The rhythmic thud of Ethan’s bass drum was finally finding its groove in his attic room.
He had managed to shake off some of his writer’s block, spurred on by the chaotic events of the morning.
A new riff was forming, something angry and melodic.
Suddenly, a sweet, enticing aroma wafted up the stairs.
Cookies.
Freshly baked.
His stomach rumbled in protest, overriding his creative muse.
He followed the scent downstairs, his nose leading him directly to the kitchen counter where a plate of golden-brown cookies sat cooling.
He grabbed one, the chocolate chips still gooey.
Manny, who was now sitting at the counter, meticulously arranging his “Empire” game pieces, looked up, sniffing the air.
“Those cookies smell like heaven.
Your own recipe?”
Claire, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee, smiled faintly.
“No, I just throw them in the oven.”
Manny, undeterred by the lack of culinary effort, nodded sagely.
“And added the secret ingredient of caring?”
Claire chuckled, a genuine laugh.
“Sure.
So, you and Luke having a good time?”
Manny’s face fell slightly.
“I don’t know.
He won’t come out of his box.
Maybe I’ll just stay here and spend some time with my sister.”
Ethan, mid-chew, let out a short, cynical laugh.
Claire, confused, clarified, “Oh, right, I guess, technically, I would be your stepsister.”
Manny, however, shook his head vehemently.
“My mother says we are never to use the word ‘step’ because it means ‘not real,’ and we are a real family, isn’t that right, Nephew?”
Manny turned his earnest gaze to Ethan, who had been trying to silently grab another cookie.
Ethan glared at him, annoyed that Manny’s sentimentality was now infecting him.
“Yeah, whatever,” Ethan mumbled, grabbing the cookie.
Manny, ever perceptive, turned his attention back to Claire.
“So, what is the matter, Claire?”
“What?” Claire asked, surprised.
Ethan, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, echoed, “Yes, Claire, what’s the matter?” His mother shot him a withering glare.
Claire sighed.
“You seem sad.
It’s just stuff with Alex — you know, kid stuff.”
Manny, surprisingly world-weary for his age, sighed dramatically.
“Ugh, kids.
You don’t have to tell me.
My school is full of them.”
Ethan’s amusement faded.
The conversation was veering into territory he actively avoided.
He finished his cookie, mumbled something about a “sick beat,” and retreated back upstairs, leaving Manny and Claire to their profound discussions.
Ethan returned moments later, lured by the promise of more cookies and the faint sound of his mother’s emotional monologue.
He stopped at the entrance to the living room, mouth agape.
What he saw was a full-blown therapy session.
Claire was perched on the arm of the couch, coffee cup in hand, her voice a mix of exasperation and self-reflection.
“Was my mom hard on me growing up?
Yeah, she was, but you know what?” She poured coffee into Manny’s waiting cup, the clink of ceramic almost punctuating her sentence.
“Back then, everything was Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem.
They didn’t understand –”
Just then, the front door opened, and Gloria and Alex walked in, a flurry of shopping bags.
“Hola.
We’re back,” Gloria announced cheerfully.
“Hello,” Alex said, a hint of unusual brightness in her voice.
Claire, flustered but trying to maintain her composure, quickly changed the subject.
“Hey, how’d it go?”
Gloria beamed.
“It was great.
Did you have fun with Luke?”
Manny, ever honest, started, “Well, not –”
Claire cut him off smoothly, a forced smile on her face.
“We had a great time.” She then turned to Alex, a new, conciliatory tone in her voice.
“Alex, I’ve been thinking, and…
If you don’t want to wear a dress to the wedding, it’s not the end of the world.”
Alex, however, surprised them all.
“It’s all right.
I bought one.” She and Gloria exchanged a conspiratorial glance, then both laughed, a genuine, joyful sound.
Claire looked utterly defeated, turning to Manny.
“Do you see how she has to provoke me?”
Manny, playing along, merely said, “We’ll talk about it next week.”
Suddenly, there was a frantic pounding on the front door, followed by Jay’s gruff voice.
“Clear the way.
Coming through.
Coming through.”
