Phil, looking incredibly awkward, stood opposite Luke in the backyard.
Luke, meanwhile, was a bundled mess, wearing multiple layers of clothing, a desperate attempt to cushion the inevitable.
“Buddy…
what are you wearing?” Phil asked, trying to keep a straight face.
“Nothing,” Luke mumbled, trying to look inconspicuous.
“Uh uh.
No jacket, one hat,” Phil instructed, pulling off some of Luke’s layers.
“How many pairs of underwear do you have on?”
Luke squirmed.
“One…
ugh, six.”
Phil sighed, aiming the BB gun.
“I want you to know: I’m not enjoying this, but this is an important lesson that you’re learning, so soak it, keep it.”
Luke flinched as Phil aimed.
“You’re too close.
It’s gonna hurt.”
“It’s supposed to hurt,” Phil replied, trying to sound firm.
“And why are you smiling?” Luke asked, pointing.
Phil’s forced seriousness wavered.
“I’m…
what?”
Claire, fueled by her “good girl” flashback and her children’s manipulative suggestions, was now climbing the stairs with a determined stride.
She stopped outside Hayley’s bedroom door, a look of grim resolve on her face.
Phil, still struggling with the concept of shooting his son, hesitated, the BB gun wavering in his hand.
“Oh, forget it.
I can’t do this.
The point is you’re scared.
I think you’ve learned your lesson-”
Just as he was about to lower the gun, his finger twitched, and the BB gun went off with a soft pop.
“Wow,” Phil said, genuinely surprised.
“Ow!” Luke yelped, clutching his arm.
Claire, hearing Luke’s cry, paused for a split second, then pushed open Hayley’s door and entered.
Hayley, who was indeed lying on her bed next to Dylan, watching a movie, immediately sat bolt upright.
“Mom?
What are you doing?”
“Oh, hey,” Claire said, trying for a casual demeanor, though her eyes were already scanning the room.
“I was just, um, dropping off some laundry.” She held up a single, mismatched sock.
“Is this a bad time?”
Hayley glared at her.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.
Okay.” Claire feigned disappointment, slowly backing out of the room.
“Can you shut the door, please?” Hayley demanded, her voice tight with embarrassment.
Claire paused, one hand on the doorknob, and smiled sweetly.
“Actually, we’re just gonna go ahead and leave that open.”
“Why?” Hayley asked, her voice incredulous.
Claire’s smile didn’t falter.
“Because I have, uh, seen this little show before, lying on the bed with a tall senior.
One moment you’re just friends watching Falcon Crest, and the next you’re lying under the air hockey table with your bra in your pocket.”
Dylan’s eyes widened, a look of utter bewilderment on his face.
“Woah…”
“Mom!” Hayley shrieked, her face a fiery red.
Luke was still rubbing his arm, a fresh round of tears welling up.
“You hit my bone!”
Phil looked genuinely distressed.
“It was an accident!”
“I thought you were my friend!” Luke wailed, feeling betrayed.
“I am your friend!” Phil insisted, trying to comfort him.
Suddenly, Hayley burst out of the house, followed closely by Dylan.
“Dad!
Dad!
Dad, you have got to talk to mom.
She’s, like, completely freaking out and embarrassing me!”
Phil, still flustered from his own BB gun incident, tried to sound reasonable.
“Well, honey, your mom isn’t always as cool about things as I-”
Mid-sentence, a sharp crack echoed, and Dylan yelped.
“Ow!”
Phil stared at the BB gun, which he had been holding loosely.
“What is with this thing?!” He dropped the gun in frustration, and as it hit the ground, it fired one last time.
“Ow!” he cried, clutching his leg.
Up in his attic room, the faint sound of “The Rusty Spoons” playing on a tinny speaker mixed with the distant shouts and yelps from downstairs.
Ethan, seated at his drum kit, a pair of headphones now slung around his neck, had pulled open his window.
