I had the weirdest dream: Grandma was making me breakfast! I don't think she's done that since I was in preschool.
I wake up and want to tell Sam. That sounds like it's a dream, that Sam is in my naked in my bed and we've had sex three times! But when I open my eyes, Sam has her finger to her lips. Then I hear "Jonathan, are you awake?"
"Oh God, it's real!" I whisper to Sam. She nods. Then I clear my throat and say, "Grandma, is that you?"
"No, it's Martha Stewart."
Sam looks amused, but I shake my head.
"Hey, Grandma, welcome back!" I call, as I jump out of bed and scramble into my pajama bottoms and robe.
"Thank you. It's good to be back."
"Uh, I thought you weren't due back till next month," I say, as I fasten my robe and go to the door, and as Sam dives under the covers.
"Well, I thought it would hold up film production if I stuck around and strangled Norman."
"Oh." I smooth down my bed-head with the back of my less sticky hand and then I open the door, slightly. "Hey, good to see you."
She gives me a once-over and that's the moment I know I'm dog-meat. She'll see it in my eyes. "Good to see you, Dear. Is Sam around?"
I am so dead! "Uh, Sam?"
"Yes, Samantha Micelli-Thomopolous. Your stepsister? The girl from Brooklyn with the wicked slide into second?"
"Uh, yeah, we've met. She's probably in her apartment."
"No, I went there first, to check on her."
"Check on her?"
"She is going through a divorce."
"Oh, right, yeah."
"But she wasn't home."
"Maybe she went for a drive somewhere."
"No, her car's still there."
"Maybe she went for a walk."
"Maybe. Well, if you see her before I do, ask her how she wants her eggs."
"Yeah, I'll do that. Um, I want mine scrambled." Like my head, like my life.
"You got it, Kid." She gives me a quick hug. "And, Jonathan?"
"Yeah, Grandma?"
"Please shower before you come downstairs."
I'm probably blushing from head to toe. I can't reply, so I just nod.
Then she goes into Sam's old room, Grandma's room since Sam married Hank. She probably wants to unpack, or maybe change out of her travel clothes. She looks sharp like always. She has the outfit for any occasion, including almost catching her grandson fooling around with her step-granddaughter.
I shut the door, turn, and see Sam's head peeking out of the covers.
"I don't know about my eggs, but I do know we are toast."
I gesture that she should be quiet because Grandma is next door. She mouths, "Oh," and sits up, but with a blanket pulled up over her beautiful and distracting chest. I go back to the bed, sitting on the foot.
"What are we going to do?" I whisper.
She whispers back, "Shower and get dressed. But not till she goes downstairs."
"You think we should tell her?"
"Jonathan, she knows. And she'll be better about it than Dad and Angela will."
I nod. She's right on both counts. I just didn't want Grandma to find out like this.
There's so much I want to say to Sam, but we can't really talk now. And we'll have to talk to Grandma first. I go back to the door and listen till I hear Grandma leave her room and go downstairs. I look at Sam and ask, "Do you want to shower first?"
She gets out of bed and comes towards me, naked and gorgeous. "You don't want to share a shower?"
She's standing too close and I'm hard again and this is so crazy. "Sam, I'd love to, but we can't!"
"Relax, Snake-boy, I'm just teasing."
"OK."
"I'll go first and you can picture me and then you can take a cold shower."
"Thanks."
"I do want you to take off your robe though."
"Sam!"
"I need to borrow it."
"Oh, OK." I, well, disrobe and she smiles seeing me half-naked and hard again.
She shakes her head. "Guys are amazing."
"And girls are unbelievable!"
"Thank you," she says, although it wasn't necessarily a compliment, then takes the robe and slips it on. It's long on her, but there's still enough of her skin exposed to drive me crazy.
"Just go!"
"OK, but I'll be back." She blows me a kiss as she slips past me and out the door.
I put my head in my hands and wonder how I'm going to get through the rest of the day. Screw that, how am I going to get through the rest of the summer?
Her shower is quick. There were times when she'd oversleep and she could get ready in like five minutes. Tony trained us well. I suddenly picture him saying, "Let's hit it, let's move it, let's do it!" And I shake my head.
"It's all yours," she says when she returns. She reaches into her paper bag and takes out really sexy panties, with not much material, but what there is looks shiny yet soft. "Jonathan?"
"Yeah, right, sorry." I stumble out of my room and to the bathroom, like I did, what was it, twelve hours ago? Right after she gave me the hand-job.
Well, this one I'll have to do myself, and quickly….
