JANUARY
Christmas at the Pines household had been tense. Which they had all anticipated, but that didn't make it easier, especially not for the kids. There had been no raised voices or arguments since the night of the Grunkles' arrival; the parents were usually civil to the great-uncles, who were very polite in return, especially by Stanley's usual standards.
But the excited, joyful atmosphere of last year was nowhere to be found. Mabel and Dipper could relax or have fun with their parents, or with their Grunkles, not both. The moment the two pairs met, it seemed to draw the lightness out of the room.
They'd been prepared for something like that from their mother, but what had caught them by surprise was their father's reaction. Last year, he'd been the buffer between his wife and his uncles when one did something to frustrate the other. This year, those roles had somehow reversed; Mrs Pines was now the one offering quiet words or subject changes whenever her husband looked particularly irate.
Of course, the Stans had told Dipper and Mabel everything that happened that first night, and while they were greatly relieved the men could stay and that they'd be returning to the Falls again, they couldn't help feeling another pang of guilt for continuing to lie and hide things from their Mom and Dad. But as much as it pained them, they knew their parents would never let them near a place so dangerous. And they were too attached to the small town and its inhabitants to ever want to stop going, even if they completely understood why their parents wouldn't agree.
So both pairs of twins agreed the best solution was to bear it for now, stay on their best behaviour, and hopefully with enough time, the parents would manage to forgive them and start treating the men like family again, instead of guests to be tolerated.
Mabel had hoped the spirit of Christmas would spread a little holiday cheer into the home and ease the tension. If anything, it was one of the worst days. Her father sounded disingenuous when thanking his uncles for their gifts, and even sarcastic when they changed into the special holiday sweaters Mabel had made for everyone. It must have been clear that he'd stepped a little too far with that; clearing his throat awkwardly when his wife and son glared at him. Stan and Ford, to their credit, only complimented and thanked a hurt-looking Mabel for her gifts.
After that, Mr Pines behaved a little better. But it was short-lived. By the following morning the feeling of distance had returned.
Frustrated by the lack of familial closeness, Mabel prayed their Hanukkah celebrations would finally bring them together. Of course, Hanukkah had begun on the 27th of November and now it was January, but when was something like chronology ever enough to stop Mabel Pines?
It was with heavy hearts the Grunkles had told them they wouldn't be in California in time for the Festival of Lights this year. Soos' honeymoon conflicted with the journey, and even when Wendy agreed to take care of the Shack instead of Stan they still had to take the time to train her. It was unfortunate, but Dipper and Mabel understood. The Shack was Soos' livelihood after all.
But when Dipper said there was always next year, Mabel took his words a little literally and suggested they celebrate it twice: at the correct time with their parents, then again for a day in January with their Grunkles. The Grunkles were willing and eager, as were the parents - at the time - and Mabel especially looked forward to having a second Hanukkah with her Grunkles. (Dipper had quickly pointed out that, since it was taking place in January, it was technically a very early first Hanukkah, to which Mabel pointed out he was a dork.)
Not that anyone in the Pines family considered themselves religious – Mrs Pines certainly didn't – but the parents had agreed to raise their children secularly and let them figure out their own beliefs as they grew older and support them, if and when required.
Apart from Christmas, the occasional wedding, or raised question or debate, religion was hardly brought up in the Pines household. So it came as a surprise to both parents when a young Mabel suddenly started insisting that if they celebrated Christmas then they should celebrate Hanukkah too. She claimed it was part of their heritage, they should respect the traditions of both parent's families, and that it was a disservice to their grandparents' culture to not honour at least some of their traditions.
Her parents suspected that it was just a way to get more presents and pick and choose whichever Jewish traditions or ceremonies she deemed more 'fun'. And they were completely right. But as Mabel was prone to say whenever she was called out for hypocrisy or using underhanded tactics to get her way: "That's beside the point!"
It wasn't too hard to convince her family, actually: Dipper quickly joined his sister's side (again, for more presents), Mr Pines had rarely celebrated Hanukkah since leaving for college but turned nostalgic for memories of his youth, and Mrs Pines honestly thought it might be fun to try.
Both parents also realised they could just spread the presents across both holidays so it only looked like the kids got more but the amount barely changed. Dipper and Mabel were both very clever and sly, but they sometimes forgot who they inherited those traits from.
So they tried it one year, everyone enjoyed it, and just like that the tradition of celebrating both holidays had continued in the Pines household ever since. They even discussed it further as a family and agreed if their kids wanted to experience other Jewish traditions, they'd accept it. Mabel was keen on taking her parents up on their offer, Dipper less so.