He leaned back against his chair, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he savored the cacophony rising from below.
Justice, in his book, tasted suspiciously like Frosted Flakes and the sweet sound of parental mortification.
Later in the night, the entire extended family gathered at Cameron and Mitchell’s house, a festive atmosphere attempting to mask the lingering awkwardness of the day’s events.
“Hey!” the family chorus greeted Cameron and Mitchell as they walked in.
Mitchell, looking stressed but smiling, took a bottle of wine from Phil.
“How are you?
Thank you.”
Claire clapped her hands together.
“Oh, don’t thank us.
Open it; Dad is coming right behind.” As if on cue, the doorbell rang again.
Jay’s gruff voice boomed from the doorway.
“We’re here!
Coming in!”
Mitchell, ever the comedian, offered a sardonic welcome.
“Don’t worry, Dad.
Nothing gay going on here.
May I take your multi-coloured coat and bejewelled cap?”
Jay merely grunted, handing over his flamboyant outerwear.
“Yeah.”
Phil, ever eager to please, greeted his father-in-law.
“Hey, Jay.”
“Gloria, hi.
How are you?
Hi Dad.” Claire hugged her stepmother.
“Hi Gloria.
How are you?
Oh, beautiful dress,” Phil gushed, always quick with a compliment.
“Oh, thank you.
Feel,” Gloria said, gesturing to the fabric.
Phil, misunderstanding completely, immediately reached out and began to run his hand over her dress.
“Okay.”
Claire, mortified, quickly intervened.
“Phil!
That’s how she says ‘Phil’.
Not ‘feel’.
‘Phil’.”
“Oh,” Phil mumbled, retracting his hand, his face turning red.
The awkwardness, however, was immediately overshadowed by a furious cry from Manny.
“You stole my girlfriend!”
Before anyone could react, Manny, a surprising burst of fury for his usually calm demeanor, launched himself at Ethan, who had been lazily leaning against a wall, scrolling through his phone.
Manny tackled him around the waist, knocking the phone from Ethan’s hand and sending them both stumbling.
“What the f-” Ethan started, regaining his balance and trying to push Manny away.
“Let go, baby hippo.”
Mitchell and Phil quickly intervened, pulling the two boys apart, Manny still seething, Ethan merely annoyed.
“What’s his problem?” Ethan asked, dusting off his shirt and retrieving his phone.
Manny pointed an accusing finger.
“You stole my girlfriend!
Brenda Feldman!”
Ethan blinked.
“What?” Then, a flicker of recognition.
“Oh, her, yeah.”
Claire stared at her son, her earlier conversation about his relationship status returning.
“I thought you said you weren’t in a relationship?”
Ethan gave his trademark, unhelpful shrug.
“I didn’t say I was, all I said was I couldn’t answer.”
Jay, attempting to defuse the situation, turned to Mitchell.
“So how was your trip?”
Mitchell, still flustered from the mini-brawl, was grateful for the change of subject.
“It was good.
It was good, actually, but, um, about that…
I…
I have something that I need to tell you guys.
Um…
uh, we didn’t just go to Vietnam for pleasure.
We, uh…
kinda have some big news.”
Jay, ever the pessimist, grumbled, “Oh god, if Cam comes out here with boobs, I’m leaving.”
“Dad…” Claire warned.
Hayley, still slightly miffed, piped up, “I hope he didn’t embarrass you, Mom.”
Claire rolled her eyes.
“Oh, don’t mind her.
Hayley had her first boy over today and…
Phil shot him.”
Mitchell blinked, momentarily distracted.
“…Anyway.
Um…
so about a year ago, Cam and I started feeling this longing, you know, for something more like, uh…
maybe a baby?”
Jay immediately scoffed.
“Oooh, that’s a bad idea.”
Mitchell’s jaw tightened.
“What do you mean ‘bad idea’?”
“Well, kids need a mother,” Jay said, completely oblivious to the hurt he was inflicting.
