by T. J. Klune
He opens the door and thrusts his bags over the seats to the back, next to Ty. He gets in and grins over at me. He reaches over and puts one arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a hug, and I feel rain water roll onto my cheek. He pats my back with the requisite three-pat man-hug and pulls away. “What’s up, dude? How’s coastal life?”
I smile and shrug. “Same as when I talked to you last. I think you would know if anything major was going on.”
He grins again and looks over his shoulder into the backseat and quickly rubs his hands over his head, spraying water all over me and Ty, who laughs out a mock protest. “What’s up, Kid? Bear treating you okay, or do I need to take him down a few pegs for you?”
Ty puts his hand to his chin in concentration and thinks for a moment. Then, “Maybe just one peg. He wouldn’t let me get that new documentary about PETA from the video store.”
“That was a month ago!” I protest, knowing what’s coming.
Ty glares at me. “I remember things.”
Creed laughs. “One peg it is,” he says and punches me on the shoulder. Yeah, he’s definitely put on more muscle.
“Bastard,” I growl, rubbing my arm. “You should have seen this movie. It was all about how to become an ecoterrorist and fight against the system. If the Kid had gotten it, he probably would be blowing up some celebrity for wearing fur right now.”
“Eh, what can you do?” Creed says. “At least it wasn’t like last time when he said three pegs for not getting him the right brand of soy milk.” How could I forget? I had a bruise on my arm for a month.
Ty speaks for me. “He gets me the right kind now. And, Bear, I can’t believe you said it was about how to ‘fight against the system.’ I guess it’s disheartening for any child to learn their big brother is still living in the Reagan years.”
I don’t even know what that means.
AN HOUR later, we’re still on the freeway, traffic having backed up, and it’s raining harder. Creed’s been telling us what’s been going on in Arizona, more for Ty’s benefit than mine as I speak to Creed a few times a week. Ty tells him about the new teacher he had at school who he’s had to correct a few times when the teacher had been wrong in class, and about how I had to go in for a “Brother-Teacher” conference (he refuses to call it parent-teacher). He makes a face as he tells Creed about how Mr. Epson had called Benjamin Franklin a fine president. Creed looks over at me quickly, and I nod, and Creed turns back in horror to Ty, asking how anyone could get that mixed up.
“I know!” Ty mutters darkly. “There are apparently no standards to teach the third grade. And we don’t get out of school for another month.”
Ten minutes later, Ty’s talked out and asleep, his head resting on Creed’s bags. Looking back over his shoulder to make sure the Kid is actually asleep, Creed then turns to me and says quietly, “I thought Benjamin Franklin was a president.”
“I thought he was too! I had to look it up later just to make sure. Apparently he didn’t do a lot of things I thought he did.”
“He’s on money though, right?” Creed asks.
“Yeah, he is. How’d he do that if he wasn’t president?”
“He probably had a big dick.”
I grin. “Like the bigger it was, the higher the bill you would be on or something?”
“Yeah. Poor George,” Creed says, laughing. “Of course, I would be on the million-dollar bill.”
“They don’t make a million-dollar bill.”
“Well, yeah. They haven’t seen how big my dick is.” We both laugh. Then he quiets down and looks over at me. “It’s good to see you, Bear. Thanks for coming to pick me up.”
I shrug. “Sure. It’s not every day you come back, so it’s no big deal. How were finals?” I ask, trying to prolong the conversation from where it’ll inevitably go.
He groans and covers his face. “A nightmare. I don’t think they’re going to let me go back next semester.”
“Liar.”
He grins. “You’re right. Bear, I could do this crap in my sleep. I’m getting so bored being in school. I’m doing this stupid internship right now, and it’s literally the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done. Apparently ‘intern’ means ‘glorified errand boy’.” He shakes his head. “The recommendation will be good when I graduate, though. Speaking of, I know it’s a year away, but make sure you know you and the Kid need to be in Phoenix for graduation.”
I nod. “It’ll give me enough time to start saving up some money. We should be able to swing it, at least for a couple of days.” Goddamn it! Why’d I have to—
“Bear, if you’d just let me—” Creed begins, going into that same old dance that I’ve long memorized the steps to.
I cut him off. “Don’t start that again. You know that if I needed help, I’d ask. It’s not that I’m so full of pride that I don’t know to ask if I needed to.”
He looks out the window. “I know that you would make sure Ty’s covered but you wouldn’t ask help for yourself.”
I don’t respond because I know it’s true, and anything said to the contrary would sound hollow to both of us.
Creed turns back to me. “C’mon, Bear. You know I worry about you and the Kid. It’s my right as your best friend and job as being Uncle Creed.”
“I know,” I say irritably. “But we are actually doing okay right now. I’m almost all caught up with the bills. We’re not behind on rent like we were last year. The only things I am really worried about right now is what to do about the Kid’s school next year and”—I look back to make sure Ty is still asleep—“his birthday party.”
“Brother-Teacher Conference?”
“Brother-Teacher Conference. Apparently he’s a ‘disruption’ in class, but even the teacher and principal think it’s because he is too smart for the material. They want to move him up to fifth grade next year, but I don’t know.”