Then Phil’s voice, strained and in pain.
“Ow!
Ow!
I need to rest my face.”
“Oh, my God!
Dad!” Claire exclaimed, rushing to the door.
Jay entered, practically dragging a dazed, groaning Phil.
“Little accident.
Nothing big.”
Phil, barely coherent, slurred, “I was in a plane crash.”
Claire looked from Phil’s bruised face to Jay, horrified.
“What happened?”
Jay, ever unconcerned with details, shrugged.
“We were threading the needle, and somebody moved.”
“No, I didn’t!” Phil protested weakly.
“You did it on purpose.”
“That’s the painkiller talking,” Jay dismissed, lowering Phil carefully onto the couch.
“He’s a little loopy.”
Gloria, concerned, asked, “How bad is it?”
Jay, again misinterpreting, began, “Well, the wing is cracked, the propeller’s bent, but I can –”
“I mean Phil,” Gloria clarified, exasperated.
Phil, hearing his name, repeated plaintively, “I was in a plane crash.”
Claire glared at her father.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Jay, defensive, explained, “I didn’t ask him to be there.
He insisted.
He took a chance.
This is what happened.”
Claire scoffed, “Kind of like the time you ran over his foot?”
Manny, wide-eyed, asked, “You ran over his foot?”
“That was an accident,” Jay insisted.
Claire, however, wasn’t buying it.
“You know, Dad, you did it on purpose.
We all saw the tire marks on the lawn.”
Jay grumbled, “I had just quit smoking.”
Phil groaned again, clutching his head.
“See, you’re upsetting your husband,” Jay said, turning to Claire.
“Water,” Phil managed to croak.
“I’ll get it,” Claire said, rushing to the kitchen.
Gloria sighed, shaking her head, as Jay followed Claire into the kitchen.
“You okay?” she asked Phil.
Phil, seizing the opportunity for sympathy, latched onto Gloria.
“Gloria.
Thank God you’re here.”
Manny, ever present, added, “Don’t worry.
I’m here, too.”
Phil, still disoriented, looked at Manny blankly.
“Who’s this?”
Ethan, observing the entire spectacle from his vantage point, couldn’t help but crack a small, sarcastic smile.
“It’s nice to know it’s not serious.”
Suddenly, Phil, in his painkiller-induced haze, reached out and grabbed Ethan, pulling him into a tight, desperate hug.
“Luke, it’s so good to see you,” Phil mumbled, burying his face in Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan struggled, disgusted.
“It’s me, Dad.”
In the kitchen, the argument continued.
“Wasn’t my fault,” Jay insisted, even as Claire went to the fridge.
“Oh, I have seen you thread the needle a million times,” Claire countered, pulling out a bottle of water.
“You never miss.”
“Yeah, I must be getting old,” Jay conceded, reaching for a cookie from the plate on the counter.
“Why don’t you just admit it?” Claire challenged, slapping his hand away.
“You never liked Phil.” She pushed the cookies further away.
“And put that down.
You do not get a cookie.”
Jay sighed.
“I like Phil.
It’s just that sometimes he tries too hard, you know?
And it’s just kind of…
irritating.”
Claire slammed the fridge door shut.
“Okay, maybe he tries too hard because you make zero effort with him.
You know what?
In the 16 years that we’ve been married, have you one time told him that you liked him?”
“Not in those exact words, no,” Jay admitted.
“No, not in any words, Dad!” Claire exclaimed, her voice thick with frustration.
“How do you think that makes me feel?”
They walked back into the living room, the argument still simmering.
Gloria, overhearing, interjected, “You’ve never told your son that you love him?”
Jay, startled, stammered, “Whoa, whoa, when did we jump to ‘love’?
And he’s technically not my son.”
Gloria’s eyes narrowed.
“Ah.
So that means that you don’t love Manny, either?”
Jay, caught in a trap, quickly corrected himself.
“Well, sure I do.
I mean, believe me, when I was in that park, I really wished Manny was there.”
Gloria threw her hands up.
“For what — so that you could fly the plane into his head?
Huh?”