Mabel now avoided any meat that came from pigs (though that only started after she met Waddles), and sporadically added Yiddish words to her vocabulary to express herself further. She even celebrated her Bat Mitzvah with a short cameo to make some blessings, a reading from the Torah, received gifts and blessings from her parents, was pelted with candy from the congregation, and then enjoyed the festive lunch.
She especially liked the hora and even tried to get Waddles to join her on her lap but the pig seemed as unwilling as the humans who'd be lifting him.
Dipper was more indifferent and politely refused the offer of a Bar Mitzvah. His only friends were in Gravity Falls and it would be hard to arrange a gathering convenient for everyone, especially for a ceremony he wasn't comfortable taking part in when he wasn't fully committed to any religion.
Besides, the further Mom was from Wendy, the better for everyone.
Regardless, the kids hoped Hanukkah could do what Christmas couldn't. But if they were honest, it wasn't much hope considering how resistant their normally easy-going father had become when it came to either of the Stans. But Mabel especially would still do her hardest to try and make this the best Hanukkah she could, even if it was only for one day and a month later, diving in with the passion she was infamous for.
She decorated the entire house, replaced some of the usual pictures in the home with those taken during the Stan's last visit, and with Dipper's help spent several hours creating all manners of deep fried food. Most importantly of all, she created a whole scrapbook of pictures and images of Gravity Falls, their friends, and the fun they had there, especially those featuring their Grunkles.
It warmed her heart a little when her father smiled and once even laughed a little at some of their non-paranormal adventures, more like his usual self.
But when the scrapbook was put away and they started the exchanging of gifts, she couldn't help notice the smile was gone again.
"These are for you both," Ford said, handing Mrs Pines a heavy bag for the exchange of gifts. "We found them very useful, and I believe you will too."
"Oh, books!" Mrs Pines cried, looking excited until she read the cover. "Therapy books?"
"Those are Professor Passuum's books!" Mabel chipped in. "I told you she's really good! And expensive," she added emphatically. "I've only browsed them but they're very well-regarded in psychology circles."
"That's…thank you," Mrs Pines said, giving her daughter a puzzled look. It still amazed her how forthcoming Mabel had become about therapy, especially after keeping it hidden from them at the beginning.
Sure, she wouldn't go into specifics of what she discussed with the Professor, but she was very open about the generalities: if she felt she was having a good or a bad day, if the session went well, some of the Professor's advice for her or what she thought she should talk to her friends and family about or request from them.
For someone who put sprinkles on her sandwiches and still had tea parties with her dolls and pets, Mabel could be surprisingly mature for her age.
"Thank you," Mrs Pines repeated, giving them one of the most sincere smiles they'd received from her. "I'll be sure to read them as soon as I can."
"We thought it might be best if we all own the same volumes," Ford explained. "And as Mabel said, they're very educational, and quite advanced. Some therapists or psychologists offer conflicting advice, but if we possess all of the same books by the same person, that would limit any confusion or misunderstandings."
"Yeah, wouldn't want any misunderstandings, would we?" Mr Pines said under his breath.
"Be nice if you thanked them too," Mabel responded, under her own breath.
"That's enough, Mabel."
He was taken aback when she responded with a defiant glare; her reaction even rarer than his snap at her. But frankly, she was getting sick and tired of the snide remarks despite all the effort they were putting in to make things right. And she wasn't the only one.
"Now we'll give you our gifts!" Mrs Pines said, giving her husband a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Hand them over, won't you, darling?"
Not wanting a repeat of his awkward guilt at Christmas - and fully aware of his wife and children's frustration with him - he cleared his throat and reached for the presents. "We had trouble finding gifts for you both again this year," he began. "Especially Stanley since 'money' is a pretty dull gift-"
"I like money!" Stan protested. "It's a great gift! You can hoard it, spend it, wave it in people's faces to make fun of them for not having it – so many options!"
"Uh-huh," his nephew said, sounding impatient. Last year, he made jokes when Stan had asked for cash and called it the perfect gift. Not this year. All the jokes and laughs had been replaced by frustrated grunts and sighs.
"Anyway, I was clearing out Dad's old stuff from a storage container," Mr Pines continued. "Some of it even belonged to Grandpa and Grandma so I thought it would be better going back to both of you instead of just getting rid of it."
"And that way you won't have to fork over any cash for us. Smart!"