Creed whistles. “Skipping a grade? How the hell did he get so smart?” He grins and lightly punches me on the shoulder. “We know it’s nothing you did.”
I punch him back, careful not to swerve the car and end up in a ditch. “You’re telling me? I know that already. I just wonder if he needs the disruption of skipping a grade. I don’t know if that would be good for him or not.” And I really believe that. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse that Mom chose to leave me with the goddamn smartest kid on the planet. “Whatever I decide, they want an answer two weeks before the new school year begins, to fit him into a classroom.”
“And they’re not giving you any more shit over the power of attorney?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nah. Not as much as they did at first. But they’ve been dealing with me since Ty was in kindergarten. You know I was at these meetings more than my mom ever was. The only thing that really changed is that her say-so really wasn’t needed anymore.” This had terrified me at first, of course, on top of everything else—that I had the final say over anything and everything Tyson. Even if I’d been the one to attend these teacher conferences and doctor’s appointments when our mom had still been around, she’d usually still signed off on everything. I remember being afraid that everything I did was going to be wrong and that there’d be no one there to correct my mistakes. Looking back, I don’t really know how we survived. Sheer force of will, perhaps.
Creed looks back at Ty and then at me. “Dude, if you’d have told me three years ago that we’d be having this conversation, I would have said you were high.”
“I know. It’s crazy, right?”
He laughs. “Full-on Papa-Bear mode.” He looks out the window as we pull into the Seafare city limits. “Ah, home sweet home. Did you know when I left Phoenix it was 113 degrees outside?”
I make a face. I don’t understand how anyone can live in that kind of weather. The Kid and I went to visit Creed over their holiday break a couple of years ago. It was hot on Christmas Eve, and we went swimming at this barbecue we went to. I swore I got skin cancer for the week we were there. The Kid to
ld me I was a drama queen. Arizona is weird. Give me the ocean and cold anytime.
I turn down Seaway Avenue, which leads to the Pinecrest Coast side of town, where Creed’s house is at. And before this goes any further, let me repeat something, just so we’re clear: Creed’s family is rich, I’m not. That’s just the way it is. I’m not some kind of wrong-side-of-the-tracks cliché that needs to be saved from his life of poverty. I’m not fighting those that oppress me in some all-out movie-of-the-week kind of way. These are just the facts of life, and it is what it is and blah, blah, blah. I’m doing okay. We’re doing okay. I’ve learned in my short time here on Earth that things could always be worse.
Creed is saying something about some girl he boned or wants to bone or got halfway to boning when we turn onto his street, and his words cut off. I look over at him and see him staring at the window.
“What?”
“Whose car is in my driveway?”
I look further down the street and indeed see an older Jeep Cherokee sitting in front of Creed’s four-car garage. It’s black and missing a hubcap on one of the tires. I haven’t seen it before, and I don’t think it belongs to his parents. “Do you think we should stop?”
He laughs. “Where else we gonna go? If it’s someone breaking in, I need to at least make sure they’re not taking any of my stuff.” We get closer to the house, close enough to see no one in the Jeep and to see the front door is closed and not in splinters like my overactive mind thought it would be. “Park next to it,” he says, pointing to a spot in the driveway. “I’ll go in. You stay out here with the Kid and keep your window down, and I’ll shout for you if I need help.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s sounds like a great plan. I’ll make sure to come running. Together, we’ll be able to take ’em down with all the weapons I keep in my car. Way to think that one out.”
Creed doesn’t say anything as he opens his door and gets out into the rain. I see him look through the windows on the garage door, but he doesn’t see anything that would make him run back to the car. I reach for my cell phone and dial 911 and hold my hand over the send button, just to be safe. I look in the rearview mirror and see that Ty’s still sleeping on Creed’s bags.
Creed walks up to the front door and opens it with his keys and pushes it open, calling out with deepened voice and a stuck-out chest, “Hello?” I snort and accidentally dial 911. I look at my phone in horror and hang up, hoping it didn’t go through because those people can track you anywhere. I look back up in time for Creed to buckle over, laughing.
“No way!” he yells into the house and turns back to walk out to the car where I sit, still unsure if it’s a robber or if 911 is going to call me back.
“Who is it?” I demand as he opens the door.
Creed grins at the Kid asleep on his bags and then looks back at me, his eyes dancing. “Dude, its Otter. My big bro came home.”
2.
Where Bear Attempts
to Explain Some Things
OKAY, so I know what you’re thinking: first Bear, now a guy named Otter? I can explain that one too.
Remember when I told you how Ty is the reason that my mom and everyone else in the world started calling me Bear? I guess it was some kind of cosmic revenge for what I did to Creed’s big brother. When I first met Creed at the tender age of eight, I was infinitely shyer than I am now. I’m okay now with meeting new people. Either that or I just ignore them. But back then, I was a nightmare when it came to strangers. I was over at Creed’s house for the first time to play and spend the night. My mom had some new boyfriend that was taking up all of her time (oh, I know, poor me, right?) and the Kid was still a few years away. So when my mom found out I had made a new friend, I was instantly pawned off on this family who could have taken one look at me and closed the door. But they didn’t, and after a while, it got to be where Creed’s mom would recognize my voice when I called on the phone, and I would have dinner at their house more often than my own. Then Ty came and that got all curbed for a while so I could stay home and help my mom.