…That's better. Yeah, the more things change, the more they stay the same. Well, some things.
When I get back to the bedroom, Sam has put on her cut-offs (presumably with the sexy panties underneath) and one of my old shirts. It's something I outgrew a few years back, a give-away Mom got at an advertising convention, promoting Back to the Future, Part III.
"I hope you don't mind. I didn't bring an extra shirt and this was the only ones of yours that wouldn't be too big on me."
"It's fine." It's not too long on her (I was 14 when I got it), but it is a little tight. Maybe I should suggest she wear something baggier.
"What are you gonna wear?"
I've got just a towel around my waist. "I don't know. You're the fashion diva."
"Do you have anything white?"
"Very funny, Sam."
"Maybe the robe again. With a pipe for that Hugh Hefner touch."
"Come on."
"Jonathan, just put something on. Something ordinary. Mona knows and if we don't get downstairs soon, she might burn the eggs."
"She might do that anyway."
"Who knows? Maybe she's secretly been a brilliant chef all these years and she was just too lazy to tell us."
"No, trust me on this, Sam. My grandmother can't cook."
"Does that mean she won't be baking cookies for us later?"
I laugh and shake my head. "You pick out a shirt for me and I'll do the rest of the outfit."
"OK. I haven't dressed a guy in months. This should be fun."
"Yeah, Hank was a socks & sandals kind of guy before you made him over, wasn't he?"
"No, it was brown socks with black shoes." She shudders and I laugh.
I put on sweatpants but no socks or shoes, since we probably won't be going outside. Sam has her sandals on, probably in case she needs to make a quick escape. And in fact she does say, "Oh, I know! I'll be right back." Then she dashes out of the room. After a couple minutes, I hear her walking over my head, in the attic.
She comes back with a small box of T-shirts. She holds one up and I snort. It's a Petite with Madonna's "Like a Virgin" on it.
"I don't think so."
"How about this one?" She holds up an XL for the University of New Mexico.
"You stole Matt's shirt?"
"I didn't steal it! We were engaged!"
"Isn't a ring more traditional?"
She shakes her head. "It was a memento, something to remember him by."
"And you kept it after you broke up?"
"It was in the attic," she says defensively.
"What else have you got in there? One of Jesse's Greenpeace shirts?"
She blushes and nods.
"Just throw me one of Hank's Muppet shirts and let's be done with this."
She sets down the box. "OK, never mind. I know!" She rummages through my chest of drawers and takes out a white dress shirt and a tie.
"Sam, I'm gonna be interrogated by my grandmother, not going on a job interview!"
"Trust me on this, Jonathan. Put on dress slacks. And underwear. And socks and nice shoes."
I sigh, but I did promise to follow her instructions. And she knows even more about fashion than about sex, but then she's cared about it for a lot longer.
When I'm dressed, she nods approvingly. I look in the mirror. "Sam, I look like I should be going door to door asking people if they've given any thought to the afterlife."
"Exactly. Now give me a couple minutes to raid your mom's closet and I'll meet you in the living room."
"Uh, OK." I have no idea what she's up to. I mean, we should be preparing a serious case to defend our relationship, and she's treating this like a game. On the other hand, I guess this is better than having the conversation with Grandma when we're not fully dressed.
I do what I can with my hair, trying to make it look as respectable as the rest of me. Well, except my eyes. They give everything away. I'd put on sunglasses, but it would spoil the effect. Plus I'd probably look even guiltier, with shades at breakfast.
I notice Mom and Tony's door is closed. I hope she's choosing one of the conservative dresses Mom wore before she fell in love with Tony, although it would be very long on Sam. I think of knocking, but I decide to let Sam surprise me.
I head downstairs, hoping Grandma won't be in the living room. She's not. And Sam shows up a minute later, with pinned-up hair and one of Mom's power outfits. The skirt is just above the knee on Mom, so it's a more respectable length on Sam.
"You like?"
"You look like a lawyer."
"Perfect."
"And I'm your client?"
"Something like that. Come on, let's go get our burnt eggs."
I want to take her hand, but that's probably not a good idea. So I just follow her into the kitchen.
Grandma is still in her travel outfit, except she's changed into more comfortable shoes. Oh, and she's wearing the apron I tore off last night.
"Well, don't you two look nice! Let me guess, Samantha. You've been practicing job interview skills together, and it got late, so Jonathan suggested you just sleep over."
"No, actually, Mona, I took your grandson's virginity."
"How nice for you both. Is scrambled OK, for you, too, Dear?"