Claire, spotting something in Phil’s hair, walked over and gently plucked out a small, bent piece of metal.
“Dad, thanks so much for bringing Phil home.
I found one of your little flaps in his hair, so…” Claire handed back the piece to Jay.
Jay, ever the mechanic, immediately identified it.
“Actually, this is called an aileron.
It controls the –”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s what matters right now.
Bye, Dad.” Claire pushed him towards the living room.
Jay, defeated, walked over to Phil.
“Hey, Phil.”
“Jay,” Phil mumbled, still dazed.
Jay took a seat next to Phil on the couch, but in doing so, accidentally nudged Phil’s legs.
“Ow!” Phil yelped.
“What, are you made of china?” Jay grumbled, then, taking a deep breath, looked at Phil with a rare sincerity.
“Phil, I just want you to know, I’m sorry.
And whether I missed or you moved –”
“I didn’t,” Phil interrupted weakly.
“Either way…” Jay continued, pushing past the interruption.
“I just want to say that I like you.”
Phil, still woozy, looked up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Jay confirmed, a small, almost imperceptible nod.
“What do you like about me?” Phil pressed, eager for details.
“You’re a nice guy.
You try real hard.”
“I do,” Phil agreed, a small smile forming.
“You’re a good dad.”
“I am a good dad,” Phil said, beaming.
He then reached out, pulling Jay into a surprisingly strong hug.
Jay, stiff as a board, reluctantly reciprocated.
Ethan, still trapped in Phil’s embrace on the other side, was now squished between his dad and grandpa, unable to escape.
“This is just great,” he muttered sarcastically, his face contorted in mild horror.
Phil, oblivious, sighed contentedly.
“This feels so right.”
Just then, the door opened, and Cameron and Mitchell walked in, drawn by the commotion.
“What’s going on?” Cameron asked, taking in the bizarre scene.
Gloria, enjoying the show, explained, “There was a little accident, but Jay’s telling Phil how much he loves him.”
Cameron smiled.
“Oh, well, that’s nice for Phil.”
Mitchell, however, looked indignant.
“That’s great, since he’s never said anything like that to my boyfriend.”
“Let it go,” Cameron advised, sensing the impending family drama.
“No, it’s not okay,” Mitchell insisted.
Gloria, seizing the moment, egged them on.
“Mitch is right.
You go in there, too, Cam.
Come on.”
Jay, horrified, protested, “You’re kidding.”
“Jay!” Gloria warned.
Jay sighed, defeated.
“Come on in, Cam.”
Phil, still in his painkiller-induced euphoria, extended an arm.
“Get in here.”
With a chorus of grunts and groans, Mitchell and Cameron were reluctantly pulled into the group hug, forming a tangled, multi-generational pile of men.
“Say it, say it!” Gloria urged Jay.
Jay, his face a mask of discomfort, mumbled, “I like you, too, Cam.”
Phil, ever curious, asked, “What do you like about him?”
“Oh, geez,” Jay sighed, utterly overwhelmed.
Gloria, meanwhile, had found a camcorder.
“Where did you get that camera?” she asked Mitchell.
“Only the greatest store on Earth,” Mitchell replied, caught up in the moment.
Claire, finally having had enough, looked at her father with a tired smile.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Gloria, positioning the camcorder, called out, “Manny, picture.
Get in there, too.”
Phil, now encompassing everyone in his expansive embrace, pulled Manny into the pile.
“Get in here, Manny.”
Mitchell, despite himself, laughed.
Gloria aimed the camera.
“Say, ‘cheese!'”
Jay, grimacing, muttered, “Don’t push it.”
Together, a squished, uncomfortable chorus of voices managed, “Cheese!”
Cameron, always seeing the beauty in the chaos, exclaimed, “How beautiful!”
“Oh, boy!” Jay mumbled, completely flattened.
Phil, still euphoric, sighed, “Doesn’t it feel like his arms could go around the world?”
Cameron, rubbed his back.
“I think I strained something.” Ethan, however, squeezed in the middle, simply wished for the sweet release of his attic and the solitude of his drum kit.