Chapter Text
Chapter 4: Sprout
ChristmasHam
Jesminder threw up six mornings in a row, unable to hold anything down but saltines and water.
At first, Shane swore it was the weird little restaurant they’d wandered into one night when he didn’t want to be recognized. By the third day, Jack was cursing the flu, rubbing her back and holding her hair for her while she dry-heaved for hours. They made her broth to sip on, bought her saltines, gave her those little ginger chews. Nothing seemed to help. It was the first time Shane had ever seen Jesminder look genuinely weak.
It wasn’t ‘til a week later, after practice, that he came home to find Jes and Jack on the bathroom floor. Jesminder hugging the toilet laughing hysterically, in between dry-heaves. Jack hovering, looking concerned, no idea how to help whatever it was that had spiraled out of control.
Shane rushed in and dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing her cheeks. “Why are you laughing?” He asked.
“Us. The three of us. We’re all fucking idiots.” Shane and Jack shared a look, she wasn’t wrong but with them they needed specificity.
“I’m fucking pregnant.”
The silence that surrounded that statement was heavy. Pregnant. She was pregnant. Shane remembers that night, Valentine's day.
“I mean, obviously. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it,” She paused, gagged over the toilet, “before.” Shane rubbed her back.
“This…seems a little extreme for pregnancy, doesn’t it?” Jack said, running his hands through his hair.
“It’s called hyperemesis. It happens. I’ve got it. Whatever. We need to schedule an ob/gyn appointment.” Jesminder sat back against the cool porcelain of their bath-tub taking in a breath. “Fuck. I should’ve known I, of all people, would get hit with this.”
Shane frowned. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to...move even really. He just watched her, in some kind of shock. Pregnant. Fuck. Fuck shit fuck. He thought of today, earlier in the gym when his physical therapist pointed out his knee would likely get worse through the rest of his life, they would only be able to slow things down. And fuck did Shane feel that. His age suddenly seemed huge. His wounds suddenly seemed huge.
He looked at Jack, knowing his own face had that 100 mile stare. Jack was tearing up, but he smiled sadly at Shane. Jack knew what this would feel like to him.
……….
“Hey!” The yell startled Shane, but he looked up, moving from his position in a squat, to standing, still holding the worm he’d found in the dirt. “Hey kid, what’re you doing?”
Shane wanted to shrink. Most kids his age didn’t like to talk to him.
“Hi.” He said flatly, drawing circles in the dirt with the stick he held.
The other child approached him, apparently unaware of personal space. Shane’s stomach gnarled in a tight nervous knot but he didn’t move back. He didn’t want to seem rude.
“Ew, is that a worm?” The other kid asked, pointing into Shane’s palm.
Shane held it out, “Yeah. They’re not gross, though, people just think that.”
“My friend says if you eat a whole handful of worms you’ll turn into a bird.” The kid said it with such confidence, so sure of himself.
Shane tried not to laugh, but a smile slipped out none-the-less.“Your friend is a liar.” He said easily. As soon as the words left his mouth he bit his tongue. It was comments like that which kept getting him sent to detention. But this kid just laughed.
“Yeah, he’s a dumbass.” Jack agreed. Shane grinned. He liked that there was another kid who said words his teachers called bad. “So, why are you playing with a worm?”
“I don’t know...nothing else to do.” He looked back at his house, knowing what waited for him inside. Shane crouched down, carefully placing the worm back in the wettest soil he could find before wiping his hands off on his jeans.The other kid watched.
“Oh, well, don’t you have Sega? Or Nintendo?” Shane’s mouth went dry. He looked back down at the hole he was slowly digging in the dirt.
“No,” he answered, embarrassed.
Shane didn’t have anything like that. They didn’t even have a VCR. Honestly, Shane was surprised they even still had a TV. Everything they could his parents sold. Once, Shane and his school had been forced to put on one of those stupid fundraisers where they sold wrapping paper and Winter Star decorations. He actually did a pretty decent job selling what they had out of the catalogs. He went around the neighborhood and pointed out the products to each person. A dozen people bought something, and when he went home he held more than a hundred dollars in an envelope for the fundraiser. That meant he’d get a gridball, or a jump rope if he wanted.
But when he woke up early the next day, excited to show his teacher how hard he’d worked, he found the envelope empty.There was a six pack in the fridge though, and a carton of cigarettes on the kitchen table. He got a can of spaghetti-o’s and meatballs out of it. His favorite. His neighbors hounded him for weeks about where the money went. Until finally it got around.
His parents had taken it, of course. For beer, drugs, cigarettes-whatever. There wasn’t a thing Shane could do about it, and from then on his neighbors left him alone.