Sam and I look at each other and then I say, "Um, Grandma, aren't you going to ask us a million questions?"
She sets down the spatula and sighs. "Jonathan, in the cab to LAX, the cabbie told me about problems with his teenagers. The lady in the plane seat next to mine told me about problems with her daughter. The cabbie from JFK told me about problems with his son. So if you don't mind, I'd like us to all have a pleasant brunch, where I tell sparkling anecdotes about Hollywood. We can save a discussion of family affairs for later."
Sam and I both wince at her choice of words, but we mumble, "Yeah, sure." We take seats at the table, not next to each other of course.
And Grandma does tell sparkling Hollywood anecdotes while she cooks and then eats with us, sitting in the middle. We listen and laugh and shake our heads at the appropriate moments, not saying much.
Sam does interrupt a story about Norman meeting Cher to say, "I told you Mona could cook!"
Grandma laughs. "I'm not exactly a master chef."
"I don't know," I say. "Eggs, bacon, oatmeal, and fruit cups. That's more elaborate than anything we've managed this summer."
"Yes, it's clear that there have been no grown-ups around."
Sam and I both blush, and suddenly I feel like we're just kids playing dress-up, not the mature, responsible young adults she was probably trying to present us as.
Grandma goes back to talking about her summer, including why she wanted to strangle Norman. At this point, I want to strangle him. If he hadn't annoyed Grandma so much, then she wouldn't be sitting here serving us an admittedly great brunch. And I would probably still be in bed with Sam. But I can't dwell on that thought obviously.
When we're done eating, Grandma says, "Well, let's go in the living room and get this Jerry Springer episode started."
I blush again. Yeah, it does sound pretty tawdry on the surface, and she doesn't even know about Sam's pregnancy yet.
Sam sits on the couch. I hesitate and then decide I may as well sit next to her. It's solidarity, in a different way than the time when Sam was babysitting me and I accidentally threw Grandma's earring down the sink and Chad McCann got his arm stuck trying to get it out. Oh, and Sam was not supposed to have boys in the house of course.
Grandma perches on a chair arm, her own arms crossed, looking like a therapist. Well, she does have a degree in Psychology.
"So let me take a guess. You two were left on your own this summer, with Sam reeling from Hank's abandonment. She turned to you, Jonathan, and at first you were a sympathetic ear, and then hormones took over and you ended up in bed."
"Um, not exactly."
"Actually, Mona, first I got drunk and kissed him. He became a sympathetic ear after that."
"Oh, better and better."
"You haven't even heard the big news," I mutter, shaking my head.
"Big news? Oh, I can't wait!"
"Um, I'm pregnant."
Grandma raises her eyebrows. "Really? Fast work, Jonathan."
"It's Hank's," Sam says irritably.
Grandma shakes her head. "This is a Jerry Springer episode."
"Believe me, Grandma, we're well aware of how weird this all is."
"So, Sam, what are you going to do about Hank's little farewell gift?"
"Raise it on my own."
"Really? And, Jonathan, you didn't swoop in and propose to her? You could be the first stepfather in MIT's class of '97."
"Well, she's still technically married." As soon as I say that, I know it's not the right response.
"Ah, right. I think you're not even out of the cooling-off period, are you, Sam?"
"Um, no, it hasn't been 30 days yet."
"And what does Hank think about all this?"
"I haven't told him. I mean about the pregnancy. I'm not going to tell him about Jonathan of course."
"Why not? Show him you're over him."
"Mona."
"Or is this just a rebound?"
"I don't know!" Sam sounds like she's going to cry, and I find myself taking her hand and squeezing it. "I don't know what I'm feeling!"
"Yes, this can be a very confusing experience." I don't know if she means pregnancy or divorce or quasi-incest. But then it's my turn. "And, you, Jonathan? How are you feeling?"
"Um, I'm OK."
"Just OK? After your first time?"
I decide not to mention that I also had my second and third time. "Well, that part was good." I can't say how good. "I mean, obviously when I imagined being deflowered—"
Both Sam and Grandma laugh.
Sam kisses my hand. "Oh, my delicate little flower, I have soiled you!"
"Shut up," I mutter, pulling my hand away from hers.
"No, you shut up," she says automatically.
"I'm glad to see not everything has changed."
"Well, see, that's the thing, even though I have feelings for Sam, we're still the same people."
"What kind of feelings?" Sam and Grandma ask simultaneously.
Blushing, I say, "I don't know either. I mean, I kind of do. God, do I really have to say this out loud?"