Mr Pines rolled his eyes at the joking compliment. Stan made a mental note to maybe keep quiet. He missed last year, when Ford and he had felt more at ease in the home. Now the brothers felt more tolerated than welcome. Not that he could blame them. In a lot of ways, Stan and Ford were being treated with greater hospitality than they deserved.
Still, he missed the feeling of being part of a family again.
"These are yours, we think," Mrs Pines said, passing Ford his gift.
He peeled back the paper and let out a soft chuckle. "My old posters! I remember these! So much inspiration!"
"Oh, cool! You've got some classics!" Dipper said, leaning over for a closer look.
"Yeah, I remember that one," Stan said, picking at one that held images of a giant flying insect. "You made us go see it enough times. Figures you'd like the butterfly more than the fire breathing lizard, Poindexter."
"She's a moth, not a butterfly!" Ford snapped, pulled out of his reminiscing. "A far more fascinating species that doesn't get the attention it deserves! And as you may recall Stanley, that 'butterfly' actually defeated your lizard when they battled and-"
"Oh, come on, he would've wiped the floor with her one-on-one! She couldn't have done it without those giant maggots ganging up on him!"
"She's very pretty," Mabel said, taking the poster and admiring it for herself before their petty squabble could really begin. "Usually only the giant baby monsters are cute. Unless they're anime then it can be fifty-fifty. Is she a good monster?"
"Oh, one of the best!" Ford declared proudly. "Not only has she saved the world multiple times, she was the one who convinced other monsters to stop terrorising humanity, band together, and become saviours in their own right!"
"Sounds like my kind of gal," Mabel smiled.
"And this is for you," Mr Pines told Stan, handing him a square box.
"Nice chain," Stan said, admiring it through the glass case.
"Looks like one of Pa's," Ford said, offering it a glance as he continued leafing through his old posters, showing them to a fascinated Dipper. "Shermie never liked them, said they clashed with his bow ties."
Stan smiled as he membered his brother's unique sense of style, something he'd apparently passed on to his son who was wearing a festive bow-tie of his own. Mabel's fondness for knitting and sweaters may have come from her mother, but her penchant for colourful attire was likely from her father's side, albeit taken to a whole new level.
"Sounds like Dad," Mr Pines agreed. "But apparently this was Grandad's, er, 'swankiest' was the term I think Dad used."
Stan opened the case and pulled the golden medallion out, holding it up to inspect it better. "You know, I have a lot to say about Pa but I can't deny he had a good eye. Always took special care of his chains and-"
The rest of the Pines family slowly looked up, confused by the sudden silence.
Stan stared at the chain with his mouth open and his eyes wide. Then he gave a jolt as he suddenly became aware of the stares. He snatched it from the air, holding it in his lap. "You, uh, you said this was his favourite?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady while looking a bit above his nephew's head, as if scared of meeting his eye.
"Yeah," his nephew answered slowly. "Dad said it was one of Granddad's most prized possessions and wouldn't trade it for anything. Why?"
Stan blinked and looked down at the jewellery, his expression slightly dazed. "No reason." He stood up suddenly. "S'cuse me. Need to make a call," he grunted, easing himself past them with great difficulty and gently cradling the chain in his hands.
"Is he okay?" Dipper asked with concern.
Ford picked up the now empty case and examined it carefully. It took him a while to recall when he'd last seen it, so long ago in his parents' home. And he remembered an adventure from a lifetime ago, of two brothers trying to solve a mystery and ending up running through hell to escape the devil.
"I think he'll be just fine," Ford answered with a faint smile.
Stan stopped in the kitchen to stare at the medallion, away from the others. His finger gently traced the words scrawled on the back: #1 Dad. A child's writing on an adult's prised medallion. Never sold. Never wiped clean, not even decades later and after a fight that tore the family apart.
Stan felt…something. Sadness? Embarrassment? Regret, anger, shame, hope, joy?
Yes. And no.
Most of his life he'd felt mainly resentment towards his father for kicking him out. Even before that, there had been bitterness. For the life of him, he couldn't recall a time when his father had praised him. Maybe that was just because it happened so long ago?
Or maybe those were some of the memories he'd lost when the memory gun had wiped his mind? Ford and everyone had done their best but he knew some memories were gone for good. They couldn't be expected to reveal his entire life story in only a few weeks, could they? Maybe his father's compliments were among those moments only he had witnessed, or without a suitable reminder to bring them back before they were lost forever?
You can't lose what you never had.
