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Otto and Georg were never pinned as the domestic type. Their wedding was totally wine-induced and later laughed off as for tax benefits, and the most family-oriented affair that went on in the household in general was the occasional joking, “Honey, I’m home!” greeting whenever either one entered the door. Their friends often joked that they could only ever parent a goldfish, and they both agreed with that for a very long time.
He had first heard the news when his mother, who he hadn’t talked to in years, called. He was sitting in Georg’s lap and they exchanged worried glances when the contact name popped up.
“You...don’t have to pick up, you know,” Georg said.
Otto hadn’t wanted to pick up. He hated talking to her. It made his hands shake whenever he spoke and she always made him feel terrible. But some sort of guilt welled up inside of him and he wound up accepting the FaceTime call. He was shocked to see, though, his mother was crying. He had never seen her cry before.
She didn’t even greet him. “Your sister is dead.” The phrase was cold, almost rehearsed, but she was visibly upset.
Otto looked to Georg again, briefly, and then back to his mother.
“I’m sorry, mama,” Otto said.
“Her husband doesn’t see himself fit to be a father without him,” she said through a small sob. “I won’t be a grandmother after all!”
Otto knew she wanted something from him. She wasn’t really sad about her daughter, she was just sad she was going to lose the title of Grandma all because her daughter was dead and her son was gay. He fought the urge to say “Okay, cool, bye!” and hang up the phone, but he didn’t.
“That’s really sad.” Otto wasn’t sure what else to say. “May she rest in peace.”
“Yes, yes, may she rest in peace,” Otto’s mother echoed sadly through a dramatic sob.
“I need to go now, mama. To mourn, and all of that,” Otto decided after a stretch of silence far too heavy. He knew what his mother wanted from him, and he didn’t want to give it to her.
“Oh, of course, my dear Otto,” she said. “Goodbye! Goodbye! Good—!” Otto hung up before she could finish.
“Holy shit,” Georg said. “Otto…”
“It’s fine,” Otto said, stubbornly holding back tears. He was lucky he didn’t need to speak orally to communicate. Otherwise he knew he’d be a goner.
Georg put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Otto just shrugged it off.
“Otto, that’s your sister .”
“Yeah?”
“Your sister is fucking dead, dude.”
“I know that,” He snapped back.
Georg winced. He hadn’t wanted to get into an argument. “So...—”
“So what? You want me to take her kid? We barely can afford food for the both of us, much less diapers and shit.”
“I’ll get a better job!”
“Where? They don’t just hand out good jobs on the street, Georg. You don’t even want kids, so why are you pushing for this so hard?”
“I’m not! I don’t want kids! But letting her just get sent to some orphanage isn’t going to do her very good, is it?”
“She’ll be fine if my mother doesn’t cut her off.”
“Is that what this is about?” Georg asked, softer and more concerned than before. The pair never argued, so Georg desperately wanted to diffuse the situation.
Otto didn’t respond. That confirmed it in Georg’s mind. “Otto,” Georg said. “Are you joking? This isn’t just something you can brush aside!”
“If you want the kid so bad then you can take it!”
Georg sighed. “Okay,” he started. “You’re grieving right now and I’m not going to make you feel bad for that. I’m going to go to bed. Come and see me when you’re ready to actually talk about this. Please.”
He had a look in his eye before turning away- one that said please don’t go down to the lake and think about how much you want to kill yourself . With that sentiment in the air, he made a swift exit.
Otto’s only solution to Georg leaving the room was to get up and pace the floor, tangling his fists in his hair. This all weighed so heavily on his chest. He didn’t want to be a father, but he didn’t want to lose his sister completely, but he didn’t want to please his mother, but he didn’t want to disappoint his sister in the afterlife. Fuck.
In the end, though, Otto was too tired to fret anymore. The sun was just about to rise and Otto realized he had stayed up half the night panicking. Usually that was Georg’s job.
And maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was because Otto just didn’t feel like crying anymore, but Otto made up his mind. He crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around Georg’s waist. They weren’t usually the physical affection type, but Georg was too fast asleep to question it.
As quietly as he knew how to be, Otto said, “I think I want to keep the kid.”
Georg nodded and mumbled a sleepy, “Okay.”
...
The next morning came, and Otto had to muster up enough courage to call his mother. Georg had convinced him to take a day off from work, and then said he’d be going to get groceries. Otto had told him to bring back milk. Georg was confused- Otto was lactose intolerant.
And so, after a very stressful phone call, a very stressful ride in the car, and a very stressful interaction in a hospital lobby, Otto now had a baby in the back seat of his truck. And soon, Otto had a baby in his home.
Georg got back soon with a gallon of milk and suddenly understood why when he saw a small baby in Otto’s arms.
“Wow,” he said. “She looks just like...—”
“My sister,” Otto interrupted. “Yeah.”
“No,” Georg said. “You.”
Otto didn’t know what to say to that so he didn’t really respond. He just shrugged one shoulder.
“Well,” Georg said. “I don’t think babies can drink cow’s milk.”
“What’s the difference?”
Georg smiled meekly. “There’s definitely a difference, dude.”
“Okay, then what does she need?”
“Formula. Or tiddy milk if we can find some.”
“I literally hate when you say that, you know.”
“I’m just trying to lighten the mood!” Georg laughed.
Georg went back to the store to buy formula. And diapers. They got her clothes from Otto’s sister’s baby shower gifts, and Otto made her a bassinet. Their friends helped, too. Wendla crocheted a blanket and Melchior got her books. Textbooks. Which Otto and Georg promptly burned. Overall, though, their friends were quite supportive. Even Hanschen, who also said she had looked like a raisin.
They all helped Otto and Georg raise the baby. Some days it was harder than others but some days were the best of Otto’s life. And how ironic it was, for the man who desired nothing more than to build a sailboat and float into the middle of the ocean in hopes of never again meeting another human being to settle down in a small, lakeside shack with his lover and a child. How ironic it was that Otto Lammermeier had finally found a family he was truly content with. Even without the whales.