The Diminishing Returns of Respecting Your Father
A modern retelling of the story of Jacob and Rachel
By Kaily Mermelstein
In a culture where arbitrary factors like the order of birth determined the course of their lives, Jacob and Rachel did not try to change themselves to belong. Rather, they worked around their circumstances and sought the future they knew they deserved. For Jacob, this was securing the firstborn’s birthright. For Rachel, this was escaping the home of her idolatrous father. This modern retelling shows that the lessons they learned through their struggles hold today: sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is to leave and start again somewhere new.
Original art by Brooke Cohen-Pinsky
Rachel had been the one to spot him stumbling into her family’s cafe while she was taking orders at the cash register. The man was filthy, his sweat-sticky shirt tucked into mud-splattered pants, his glasses smudged beyond visibility. She ran to get her father and got a slap to the head for leaving the shop unattended, then was sent to their apartment on the floor above. Rachel was halfway up the stairs when her dad returned, an arm wrapped around the stranger like they were war buddies, and she paused on the stairs to listen in.
Where did her reclusive father meet a guy like this? The stranger spoke in a mumble, so she could only hear her dad’s side of the conversation. He asked about the man’s mother, lamented the way they fell out of touch, alluded to “such great times” that Rachel really didn’t need to know about, then abruptly cut to business. He told the man that he couldn’t house someone for free, and smiled when the man agreed.
A chair scraped against the floor, and Rachel jumped back. “I’ll show you where you can get cleaned up,” her father continued. “You’ll be swimming in my clothes, but they’re clean. And I’ll set up an air mattress in the storeroom for you.” He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Buck up. No one’s going to kill you in my house.” Rachel thought this was a joke, but the man solemnly nodded.
Rachel rushed towards her room as they started up the stairs, pulling out a book in a frenzy. Sometimes she felt like her household skills were the only reason she was kept around. God knows he had told her enough about how much trouble she gave him compared to what she was worth. By the time she dared to open her door, the man was down in the storeroom.
Rachel tried to catch him the next day, but she was stuck doing the dishes at the cafe all day, her punishment for her earlier carelessness, and didn’t see him at dinner.
“Jacob?” her father asked when she inquired. “He’s still settling in, get off his back.”
So his name was Jacob. That was a start.
The next day, all of her skulking paid off. She didn’t see Jacob while she manned the counter, and he didn’t come to dinner again. But late into the night, after her father and Leah had already gone to bed, she heard a creak downstairs. When she tiptoed downstairs, his head was ducked behind one of her dad’s beat-up books. Jacob turned each page like it was made of tissue, delicately but quickly. He had flipped through five pages by the time he noticed Rachel lurking in the corner.
“Hello,” he said softly, shutting the book. His eyes, visible through clean glasses, met hers.
“Oh, um, I didn’t mean to interrupt your reading,” she said, looking around for an excuse. “I’m just getting a cup of water.”
“That’s alright. It’s not a very good book anyway.” He showed her the cover, and it was an outdated drink catalogue.
“Why were you reading it then?”
“I can’t fall asleep without reading something first. I thought my books would get damaged if I brought them, but I’m sure I could’ve carried something under my shirt. They would make a good pillow.” His lips twitched, and he looked back down at the catalogue. “I interrupted your drink.”
Jacob was chattier than she originally thought; although his voice was hushed, each word followed the one before in a smooth stream.
“I wasn’t actually getting a drink,” she confessed, inching further into the room. Now that she had him talking all to herself, she didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. They never got new people around; he could be an avenue out of there. “Can I sit with you? I’ll keep the door open, obviously.”
He glanced away from the doorway. “Please,” he said, gesturing to the chair beside him. He was in Rachel’s usual spot.
“My dad said your name’s Jacob,” she said, not wanting to bother with a fake introduction.
He replied, “Right. And you’re Rachel?”
“How’d you know?”
“Laban mentioned that he has two daughters. One of them knows how to mind her own business, and the other doesn’t.” His shoulders relaxed when she laughed. “It was an educated guess.”