Stan gritted his teeth. No. He recalled enough. The impression if not every specific event. The criticisms and wisecracks he'd experienced growing up; painful memories that stabbed his mind every now and then, random and unbidden. Had been that way for decades, the bitterness fuelling him as much as it hurt. Like a sharp pinch that helped him focus when required.
But now…
But now…
Now what?
That bitterness was still there, probably always would be. He'd lived with it for so long, it was a part of him now whether he wanted it to be or not. A few words kept on the back of a chain didn't change the fact that he'd been kicked out of the house at seventeen because of a stupid mistake he regretted to this day.
It didn't make up for the years he'd spent alone, the cold nights, days of scrounging for food, begging from dangerous men, surviving by wit or sheer dumb luck.
No, some writing on a stupid chain changed none of that. In fact, he ought to scrub it clean. Wipe away whatever trace of his father the words held then sell it to see how much Fillbrick's sign of affection was really worth after treating his own son like that. Or better yet throw it away! Show how little the dead man and his stupid opinions really meant to his 'good for nothing' son!
Because would it have killed him to compliment him, even if only now or then? To at least give the impression he was appreciated or valued? When had his father done any of that? Hell, what about something as simple as a damn hug? How the hell was he supposed to know if his father ever loved him if the miserable old man wasn't willing to say or even show some kind of affection?
Like you have with Soos?
Stanley stared at the chain for a long time, holding it tenderly in his hand. Behind the writing, he saw his reflection. Despite trying his best to make himself presentable for the occasion, the man gazing back right now looked old and tired, weary and haggard. Worse yet, he looked like his father.
Taking a deep breath, Stan stepped outside into the cooler air. After thirty years living in Oregon, the Californian winter was definitely a change from the heavy snowfall he had grown used to. In a lot of ways, he preferred this since it meant the cold wouldn't affect his joints and he didn't have to spend so much time and attention on staying warm. But at times he missed the snow and the crunch of it underfoot. Funny that, considering he'd grown up on a beach. Or maybe that was the reason why, an experience different from his childhood?
He emptied his head of such thoughts and pulled out his phone. They were a distraction to delay the call, and if he didn't do it now, he'd never do it. Actually, maybe he shouldn't do it. It was ringing out, he was probably busy. Yeah, busy. Probably too busy to answer. He didn't even know what he was going to say, he should just hang up, call later when his head was clearer and he actually had an idea of what he-
"Hey, Mister Pines!" Soos' cheerful voice rang out. "Happy Hanukkah, dude! How's it going, everyone having a blast?"
"Yeah, it's a real…uh, blast." He winced. He couldn't even think of a different word, his mind felt so frazzled.
"Aw, great! Dipper and Mabel enjoying their presents? Uh, should I have gotten them something, or is that, like, offensive, dude? Oh no! Is that why you called? Because if it is, I can-"
"Nah, nah, you're fine, Soos," Stan said impatiently.
Tell him he's better than fine.
"Uh, yeah, so everyone's doing great," Stan grunted, trying to ignore the voice in his head as he gathered the courage. "Uh, how's things? Melody alright? How's your grandmother?"
"Oh, we're great too, thanks for asking. I mean Abuelita's a bit sleepy right now 'cause the winter makes her joints sore so she needs to rest but I bought some heaters for her and some extra blankets and now she's sitting super cosy in the living room in front of her TV. She's, like, super comfy there, and she's got all these telenovelas she's bingeing and - oh, wait, totally forgot to tell you. See this thing happened like, yesterday - or was it Thursday? Wait, was yesterday Thursday or is today Thursday? Does that mean it happened last week? Or-"
Stan let him continue for several minutes, his frustration growing, and not due to his former colleague's rambling tale. It was the voice in his head pestering him, and his own inability to meet its demands.
Say it.
"Right, so then, just as I got there, Reggie came out with the most hilarious thing, right? He said - you'll love this! - he said - shoot, I totally forgot what he said. Hang on, let me start over. So, on Thursday-"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it was hilarious," Stan growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I didn't call to hear about Reggie, I just called to say…"
Say it.
"I wanted to tell you…"
Say it.
"You're…That I…"
Say it!
"I just wanted to wish you a happy Hanukkah!" Stan shouted, his voice echoing in the silence that followed.
"Aw, that's super nice of you, dude!" Soos' oblivious voice replied. "Happy Hanukkah to you too! Oh, wait, did I already say that? I'm sure I did, but just in case. And same to Ford and Dipper and Mabel and their parents!"
