A Great-Uncle and Niece Talk

Dipper went to bed, very uncharacteristically for him, while the sun was still half an hour from setting. His headache from the bad fall he'd taken two days before was almost gone, but he insisted that he was going to get up especially early the next morning and do his exercise routine and his run with Wendy—though she'd still have one arm in a sling. "I can tough it out if you can, dude," she'd told him cheerfully. "Side lawn, seven-forty-five. Don't fail me, man!"

To make sure that he wouldn't—and truthfully, because he'd had a lot of trouble sleeping the previous night, when he was still suffering a little from his mild concussion—Dipper went to bed before the sun did.

Grunkle Stan was still at the Shack, keeping an eye on Dipper's convalescence, and Mabel found him sitting on the back porch, sipping a cold soft drink. "Hiya, Pumpkin," he said. "Join me?"

"Sure!" He tossed her four quarters, and she got a Pitt Soda from the vending machine. She hopped onto the saggy old sofa next to her Grunkle. "You feeling OK after the fight?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "Meh, when ya get to be my age, OK is kinda a relative term," he said. "I'll do. I got my chest taped up where some ribs got kinda jarred, and you can see the scratches on my face don't do much to improve my looks. But I always heal fast. How about you, Sweetie?"

"Oh, I didn't get hurt at all, but, well, I'm kinda depressed," she confessed. "This summer has been crazy. Nearly as much as last summer. I've been to some dances and stuff, hung out at the pool a little, you know, but I still haven't had my epic summer romance."

"Give it time, Mabel, give it time," Stan said. "That's somethin' ya got a lot of."

"Dipper's so lucky," she said, kicking her feet. "He's got Wendy."

"So that's a thing, huh?" Stan asked, smiling. "Of course I sort of knew it was. Don't be jealous of what they got, Mabel. Trust me, the good ones always find their soul mates. That's why one of these days you're gonna find exactly the right guy and why I'm a lonely old bachelor! Hah!"

"You're not so bad," Mabel said with a giggle. Then she choked and Stan whacked her back until the pit whizzed from her throat through her lips and out onto the lawn. Waddles found and ate it. "I don't know why they leave the pits in these things," she said, swirling her soda can. "Grunkle Stan? Really and truly, what do you think about Dipper's and Wendy's chances?"

Stan scratched his neck thoughtfully. "If ya want the truth, last summer I thought, pfft! This summer, though—Dip's grown up some, I mean more than just the way you an' him have got so much taller. And sometimes he kinda even loosens up. I like it when the kid laughs. He needs a little bit more of you in him, Pumpkin. That's what he's lackin'." He leaned back. "Ah, but Wendy—I swear ta, uh, gosh, Mabel, if I was like fifty years younger, I'd want to marry her myself. She's lazy as sin, but she's smart and strong and can do darn near anything she sets her mind to. More'n that, you and her have the best hearts of anybody I ever met, period."

He sipped his soda, and Mabel didn't interrupt what seemed to be his flow of thoughts. He belched and then added, "Dipper's gonna need some lookin' after in life, you want to know my opinion, and Wendy's just the girl to do it. So, Dipper and Wendy, last year this time, I'd 'a said no way. This year—" he held out his hand and waggled it—"I gotta give it a big maybe. Here's hopin' it works out, 'cause it would be great for both of 'em. An' I also hope if they're gonna get together, they do it before I check out. I'd love to see that!"

"You're not gonna, uh, check out soon?" Mabel asked, alarm creeping into her tone.

Stan barked a short laugh. "Nah, tryin' not to. Had a physical last spring, so did Ford. Doc figures my brother's good for at least another twenty, twenty-five years, and says I can probably count on a solid twelve or fifteen, anyhow. I'm actually tryin' ta eat better and get some exercise, like Dip. Maybe I can stretch it out a little more."

"When I get married," Mabel said firmly, "you have to be there. I want you and my dad to give me away."

"Deal," Stan said. "But—not Ford?"

Mabel stared down at her toes. "This makes me a horrible person," she muttered, "and it's not that I don't love Grunkle Ford, but—but you're more like me than he is. I love you for that, and, well, you're always my favorite Grunkle."

"You are not horrible." After a pause, Stan added softly, "Don't tell Dip, but you're my favorite, too. You were my favorite from the very first, but after you told me, with tears pourin' outa your eyes, that you trusted me that one time—honey, you're like the daughter I never had."