“What can I say? I had to investigate the weirdo who walked in with no introduction.”
“I apologize. I had nowhere else to go.”
“I thought so. You looked like you’d already been everywhere else.” That got a chuckle from him. “Is someone actually trying to kill you?”
His leg banged against the table. “Most likely,” he said tightly. “My brother is very angry with me.”
“What did you do?”
“I stole from him.” He twisted his beard between his fingers.
“That’s it?” she said suspiciously.
“I transferred some money from his bank account to mine.” He paused, mulling it over. “A lot of money, to be fair.”
“Well, that’s nothing to cry about. If my sister were homeless and she stole from me, I wouldn’t freak out about it.”
“What makes you think I’m homeless?” he asked. She raised an eyebrow. “OK, I see your point. But I didn’t steal from him because I needed the money, I did it because he doesn’t deserve it.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, scooting backward an inch, and the squeak of her chair made them both startle.
“Whenever I would ask my father a question,” he began, resettling, “he would take the most roundabout way to get to the answer so I would think more deeply about it.” He waited for her approval, and she nodded reluctantly.
“Let’s imagine you have two sons. Twins, even, but they’re nothing alike. One is strong and brutish, and the other is small and quiet. And you love them, and you let them do as they please. So the strong one gets wilder, and the quiet one gets more bookish. And while the strong one is out making trouble, you stay in with the quiet one and learn, just like you used to do with your father.” He takes a deep breath. “Why would you love this son less?”
She blinks. “Does he love you less?”
“We’re not talking about me right now,” he said. “Just answer the question.”
“Maybe he reminds me of the parts of myself I dislike.”
“Good answer. Let’s move past that. You’re old, blind, and you’re probably- probably dying,” and he mumbled something under his breath. A prayer, or a phrase to cast the thought away. “You’re not well. And you have two sons, and money to give them. How do you decide who to give what?”
“I’d split it equally,” Rachel said.
“You can’t do that. Who gets more?”
“My favorite, I guess.”
“Right! And shouldn’t your favorite be the one who’s done everything you asked, who always does what he’s supposed to do? Why would you reward the one who’s always gone when your other son was right beside you?”
He pulled at his beard, fingers white. “My father has... traditional ideas about birthright. The older son gets the larger share.”
“Aren’t you-”
“He’s four minutes older.”
“Ah.”
He let his hands relax. “So now we’ve come back to the main issue. Why did I think I should get the bigger share? And was I right?”
Rachel realized that this long-winded story wasn’t just for her sake, but for his, too. There was a well of anger in him that he could only retrieve bucket by bucket.
“Who’s to say?” she said. “Definitely not me.”
“I’d accept your judgment,” he replied. “I’ll be atoning for a long time. But only for lying to my father and leaving him.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Every day. But he would never forgive me if he found out what I did. He wouldn’t even recognize the person I am now.” He polished his glasses on her dad’s oversized shirt.
“That could be a good thing. I mean, it sounds like you weren’t happy with your relationship with him. Maybe this will fix that.”
“Perhaps. I don’t know when I can go back, though. Esau will still be hunting me down.”
“He can’t do that forever. Like, a guy’s gotta have other hobbies besides trying to kill his brother,” she says playfully.
“You’ve never met him,” he replied, as serious as ever.
“I’ve met plenty of men with tempers.” She flicked her head towards the stairs. “They always cool down eventually.”
“It will take years.”
“You don’t have another choice.” She felt too serious all of a sudden and tried to perk back up. “So now that you have all this free time, what will you do?”
“Prepare myself for what comes next,” he said. “Make myself worthy of my father’s respect. Forgive my brother so I can reunite with him with an open heart.”
“And make some coffee?” Rachel asked.
Jacob tapped a finger to his chin. “Yes. And make some coffee.”
Kaily Mermelstein is a 1PD at the University of Florida College of Pharmacy. When she’s not writing stories, she likes reading, crafting and going on walks with her bearded dragon Fred.