“I mean, if you two guys are bored, get a dog.”
“We’re not bored, Dad,” Mitchell said, his voice strained.
Gloria, sensing Mitchell’s distress, quickly stepped in.
“I support you, Mitchell, even though you’re not my son.”
Claire, attempting to mediate, or perhaps just to share her own anxieties, added, “I-I-I think what Dad is trying to say is that Mitchell, you’re a little uptight, kids bring chaos and you don’t handle it well.”
Mitchell threw his hands up in exasperation.
“Oh, uh, that’s not what Dad is saying; that’s what you’re saying and it’s insulting in a whole different way.”
Phil, ever the peacemaker, clapped his hands together.
“Okay people, let’s all chillax.”
Alex, ignoring the adult squabble, asked, “Hey, where’s Uncle Cameron?”
Mitchell, grateful for the distraction, gestured wildly.
“Final- thank you.
Thank you.
Someone who’s not insulting me notices he’s not here.”
Jay, mistaking Mitchell’s relief for a different kind of upset, continued his insensitive tirade.
“Aaah, so that’s the big announcement, huh?
You two broke up.
Well, a baby wasn’t gonna help that anyway.
And you know, let me tell you: you’re a lot better off because he was a bit of a drama queen.”
Mitchell’s patience finally snapped.
“Okay, no, no, no, stop!
You come into my house and you insult me and my boyfriend who, by the way, is not that dramatic and-”
Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, and the opening notes of “Circle of Life” from The Lion King began to play, swelling dramatically.
Mitchell’s eyes widened in horror.
“Oh god…”
Cameron, with impeccable timing and a truly theatrical flair, entered from the kitchen, holding a tiny bundled baby high above his head, illuminated by a perfectly placed spotlight that seemed to appear from nowhere.
He posed, beaming, as the music reached its crescendo.
“We adopted a baby.
Her name is Lily.”
“Isn’t it exciting?” Cameron asked, his voice full of joy.
Mitchell, mortified, whispered, “Just turn it off.”
Cameron, still beaming, shook his head.
“I can’t turn it off; it’s who I am.”
Ethan, from the back, deadpanned, “I think he meant the music.”
Cameron, suddenly understanding, chuckled.
“Oh, yes, the music.” He reached for a remote and the music instantly cut out.
“Come say hi to Lily!”
The family rushed forward, oohing and aahing over the tiny infant.
Jay, however, remained standing a little distance away, a complicated expression on his face.
Phil, ever practical, pondered, “Lily.
Isn’t that gonna be hard for her to say?”
Jay cleared his throat, finally stepping forward.
“Um, excuse me.
Okay, I-I know that I said I thought this was a bad idea, but, uh…
what do I know?
I mean, it’s not like I wrote the book on fatherhood.
I’ve been trying all my life to get it right; I’m still screwing up.
Right, Manny?”
Manny, still smarting from the earlier confrontation with Ethan, mumbled, “I wrote a song about it in the car.”
Jay sighed.
“Of course you did.
Uh…
anyway, I’m happy for you and, uh, you should know that, uh, I’m not here to spit in your face; I’m here to blow at your back.” The family looked confused, a collective furrowing of brows.
“It’s supposed to sound better in Spanish.”
Gloria, understanding, repeated the quote, her voice warm and melodious, “No estoy aquí para escupir en tu cara; estoy aquí para soplar a tu espalda.”
“Ah, that’s beautiful,” Cameron said, clearly touched.
“Anyhow, Mitch…” Jay began, a rare softness in his eyes.
Mitchell, emotional, interrupted, “No, Dad, it’s…” He gently took Lily from Cameron’s arms.
“Do you wanna meet Grandpa?”
Jay’s gruff exterior finally crumbled, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“Are you kidding?
She’s one of us now.
Let me see your little podsticker.” He reached out, his big, calloused hand gently touching Lily’s tiny fingers.
“Hey!
You’re a cutie, aren’t you?”