"Yeah," Mabel said. "But really, Dipper loves you too. I know sometimes he gets mad and flies off the handle, and he's always got his nose in some dumb book, but you're family and he loves you for what you are and for all we've been through together. Still—he's more like Grunkle Ford, isn't he?"

"Sorta," Stan said. "And, yeah, I was kinda like you when I was a kid. Doin' any crazy thing that seemed like fun. Never lose that, Mabel. Never, ever. An' yeah, Dip's a lot like Ford was, a real bookworm. But I think he's even tougher than Ford in a way. And, I dunno how to say it, more rounded? I mean, he's workin' like a dog to build up his muscles, just 'cause he promised Wendy. I love my brother, too, Pumpkin, but between you an' me, I think when Dipper grows up, he's gonna have him beat. Dipper's gonna be a real mensch."

"Sometimes," Mabel said quietly, "I wish you and Ford wouldn't fight so much."

Stan laughed. "Aw, Sweetie, it ain't real fighting. That's just how we communicate. Even when we've been the maddest at each other—and yeah, there've been times—I swear to you that if I was in deep trouble, Ford would haul me out of it or die tryin'. And he knows I'd do the same for him. But, you know, temperament-wise, we're like polar opposites. Ya rub us together, there's gonna be sparks. But fires can warm you up, ya know. They don't hafta burn you."

"Do me a favor?"

"Anything, Mabel. Name it."

"Tell Grunkle Ford you love him?"

Stan crumpled the empty aluminum soda can and tossed it clattering into the recycling box beside the vending machine. "Aw, geez! Give me somethin' easier to do, please! He knows I love him! I mean, didn't I ride that flippin' winged dinosaur, despite my fear of heights, an' didn't I jump right off it and land on that maniac just 'cause I loved Ford enough to help him?"

"Please."

"I give, I give!" Stan said, holding up both hands in surrender. "He's finishin' up somethin' down in his lab. Soon as he comes out, I'll tell him. You'll see."

"Thanks." Mabel frowned. "Grunkle Stan? One more thing—how did Fiddleford make that dinosaur obey you?"

"Well, I tell ya—it involved tyin' a necktie real loosely around its wrinkly gullet."

"The Mind Control Tie!" Mabel said. "Of course!"

"Yeah, but Fiddleford insisted on usin' the remote. He said I'd probably run it into a mountain or somethin'. So I was just along for th' ride. Which, by the way, I hated every flap of. An' my butt still ain't forgiven me. Those monsters don't have comfortable seats on their shoulders, let me tell ya."

Mabel leaned against him, and he put his big arm around her protectively. She, like Dipper, had indeed grown. Last year she would have fit beneath his arm. This year, she rested her cheek against his shoulder. "This is my favorite time of day," she said. In the west the sun had gone out of sight, and the sky was a tapestry of reds and oranges. "It's like a magic curtain about to rise and the world it hides will be new and wonderful and there won't be any trouble there. A little like Mabeland, but without the schmaltz and the eighties music."

"Yeah, I always liked sunsets, too, 'specially over the ocean. Tell ya what, next summer we'll go up to Vancouver and we'll take the Stan O' War II out on the Pacific for a short cruise."

"I love it!"

"Ya don't get seasick, do you?"

"Yeah, I do! But puking is so much fun!"

Stan laughed. "Then we're on for it! Hey, I think that's my brother's voice. Let's see."

Sure enough, a moment later, Stanford Pines stepped out onto the porch. "Sorry, Stanley. I got engrossed in my calculations and didn't notice it was getting late. Are you ready to drive us out to dinner? It's your turn to pay the bill."

"Yeah, Ford, I'm ready. And by the way, brother, I love ya." When Ford just stared at him without speaking, Stan said coaxingly, "Come on—don't ya have something to say to me?"

"Indeed I do, Stanley," Ford replied in a quiet voice. "You're still paying for dinner!"

Mabel watched them walk across the lawn, bickering and chuckling, and thought to herself, One day. One day I'm gonna make them both say it to each other at the same time!

But, she decided, in the meantime she wouldn't hold her breath.

Waddles snuffled up onto the porch, Mabel got off the sofa, and as purple rose into the western sky, the two of them slipped inside the Mystery Shack, ready for sleep and for dreams.