, exhausted sigh.

What a day.

It got off to a bad start and he had quite a few difficult conversations. Alek and Langdon both. He was a little less angry at Langdon. Alek was still a work in process.

It was all too much to deal with. Too much to think about.

He needed something sweet.

Robby walked back through the house and got some chocolate pudding while Sam and the kids started putting all the food away. Kat came in and sat beside him while he ate it.

“It’s nice to be the one sitting here watching someone else do all the cooking and cleaning,” she commented.

Robby hummed in agreement. “Yeah… You might wanna steer clear of the pudding, by the way.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Langdon’s wife made it. I’m sure she meant well, but there’s really low possibility she had a kosher kitchen,” Robby answered.

Kat looked over at the bowl in his hands and then back up at him as he ate another spoonful. “The pudding you’re eating right now?”

Robby nodded. And then he gave her a big smile.

She responded with a disappointed look.

He brushed her off. “I mostly follow the rules. I get a little fast and loose about surfaces sometimes. I’m a busy guy and that’s a lot to keep track of. But I was kind enough to buy paper plates and plastic utensils for you. You’re welcome.”

“I’m touched, truly,” Kat said sarcastically. A beat passed, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer and more caring. Almost cautious. “How are you doing? Really?”

“Fine,” Robby answered easily. He looked over at her and saw on her face, clear as day, that there was something she wanted to ask. He could make a pretty good guess at what was on her mind, and he definitely didn’t want to talk about it, so he shifted the attention to something else as quickly as possible. “I assume you heard Alek’s news?”

“He’s gonna be a dad, yeah. It’s nice, isn’t it? Exciting,” Kat said. She sighed dramatically. “I’m a little sad that he took his step-dad’s last name. Still no baby Robinavitches.”

Robby gave her an annoyed glare. “Gee, sorry. If I knew it had you so terribly depressed, I would have tried harder not to be such a childless loser.”

“It’s alright,” she said, as if to insinuate that she agreed he was a loser. “I’ve made my peace with the fact that ship has sailed.”

“Has it, though?” Robby said. As soon as those words left his mouth, he regretted it. Because… Seriously. Why the fuck did he say that?

Kat’s shocked look made his entire face flush bright red.

He tried to do some damage control. “I– I didn’t mean– I was just saying–” He hung his head in defeat. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Kat replied, fairly smugly to be honest. “I didn’t know you and that kid were so serious that you’d be considering starting a family. So late in life, too.”

“Fuck off. You were almost fifty when you had Kira. And, what, fifty-two when you had the twins?” Robby said. Again, he realized what he was implying and backtracked. “Not that I’m confirming —or denying, for that matter— any plans of my own. I’m just pointing out the principle.”

“There are reasons I waited so long, Michael,” Kat said.

He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.” He looked over at his niece and nephews helping their dad clean up and gave Kat’s arm a nudge. “I’d say it was worth the wait, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Kat said with a smile as she nudged him back. “Yours will be, too.”

Watching this shining example of a happy family made Robby start to wonder. Worth the wait.

Maybe it really would be.

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