Words like “Sega” and “PlayStation” or even “Barbie” barely meant anything to him. Gridball? Maybe. His dad had a decent arm, taught him how to throw. Worms? Mice? Birds? Rats, even? That was interesting. He could watch animals or bugs all day. He knew his neighborhood crows by the colors in their feathers or the expressions on their faces. They knew him by the crusts of cheap bread or bologna he’d bring them. Once, they brought him a present, just a shiny metal bottlecap, but he knew it was for him. Shane knew the rats by their markings, and they weren’t afraid of him. Sometimes, he even recognized a pill bug. He kept spiders in jars and watched them build nests, bringing them bits of food here and there.
Shane understood animals, he understood bugs. PlayStation, however, was foreign.
Though, that didn’t stop his excitement when the kid said: “Well, I have Nintendo and Sega. Want to play Donkey Kong?”
“Okay…” Shane’s face was hot.
He was hardly ever invited over to other kids’ houses. He was quiet, and he heard some people say he was mean. Shane got into fights. He didn’t like when kids talked about his dad. Shane didn’t like his dad either, but when the other kids talked about his old man it felt like they were talking about Shane. Maybe he was. Maybe he was mean. He didn’t seem to know how to be polite the way other people did. And frankly Shane was short, if he didn’t hit first, who knows how hard he'd go down.
“I’m Jack.” The kid said.
He didn’t hold out his hand or even really introduce himself, besides that. It was like Jack was just giving him the word that Shane should call him. Nothing behind it, nothing special. Just Jack.
“I’m Shane.” He tried to match the attitude.
They walked along the sidewalk, towards Jack’s apartment. A couple kids across the street were playing with jump ropes. Shane had seen them before. He loved to watch the double-dutch, listen to the rhymes, watch the rhythm of the steps they took. He liked to watch the girls too, but if anyone asked him about that he’d just say ‘Ew’. Which is why he was so shocked when one of them came running over.
“HEY JACK!” A girl with braids and golden skin hollered. She seemed to know Jack. Jack seemed to know her too. Her knees were covered with bandages, she wore these overalls and a pair of bright pink shoes with Barbie on them, and a pair of socks frilled with lace.
And Shane was pretty sure he loved her right then.
He stood back, behind Jack, too shy to say anything. “Hi Jes! This is Shane, we’re gonna go play Nintendo wanna come?”
“Only if we play Mario Kart!” She said, with a sideways smile that knocked Shane off his axis.
Jack lived in one of those apartments that were all...nice. It was made of brick and there wasn’t garbage or old fridges stacked outside or cigarette butts on the porch. There were flower pots, and neat clean metal garbage cans.
Shane felt gross. Like he was too dirty to be there. He wanted to change his clothes, and he noticed, against the smell of baking bread and something sweet like flowers, how he smelled sour and smokey and kind of dirty.
“You can take your shoes off there!” Jack pointed to a nicely organized pile right by the door.
Jes kicked her own shoes off and zoomed through the hallway, running to a stop to slide across the glossy wood floors.
“Um...can I-can I keep mine on?” Jack and Jes looked back at him.
“Oh uh-," Jack hesitated, looking at Shane’s shoes.
They were old and dirty. There were holes in the toes, and cement grime on the soles. But worse was what was inside. Shane knew his feet stunk. He hadn’t had a clean pair of socks to wear in...well he couldn’t remember. His face was hot and embarrassed, bright red.
Jack's eyes flicked back up to Shane’s. “Yeah, that’s okay! I’ll tell my mom you have like a sixth toe or something if she asks.”
Shane smiled softly, and followed them into the living room.
They played for hours. After about thirty minutes of Jes teasing him within an inch of his life Shane began to open up, teasing her back, even as he stuttered on the punchlines. Jack kept choosing Donkey Kong, even when they were playing Mario Kart. Jes faithfully chose Yoshi, becoming angry when anyone even came close to insinuating they might choose them. And Shane? Shane chose Bowser. Afterall, what was cooler than a turtle with spikes on its back? Shane was terrible. Awful. He didn’t care at all. He lost every single time all the way in twelfth place. Jack and Jes nicknamed him Caboose. Jack's mom brought them out a snack of popcorn and apple juice halfway through. Jack even spilled popcorn on the floor and his mom didn’t yell.
Shane wanted to stay at Jack’s forever.
“Thank you for the popcorn, Mrs. Stanley.” Shane said quietly as he washed his hands. He didn’t want to get his ‘damn salty butter-greasy kid hands’ all over their nice furniture.
“You’re very welcome, Shane.” Mrs. Stanley sat down at the kitchen table, Shane carefully hand-washed his glass from the apple juice. He felt her watching him, his eyes darting from the task at hand to her again. Was he not washing the glass right? Was she thinking how he was wearing his shoes inside and tracking in dirt? Was she annoyed that he smelled like cigarettes?
