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If someone had asked Calvin Fischoeder hours ago where he thought he’d be at the end of the night, he wouldn’t have said he’d be here. But here he was, sitting on his bathroom floor—one of them anyway—watching Bob Belcher throw up into the toilet. Unsure of what exactly to do in this situation, because it had never happened to him before, Calvin patted Bob on the back. Bob was so sweaty he’d soaked through his shirt, but Calvin didn’t mind all that much. It was all very rugged.
“There, now,” he said softly. “Let it out. Absinthe is rough stuff, I know.”
Bob retched a few more times before going limp. Calvin could only tell he was awake by the way he breathed.
“Oh, man, you’re really sick, Bobby,” came Linda Belcher’s voice from the doorway.
She’d been watching the whole thing from a safe distance, her hand covering her nose.
“He’ll be alright,” Calvin said, “though I imagine he’ll have a nasty hangover tomorrow. What is it?”
“Huh?” Linda asked, her eyes widening behind her glasses.
Calvin smiled at her. “You look sad.”
“Oh,” she said, glancing at the floor. “It’s just, did I play my part very well? I really thought I did, but now I don’t know. Was I not convincing?”
Calvin laughed, so sudden and sharp Linda jumped a bit.
“That’s an understatement,” Bob muttered, echoing Calvin’s thoughts exactly.
“Hey, mister,” Linda glared at her husband.
“Oh, you were a fine wife while it lasted, Lady Burger,” Calvin said with a wave of his hand. “I suspect Shelby and I just weren’t meant to be. Either way, I couldn’t have given it quite the old college try without you and your family here.”
“Oh, stop.” Linda blushed, clearly a sucker for compliments.
When she blushed, Calvin could see why Bob loved her so much. Her lips had felt nice earlier too, even if the kiss wasn’t real, just an act. He wondered—
“Hm,” Bob grumbled, his head still resting on the toilet seat.
“Right,” Calvin said, turning his attention to Bob once more. “Listen, Lady Burger, it’s getting late and I don’t know if this one’s going to be able to get out to your car on his own two feet.”
“Probably not upstairs to our apartment either. And he’s too heavy for me to carry, even if the kids help. I mean, I’m pretty sure.”
“Well,” Calvin said, “we’ve all had a long day as it is. Why don’t you find your children before they cause too much chaos in my home? I trust the four of you can find enough guest bedrooms upstairs to settle into for the night.”
“Really? Wow. But what about Bobby?”
“I’ll take care of him for you. He can sleep on the sofa downstairs, and I’ll watch over him. You deserve a good night’s rest, and anyway, he could use a good talking-to about the dangers of drinking too much… and of stealing from me. I’m happy to take him off your hands for a bit.”
Now it was Linda’s turn to laugh as she leaned over and kissed Bob on top of the head. She put her hand on Calvin’s shoulder too, much to his surprise. But then, she’d had her fair share of wine earlier. The placement of her hand was probably just to steady herself.
“Alright,” she said, “just make sure you bring him back in one piece.”
Then she was gone, the promise of a comfortable bed probably an enticing one indeed, and it was just Bob and Calvin on the bathroom floor, alone.
Bob groaned. “Okay, what are you gonna do to me?”
“What’s that?” Calvin asked dreamily, running his finger along Bob’s spine.
“Well, I ruined your Thanksgiving, and you’ve got me alone. And your house is so big I bet Linda and the kids—” He paused to hiccup. “I bet they won’t even hear me scream, so—oh, man, my head hurts.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.”
“That’s not true.”
“Fine,” Calvin said. “You did ruin things with Shelby, you stole some very expensive absinthe from me, and you used the turkey as a... shrapnel shield, but all of that can be replaced. I’m more worried about you getting alcohol poisoning than I am about any of that, to be frank with you.”
“Okay, Dad,” Bob laughed, trying to sit up and falling backward in the process.
Luckily, Calvin was ready to catch Bob’s head in his lap, or they’d have a concussion on their hands too.
Bob laughed again, and Calvin narrowed his eye at him.
“I can't get alcohol poisoning when I threw it all up,” Bob said.
“Fair enough.” Calvin ran his hand through Bob’s hair, which was as sweaty as his back, if not more so. “You’re sure it’s all out of your system? We shouldn’t have you lying on your back if it’s not.”
“Daaad,” Bob teased again.
Calvin patted Bob on the cheek. “Keep calling me that and I’ll give you a spanking.”
He wouldn’t really do that, not to someone who wasn’t sober anyway. He thought that should be obvious, but he saw Bob’s eyes widen and his jaw drop. The moment was brief before Bob was apparently distracted by something just above Calvin’s head.
“Hey, uh, your ceiling’s spinning,” he said, pointing. “It hurts my eyes.”
It really must have, because he curled onto his side then, his face practically pressed into Calvin’s crotch. In that moment, Calvin found himself truly wishing Bob was sober and therefore able to consent to something, anything. Still, he supposed this was nice too.
After awhile, Bob spoke again. “Hey, what happened there?”
Calvin looked down to see where Bob’s eyes were trained now, and he felt his chest go cold. Somewhere in all the activity of the day, his shirt must have ridden up without his noticing, just enough to show the jagged line along his lower stomach, from back when surgeons weren’t as good at scar prevention as they were today.
“Oh, you naughty, nosy boy,” he said.
Bob looked up, his eyes wide. “What?”
“How much of this do you think you’ll remember?”
“Uh, some.”
“Fine,” Calvin said. “That, my boy, is a hysterectomy scar.”
Then he sat back on the heels of his hands and waited for the newfound knowledge to settle into Bob’s head.
“What?” Bob asked. Then he said, “Oh. Oh. I didn’t know that about you.”
“Are you going to laugh at me now?” Calvin asked.
He was prepared for it, he thought.
“No,” Bob protested. “God, why would I do that? I’m just surprised. Is—”
He trailed off, looking embarrassed.
“What is it?”
“Is that why you wanted to borrow my family? Not to trick Shelby, but because you can’t have your own—you know?”
Calvin couldn’t help but scoff at that. “I have means, Bob. If I wanted a child, I’d have one made in a test tube. And anyway, if I was hell-bent on borrowing your children and your wife as some sort of nuclear unit, I’d be upstairs making love to Linda right now.”
“Hey, watch it,” Bob glared, trying and failing to look intimidating as he rested his head on Calvin’s lap.
“But I’m here with you,” Calvin finished, as if Bob hadn’t spoken.
“Hm,” Bob said. “Are—are we still gonna have to pay rent for the next few months?”
“No. No, it’s alright,” Calvin said, running his hand through Bob’s hair again.
“Really?”
“Sure, dear. It wasn’t an unenjoyable evening, after all, more excitement than I’ve had in ages.”
“Wow. Thank you.”
“Do you think you can walk on your own?”
“Sure,” Bob said. Then he tried to sit up and immediately laid back down. “Ugh. No. Spinning.”
“Don’t worry, then. I’ll just lead you to one of the couches in the living room.”
“Okay,” Bob said, and let Calvin help him stand up. He was unsteady on his feet, and had to lean on Calvin’s shoulder to stay upright. “Uh, you know what you said about how I shouldn’t lay on my back?”
“Just like I told your wife, I’ll stay downstairs and watch over you so nothing bad happens,” Calvin promised.
“Okay. I don’t know if I’ll get much sleep.”
“I’m sure you will, and perhaps this whole ordeal will teach you to stay away from absinthe in the future, at least that much of it, especially when it isn’t yours.”
“Yeah,” Bob said, holding his stomach. “Maybe. Th-thanks for, you know.”
Calvin squeezed Bob’s hand. “Of course. Now let’s go.”