"Yeah, I'll tell them," Stan muttered, the heel of his hand pressing into his eye. "Anyway, better go - more stuff to do, say hi to the wife and Abuelita for me."
"Will do, Stan! You have a -"
He hung up, both hands now pressing against his eyes and dropping to his knees as he groaned at his own failure.
Coward.
"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, I know."
He dragged his hands down his face and looked at the phone on the grass. He slowly picked it and held it in front of him, closing his eyes.
"I called to say…I'm sorry Soos. For not treating you better. For criticising you so much and ignoring you when all you ever did was try. I should have given you more attention, told you how good you were at your job and how important you were to the Shack…and me.
"You were a good kid, Soos. Didn't matter what life threw at you, you never let that stop you from trying to be the best man you could be. And that…that took strength. Real strength. I wish…I wish I had that strength, Soos. Because if I did, then maybe I wouldn't have caused so much trouble for my family. Maybe I could tell you how grateful I am. For everything you've done for me and my family.
"Your Ma would be so proud of you, son. I know I am."
The phone stayed silent. Stan couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed.
"Hey."
Stan jumped a little at the voice and turned to see his nephew watching from the doorway. "How long have you been there?" he asked, getting to his feet.
The younger man shrugged. "Around the shout? Came to see what was wrong. I think I can guess after hearing the rest."
Stan winced but remained silent, not sure what to say.
It didn't look like his nephew did either; he looked uncomfortable, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in a very Dipper-like way. "So, that was the famous Soos on the line?" he asked eventually. "Mabel and Dipper talk about him all the time. He's your employee, right?"
"Former," Stan corrected. "I'm retired, Shack's his now."
Mr Pines nodded. "Right. They told me about that. Giving the Shack to him because you thought he'd be the perfect replacement. Even took him under your wing when his deadbeat dad wouldn't visit him. That he's like a son to you."
"I never said that."
"But you want to."
Stan looked away.
Mr Pines let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck again. "You know…I tell my kids I love them all the time. 'Cause Dad told me he loved me all the time. But he used to laugh and say how rare that was for someone of his generation. That Grandad never did. Probably because his dad didn't either. But Dad always knew Grandad still loved him. And not just him. He knew Grandad loved all of his sons, even if he never said it."
Stan scoffed, decades of anger and resentment threatening to bubble to the surface. "Oh, yeah? And how the hell was Shermie so sure about that?"
Mr Pines said nothing at first. He merely reached for the chain hanging from Stan's pocket and held it up between them. And he thought of all the praise his children had lavished on the man in front of him. Of the time and effort a busy cheapskate like Stan had spent on raising those children for months when his life probably would have been so simpler if he'd said no. Of the time he still wanted to spend with them, despite only reuniting with his lost brother last year, and the small fortune he was happy to spend so that Mabel's therapy sessions would continue.
"Because sometimes, even if we can't say outright how important someone is to us, our actions can speak volumes."
Stan felt the anger fade as he looked at the words written on the chain. He stared at it, remembering his earlier decision to sell or discard it, just to spite his father's shadow.
He reached for a handkerchief and, with great care, took it from his nephew, making sure not to smudge the writing as he gently cradled it in his hand.
Mr Pines smiled, maybe the first real smile he'd given since that night Stan and Ford had arrived. "Come on, Uncle Stan," he said, putting an arm around his favourite uncle's shoulder and leading him back inside. "Family should be together on Hanukkah."
"What are you so happy about?" Melody asked as Soos joined her and Abuelita in the living room.
"I dunno, maybe nothing," he shrugged but couldn't help continue to grin as he returned to his spot under the blanket so they could watch the television together. "It was just - Mister Pines called to wish us all a happy Hanukkah and - and I just got this weird feeling, you know? Like it was his way of saying he was proud of me or something. Ah, that probably sounds dumb-"
"It's not dumb!" Melody said, sipping her coco. "That's just Stan being Stan. We all know how he really feels about you, Soos, even if he can't bring himself to say it."
"Si, mi precioso," Abuelita agreed. "Stan is very proud of the man you have become." She put a hand on his arm. "Y también tu madre."
Soos nodded, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. "Gracias, Abuelita."
Then they all settled down, enjoying each other's company for the rest of the day, just as another family they knew finally did the same.
Author's note: I've been thinking of giving this series a name. Rather than just continuing with Third Summer, Fourth Summer, Final Summer. After discussing it with some people, I was considering: 'Repercussions of Past and Future.' What do you all think?