“You know, Shane…Jack is so excited to have a new friend over today. I was thinking, maybe, if it’s alright with your parents? You might stay and have dinner with us? We’re having Jack’s favorite: tuna casserole.” Shane froze in place.
He didn’t know what to say. His parents were probably already half-way drunk by now, or gone out to a bar, or the casino, or maybe even asleep. They wouldn’t know or care if he wasn’t there. But Shane didn’t want Mrs. Stanley to know that. For some reason Shane couldn’t quite reason out, he wanted Mrs. Stanley to think he was as normal as possible.
“I’d like to very much.” Shane said, “Can I use your phone to call my dad?” Mrs. Stanley smiled and stood up, walking him to the rotary phone mounted to the wall.
Shane entered a nonsense number, let the line go dead, then had a fake conversation with his ‘dad’. Mrs. Stanley and Jack were thrilled. Jesminder was jealous.
“Baba keeps me for wali daawat on Sunday. He says we shouldn't give up on our traditions.” She did the last part in an exasperated voice, and Shane laughed maybe too hard, his breath catching.
“That’s good advice.” Mrs. Stanley agreed, smiling along with Shane and Jack.
They waved Jes off, all promising to meet for video games again soon, Shane making Jesminder promise to teach him to double dutch, and Jack asking if they could ride bikes.
Jack and his family: Mrs. Stanley, Mr. Stanley, treated Shane like he belonged. They asked him questions about his life, but never any scary ones. They told him all about what Mr. Stanley did for work and how Jack was excellent in maths and liked making films at home for fun.
It was the first of many nights Shane stayed with the Stanleys. By the time he reached thirteen, he was unofficially living there with all the time time he and Jes spent with Jack. By sixteen, after a fistfight with his old man, he officially moved in.
………..
They sat Jes down on the couch. Jack brushed her hair behind her ears, while Shane rubbed her feet.
“Ugh. It’s like being hungover constantly.” Jesminder complained. “I’m supposed to do this for nine months?”
“It gets better,” Jack reminded her, “In the second trimester it’ll calm down. And until then maybe the doctor can give you something to help.” She grumbled but settled further into their warmth.
Shane put all his attention into rubbing her feet. She had gorgeous feet, a high arch, toes painted a deep purple. He wanted to take one into his mouth but figured now was probably not the appropriate time for that. He thought back to what they’d talked about, that night on Valentines day. Cool Uncle Shane. Chill Uncle Shane. Yeah. Yeah he could do that. Hell ‘Famous Uncle Shane’, even if his star continued to rise. He was careful with that thought, you never knew what the field had in store for you.
Then he had another thought, a darker one. He remembered his father bringing him gifts, after especially harsh beatings. He remembered manic energy from his mother when she’d worked a long shift. Alcoholic Uncle Shane. Coke-head Uncle Shane. Dangerous Uncle Shane. He swallowed, trying not to think it. Trying not to imagine all the ways he could end up just like the man he hated the most in this world.
“Y’know what I can’t wait for?” Jack said suddenly, absolutely beaming, “‘Til your ankles swell up.” Jes elbowed him.
“Gee, thanks Jack. Why the fuck would you be excited for that?"
"I don't know...I just remember my mom talking about her ankles swelling up when she was pregnant with me."
"You know that can be dangerous right? Like, it's a sign of pre-eclampsia." Jes said with a scowl.
"Oh." Jack's face fell.
Shane had gone so quiet, his gaze so far off, that Jes caught it and pulled him back with a question, if only the question hadn't been the wrong one, “What about you, Shane? What are you excited for?”
Shane huffed a laugh, “To all my sleep-filled nights, and sex crazed weekends, while you two slowly become drained by a tiny parasite.” He said it, anger twisting in his gut with his memories, and instantly regretted it.
Jes froze and pulled her feet away from him. She caught herself on the side of the couch when her world went dizzy. “Dude. What the hell?” She asked, point blank.
Shane was caught. His mouth hung open. Yoba he’d kill for a beer right about now. Jack put a hand on his knee, looking at him so soft that Shane deflated.
“I’m fucking terrified.” Shane whispered.
That stopped up both Jes and Jack. They curled around him, Jes, into his lap, Jack with his arms around his waist. They held him, kissed his cheeks with loud embarrassing noises until he cracked a smile.
“You are not like him.” Jack said quietly.
“Well…I am.” Shane argued with a roll of his eyes.
“Okay then, you’re better than him. You can still be alike and be better.” Jack conceded. Shane smiled sadly.
He wasn’t sure if either would ever understand, but he was grateful they didn't. He kissed Jack tenderly on the lips, then Jesminder on the neck and put a hand over her stomach where apparently something had sprouted.