Shermie was exhausted. This was the third night in a row that he was working a double shift, and he didn't think he'd gotten more than twelve hours of sleep in that time. He just wanted to go home, eat a hot meal, and sleep for a week.
He kept working though. He had to. He had a new son, and a wife living on the other side of the country, waiting for him to save enough to join her. He was almost there, but it had been a tiring past few weeks.
When they'd first gotten married, Shermie and Olivia had told themselves that they would take it slow. They would live in a small apartment in New Jersey until they'd saved enough to get a place of their very own, and then they would talk about starting a family.
And then Olivia had gotten pregnant.
They loved Alex with everything they had, but they hadn't been ready for him. The pregnancy had been hard on Olivia, and she couldn't work for the last five months of it.
Shortly after Alex was born, Olivia got a job offer. They'd been thinking of moving to the west coast, and she'd looked for apprenticeships there, but they hadn't imagined that it would pan out so soon.
This apprenticeship would open a lot of doors for her in the future, and it was something she couldn't pass up. So while Olivia went to California, Shermie and Alex stayed behind. He worked more hours, and his mom helped with the baby.
It wasn't an ideal situation. Shermie was sick of Jersey, and he missed his wife. He was tired all the time, and most days it was tempting to accept his mom's offer to watch Alex full time, just so he could get some sleep
But Shermie knew how slippery a slope it could be for a father. He'd seen it with his own. It had started with his dad claiming to be too tired after work to put Shermie to bed, and after years it had developed to a point that it was nothing short of neglect.
Shermie was determined not to be like his father. He would wake up to deal with the baby. He'd change the diapers, and deal with the messes, and the scraped knees, and the bad dreams. He would be a dad that his son knew he could count on.
Even if it meant feeling like a dead man walking.
Shermie groaned and sunk into a chair in the break room. He had twenty minutes to eat something and rest his feet, but then he had another four hours left in his shift.
It felt like forever, and seemed impossible. The only things keeping him going was that he was more than halfway through the night, and if he could get this far then he could see it through. His family was counting on him. He couldn't let them down.
Besides, he didn't work tomorrow morning, and if Alex had a good night, then maybe he could sleep in. Wouldn't that be nice?
Shermie had just been sitting for a few minutes when his supervisor walked into the room. He made eye contact with Shermie, and he was terrified that he was going to be asked to take on another shift, or that he would be told that he had forgotten something and needed to go right back to work.
"Pines," His supervisor said. He didn't look mad or apologetic, but there was a look in his eyes that made Shermie cautious. "There's a call for you in the office."
Feeling even more dread than he had when he thought there was more work to do, Shermie hurried to his boss's office. He was terrified of who was calling him.
People didn't call his work for a casual chat. If they were calling him at work, it was serious. He could think of only a handful of people who it could be, and none of the situations were good.
His boss was gracious enough to allow him privacy as he answered the phone.
"Hello?" Shermie tried to keep his panic out of his tone. "Sherman Pines speaking."
He heard harsh breathing on the other end, and what sounded like a choked sob. His fear grew as he waited for the other person to calm down enough to speak.
"S-Shermie." He heard the shaky and vulnerable voice of his youngest brother.
"Stan?" Shermie clutched the phone tightly. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is something wrong?"
"I messed up." Stan said desperately. He sounded like he was crying. Shermie couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Stan cry. "I messed up, and Ford hates me, and Dad-" Stan trailed off with a whimper.
"I don't know what to do, Sherm. What am I supposed to do?!" Stan cried.
"Stan, calm down." Shermie said. His brother was breathing so harshly that he sounded like he was going to faint. "You need to breath."
"I can't-"
"You can." Shermie said insistently. He sat down. "Now, are you at a bar? Or a police station?" It wouldn't be the first time that Stan had snuck into a bar or a party that he was too young for. It wouldn't even be the first time that he'd been brought in by the police.
Shermie was always the one to bail him out and cover for him, because Stan was terrified of what their parents would do. Shermie would rather his brother not get in trouble at all, but if he did, he wanted Stan to know that he could always call him. He needed his brother to know that he had a lifeline if he got in too deep.
"No." Stan said, and Shermie immediately felt a weight off his shoulders. Stan was obviously in trouble, but at least it was probably just with their family.
"What happened?" Shermie asked, because he still has no clue. To his alarm, Stan started to outright bawl as he rambled on about something. Shermie was able to catch the words Ford, school, Pa, and money, but that was about it.