"Go on, Jonathan, she'll get it out of you anyway," Sam says, although she's obviously curious herself.
I look down at my lap, really hoping I won't get an erection while I talk about this. "Well, for a long time, I thought Sam was sexy, but I have done my best not to dwell on that, for obvious reasons. But after she kissed me, I had to face it. And I also have emotional feelings for her, because of what she's going through and—"
"You feel sorry for her?"
I look up. "Well, yeah, of course. I mean, not that I've been spending time with her out of pity. I like being with her. I always have, even if it's just hanging out. And then also, um, during sex, I felt, well, it was like emotions were mixed in."
"Especially the last time," Sam says quietly.
Grandma raises her eyebrows again. "The last time? How many weeks has this been going on?"
"No weeks. Not even a day."
"It started last night," Sam admits. "And then we had it twice this morning."
"Well, well, well. Quite the boinkfest!"
"Grandma, it's not just sex, that's what we're saying."
"So what is it? Sam, do you want Jonathan as your boyfriend?"
Now she looks down at her lap. "I don't know. There's a lot going on here. It's hard to sort out. I mean, even if I weren't pregnant and going through a divorce, he's my stepbrother. My younger stepbrother. And even if I wanted to date him I couldn't. Our parents would put a stop to it."
"But you two decided to have a summer fling anyway?"
"Yeah," I mumble.
"Well, now your fling is over, My Dears, because Grandma is putting a stop to it."
We both stare at her.
"You?" Sam says. I'm too speechless to say anything. "Ms. Free Love? Ms. 'If it feels right, do it'? Mrs. Mona Robinson, who's been with how many men?"
"That's beside the point, Sam. I'm old enough to know what I'm doing, and I don't just mean physically. You two are in way over your heads, and if this goes on, it's only going to get messier."
"I guess," she mutters.
"I know. Never having had a stepbrother, I've never slept with one, but I do know messy relationships when I see them. And this is a hell of a mess. So I'm going to recommend a new cooling-off period."
"Cooling off?" Sam asks.
"Yes. What month are you in?"
"The third."
"So the baby's due in January, February?"
"February."
"So it'll be a few months old by next summer."
"Uh, yeah."
"If you two find you really want to pursue this, then wait till next year. Sam will be a divorced mom by then, but hopefully her life will be a little more stable. Jonathan, you'll have another year of college. Maybe you can date some other girls in the meantime, find out if this thing with Sam is what you really want."
"You want us to wait a whole year?" I say. It sounds like forever.
"More like ten months. That's not much to ask, is it?"
"But, Mona, he's still going to be my stepbrother. He's still going to be too young for me. Dad will still want to kill him."
"And Mom will want to kill you," I point out.
"Right."
"I'm not saying it'll be easy. But if this is what you want, what you both want, the best way to find out is to take a break."
We both nod. It makes sense, although I doubt it'll be easy.
"And, Sam, will you please do us all a favor and tell Hank that you're carrying his child?"
"Mona, he left me. He doesn't care."
Grandma looks like she wants to slap Sam. "Samantha, this isn't about you. It's about your baby. He or she has a right to know his or her father. And Hank, however irresponsible he is, has a right to know his child."
Sam nods but doesn't say anything.
"Um, Grandma, is Hank back in California? We think he came back here to file for divorce."
"I'm not keeping tabs on his whereabouts, but, yes, he did return after his little visit to his parents and the court."
"Is he still with her?" Sam asks.
"As far as I know," Grandma says more gently.
"Then I don't want to call him."
"Call his mother. She can pass the word along."
"I am not telling Fran that she's going to be a grandmother!"
"Then tell her that you need Hank to call you."
"OK." Sam understandably does not look like she wants to talk to Hank or his mother.
"So, not to change the subject, Sam, but how are things going on the job-hunting front?"
"Um, I did apply for a job recently but I don't know if I'll get an interview."
"Well, you certainly have the dressed-for-success look down."
"Thank you."
"Though I'd recommend a bra with that outfit. Angela can get away without one sometimes but you can't, especially in your third month."
Sam and I both blush. In my case, it's because I didn't realize she wasn't wearing a bra, and now I can't stop thinking about it.
She says, "Um, I would've borrowed one of Angela's but they were, um, too small. And, um, yours were too big."
Grandma shakes her head. "Maybe this isn't Jerry Springer. Maybe it's Goldilocks."
"Oh, thanks for the porridge by the way, Grandma."
"Of course. Anything for my darling grandchildren."