The first time I went over to Creed’s house, I was a nervous wreck, and it all had to do with this unseen entity, this creature known as a big brother. Creed had told me before that he was sixteen and a jerk but that he would leave us alone if we left him alone. Naturally, that terrified the hell out of me. I imagined this great hulking teenager who would tear me apart if I even looked at him weird, and I suddenly didn’t want to go. I begged my mom, but she told me that Bill or Frank or John or Bob or whatever other one-syllable name she was dating at the time was going to take her somewhere fancy and how she deserved it and didn’t I think she deserved it? And of course not another word was spoken on the matter, and two hours later I found myself on the Thompsons’ front porch with a Transformers overnight bag that my mom had purchased at a garage sale for the occasion. I rang the doorbell, wondering how a rich person’s doorbell would sound and was in the middle of being surprised that it sounded like ours when the door opened.
“Who’re you?” the older boy said with a scowl, looking at me over his Gameboy. The first thing I thought was how impressed I was that he had a Gameboy. You remember those things with the foul green screen that reduced every game to Gerber Mashed Peas? I always wanted one, but my mom said it was better to have a roof over our head. I was never one to try and argue with that kind of logic.
The second thing I remember was that Creed had said his brother could be a jerk and of course that meant he was capable of murder and that he would not hesitate to murder me. So I squeaked out my name, asking if Creed was home. He yelled for Creed over his shoulder and walked away. I didn’t know if I should follow him or stay where I was. My legs wouldn’t move, so I decided it was best if I stayed outside. Creed came to the door and grabbed my arm and pulled me in. I went in and said hi to his parents, who I’d met a couple of times before. Creed led me to his room so I could put my stuff down. We walked past another door whose hinges were about to be blown off by music pulsating deep from within that had a sign with almost illegible handwriting. And I will swear to God till the day I die that it said KEEP OUT OF OTTER’S ROOM.
Now, I didn’t know the name of Creed’s older brother when I arrived, and I puzzled all the way to Creed’s room on why his brother was named Otter. I asked him this quietly in his room after I’d made sure no one could hear me as I didn’t want to incur the wrath of someone somewhere. I remember Creed laughing hysterically, to the point where he was crying. You know where someone finds something so funny that you just don’t get the humor in it, but they are laughing so hard that you eventually start laughing too? Yeah, it was one of those kinds of things. There we were, laughing our asses off, with one of us not understanding what was so funny. Between hitching breaths and snot hanging out of his nose, Creed finally told him that his brother’s name was Oliver.
Everything was going good until Creed brought it up while all of us were at dinner.
I wished at that point, as I had never wished before, that I could disappear, become invisible, drop down dead, anything to get away from my sheer stupidity. Of course, I naturally assumed they were all laughing at me. I could feel my face on fire as I tried to think of something funny I’d seen to keep the tears from spilling over. Eventually, finally, the conversation switched over to something else. I kept stealing glances over at Oliver, wondering how mad he was at me and how he was going to get his revenge. One time he caught me looking and gave me a crooked grin. His eyes flashed.
I looked away.
The next time I went over to the Thompson house, everyone called him Otter.
I REACH back and shake the Kid a little bit, trying to wake him. He doesn’t like to wake up in strange places, so this is gentle work. Eventually he opens his eyes and hunts around until he finds me and visibly relaxes.
“What’s going on, Bear?” he asks, yawning.
“We’re at Creed’s house. Remember how I said we were going to hang out here tonight? Is that still okay? If w
e stay here for a while?” I had actually planned on crashing here tonight, but now that Otter’s here I don’t want to. Long story.
The Kid stretches in the seat and nods. “Do you think Creed still has the History Channel on his TV?”
I try to hide my smile but don’t do very well. “I’m sure he does. Don’t you want to watch cartoons or something, though?” He looks at me like I’m crazy. I sigh and remind myself once again how normal he isn’t and how okay that is. I hesitate with my next words, but only for a moment. “Guess what else, Kid? Otter’s here too.”
The Kid pauses for a moment, thinking. “It’s been a while,” he finally says succinctly. He quickly unbuckles his seat belt and steps out into the rain. I zip up his coat, noticing how small it is on him now, wondering if I need to go get him a new one. I try and think if he has any other coat in the closet at home, but I can’t remember. But that’s all right. For now. For now, he seems to be okay.
“Bear, you coming inside or what?” Creed asks from the doorway. I startle, realizing that Ty has already run inside, and I’m standing in the driveway getting soaked. I grin sheepishly and rub my hands through my hair.
As I enter the house, I hear Ty yelling for Otter as he runs up the stairs. Creed rolls his eyes at me. “I guess I’ve been replaced already.”
“Don’t feel too bad,” I say. “The Kid thinks you’re cool, but ‘Otter rocks!’” My voice rises to the octave of the Kid.