Still, Shermie had an idea of what had happened, and he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.
"Did you and Ford get into a fight?" Shermie asked tiredly. Stan made a sound of confirmation, and Shermie barely refrained from groaning.
He'd seen this coming. Things had been getting more and more tense between Stan and Ford this past year, though they would both deny it. It had been especially bad these past few weeks. Shermie had just been waiting for the other pin to drop, and apparently it finally had.
"Okay, here's what you're going to do." Shermie said. "Go home." He knew Stan had to be out and about, because he wouldn't dare be so emotional when there was the possibility that Pa could hear him.
Stan made a wounded sound. "I can't."
"Stan, I know you think you can take care of yourself, but it's getting late, and the streets are dangerous for anybody at night. Especially someone who's alone."
Stan was quiet for a long moment, save for his gasping breaths. "C-can I stay at your place tonight? P-please?" Shermie froze when he heard that word. He knew how much Stan hated it. He had to be beyond desperate.
Shermie wanted to agree. In fact, he had almost made the offer himself. There had been a number of times when Stan, for one reason or another, felt that he had to spend the night out of the house.
Shermie always used to invite him to his apartment, just so he could know that his brother had a roof over his head, a hot meal, and a listening ear when he calmed down. He thought it was good for Stan. Their parents disagreed.
Ma scolded Shermie for encouraging Stan's bad habits. Pa scoffed and said that he was coddling Stan. Normally, Shermie wouldn't care what his parents said. He could handle their disappointment. Right now though, he couldn't risk it.
Ma did so much to take care of Alex. And Pa was paying a third of Shermie's rent, albeit reluctantly and with the understanding that it would be paid back with interest.
Shermie was relying on his parents, and so we're Olivia and Alex. He couldn't afford to risk getting on their bad side.
"I can't," Shermie said reluctantly. He hated the sobbing sound that Stan made at his denial.
"I'll tell you what," Shermie said, just to get his younger brother to stop crying. "Go home. Sleep on the couch if you can't face Ford, or bunk in my old room. I'm sure Ma and Alex wouldn't mind sharing."
Pa didn't like to be woken by the baby, so Shermie's old room had been turned into a makeshift nursery. Ma stayed there with Alex most nights. Shermie was sure she would be happy to let Stan take her place for the night.
"In the morning, I'll take you to that diner that Pa hates." Shermie said. He didn't really want to spend that kind of money, but more than that he didn't want to hear his little brother cry like his world was falling apart around him. "We can talk more then, okay?"
"Just one night." Stan said in his bargaining tone, desperate to make a deal. "I can just stay one night. You won't even know I'm there. A-and then I'll be out of your hair."
Shermie felt bad for Stan, but he was also getting annoyed with him. Why did he have to be so stubborn? Was he really so scared of facing Ford that he would rather bury his head and hide from his problems than actually face them?
"Stanley, you're not staying with me tonight." Shermie said in a stern tone of voice that he hated, because it reminded him of Pa. "I can't hold your hand and fight your battles for you forever."
Shermie was tired. There were only a few minutes left in his break, and he felt more drained than he had when he started.
"I can't keep cleaning up your messes for you." Shermie said more harshly than he intended. "Why can't you just grow up and take responsibility for once?"
The only response Shermie got was the sound of muffled crying, like Stan had put a hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to keep himself quiet. Shermie felt his frustration fade away, replaced with guilt.
Stan didn't cry often, but he'd never felt the need to hide it from Shermie like this. He felt a twist in his gut at the thought that Stan was doing the same thing he would do if he was talking to Pa.
"I'm sorry." Shermie said. "Look, I have some candy stashed under Alex's bed. Help yourself, and we'll talk over breakfast tomorrow. Okay?" Stan didn't answer. He was still trying to force himself to calm down, but Shermie needed a response. He needed to know that his brother knew he wasn't mad at him. "Stan?"
"Goodbye, Shermie." Stan said tearfully, and then he hung up. Shermie stared at the phone for a long minute before he sighed and set it down.
He stood up, kicking himself for how he'd handled this. He was too old to be playing mediator for his little brothers. More than that, he was too young to deal with a distressed seventeen year old.
He made himself go back to work. He was hungry, but his guilt was stronger. Stan had sounded so defeated and hopeless when he'd hung up. That wasn't like him. He was supposed to fight, and complain. Not give up.
Shermie went through the motions at work. He just thought of how he was supposed to make it up to Stan. He still didn't really know what was wrong.
Being the oldest was tiring. He wanted to not be in charge of fixing every little thing his brothers struggled with. At the same time, he really wanted to take away all of their burdens and give them the easiest life possible.
The four hours passed slowly, but in a blur. Eventually, Shermie clocked out and made his way back to his parent's place. He expected everybody to be asleep by this time, though he didn't think much of it when he saw the lights on. Ma could be taking care of Alex, or Stan might have stayed up.
Shermie trudged inside, half asleep. He didn't even notice that Stan's car was not parked in the street.
He went through the pawn shop, making sure to lock the door behind him, and he went up the stairs to his family's home.
He heard his family before he saw them. Ma was yelling. Pa was shouting. He could hear Alex crying in the other room. Shermie suddenly felt wide awake. Something was very wrong.
"Ma?" Shermie approached her cautiously. "Did something happen?"
"Shermie!" She looked at him like he was her saving grace, and Shermie just knew that he was going to let her down. "Is Stanley with you? Did you find him? Please, tell me my free spirit's okay!"
"You'd better not be hiding him at your place." Pa said. "That ingrate has leeched off of our family for long enough."
"He's not a leech!" Ma turned back to Pa, fire in her eyes. "He's your son!"
"Not anymore." Pa said heartlessly. Ma cried and hit his chest. Shermie just stood there, his blood like ice.
"Where's Stan?" Shermie whispered. "Where's my brother? What did you do to him?!"
"No less than he deserved." Pa said. "He broke your brother's project, ruining this family's chances of getting out of this dump."
"Your father kicked him out." Ma said. "Now my little boy's on the streets, with no home, and no food. He won't make it out there."
"H-he's gone?" Shermie felt like he couldn't breathe. Stan's words were echoing in his head.
I messed up.
I don't know what to do.
Can I stay at your place tonight?
I'll be out of your hair.
Goodbye.
Shermie's heart about broke. Stan hadn't called because he and Ford got in a fight. He had called because he'd been kicked to the curb, and he was still just a kid.
Stan had asked him for help, and Shermie had denied him. He refused him a place to stay, and told Stan that he needed to grow up.
If Shermie had known, he never would have pushed him away. He would have insisted that Stan stay with him, not just for the night, but for the foreseeable future. He would have made sure that Stan was taken care of, and that he knew he was loved.
But it was too late. Stan was gone, and probably under the impression that nobody even cared.
"No!" Shermie let out an agonized cry. He ran back outside, almost tripping down the stairs in his hurry to get out. He blinked the tears out of his eyes as he looked around the street.
"Stanley!" Shermie shouted, not caring at all that he might wake the neighbors. "Stan!"
He called out for his brother, running all around the neighborhood to look for him. He drove down to the beach to see if Stan was sleeping in that old boat of theirs. He returned to his own apartment, just in case his brother had taken refuge there anyway.
He didn't find his brother. Not even a sign of him. Shermie considered going to the police and having them search for him, but he knew Stan. His brother would think that the cops were after him because he was in trouble, not because he was a kid who wasn't safe by himself.
Stan would do something stupid and dangerous to get away from the police, and Shermie didn't want to push him to that.
So after searching for hours, until it was almost dawn, Shermie went back to his parents' place. He felt numb and defeated, and wished he could take back everything he had done.
His parents weren't fighting in the kitchen anymore. His Ma was asleep on the couch, probably having waited up all night for Stan. Knowing Pa, he'd probably gone to bed.
Shermie made his way to Alex's room to find the lamp on. Ford was sitting in the chair next to the crib, holding Alex close. There was a distant, almost numb look in his eyes.
"You didn't find him." Ford said quietly. His voice was raw and empty, like he'd been drained of all his emotion. Shermie understood the feeling.
"I'm sorry." Shermie said. Ford shook his head.
"It doesn't matter anymore." Ford said. "None of it matters." Shermie didn't know if he was saying that Stan's absence didn't matter, or that nothing else mattered now that his twin and best friend was gone. He didn't know which option was worse.
Ford wasn't crying, but Shermie knew that he was devastated. His dreams were ruined and his brother was gone. Shermie knew that Ford would be able to jump back from this, but that knowledge didn't diminish his very real pain.
Shermie put a hand on Ford's shoulder. "You're going to be okay, Kiddo. I promise." He would personally see to it that Ford was okay. He swore right then and there that if his brother reached out to him for help, no matter when or where, he would drop everything and hurry to his side.
Shermie had failed his baby brother. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.