Bear, Otter, & the Kid 01 - Bear, Otter, & the Kid (MM)

by T. J. Klune

  SO THAT’S how it went. That’s how she left. That’s how I reacted. That’s how we told Ty. That’s how I made the only choice I could make. I turned eighteen and gained a child. A few days later Creed, Anna, and I graduated from high school. Both Anna’s parents and the Thompsons were told about what happened. We got them together to tell them so it would not have to be repeated, and I was proud of my friends as they stood united with me against their parents’ protestations. Eventually, we got them to agree to allow me to take care of Ty and not try to find our mom or call the cops or anything like that. Of course, this was only made on the condition that I accept their help and ask them for anything if it was needed for either Ty or myself. Otter, Creed, and Anna all kicked me underneath the table when I hesitated, and I said yes. I knew their parents were going against their better judgment, but I think that they were told of my threat to take Ty and leave if they ever did anything, so they did nothing.

  As promised, the power of attorney arrived two days after my birthday, brought to me by my mother’s friend Denise. As promised, it had already been notarized. All I had to do was sign my name on the empty line below. I stared at the little sheet of paper for what felt like hours, tracing my mom’s signature with my finger over and over again. It felt like I was signing my life away, agreeing to something that wasn’t fair to anyone involved. But in the end, what choice did I have? I signed the power of attorney, and Creed and Anna tried to make a big deal about it, saying it was cause for celebration. I shook my head and stood out on our apartment balcony, staring out into the parking lot. Otter came out a moment later and stood next to me, never speaking but bumping my shoulder every now and then to let me know he was still there. That was all I needed.

  It turned out that the $137.50 that was in the envelope with the damned letter was all that our mom had left us. I’d had more than three thousand saved in that account from working, saving up for when I was supposed to go away to school. It was the final slap in the face from my mother. Much to my annoyance, however, Creed or Anna or Otter had gotten my banking information and somehow that money was magically replaced into the account. I knew it was one of their parents who had put it there, and I protested it quickly. I was told to shut up and to remember that I had promised to let them help. I didn’t say anything further to them except for a humbled thank-you and immediately went to work and requested extra shifts. I vowed to not put them in that position again.

  And so that’s what happened.

  I know, I know. I can hear you asking already: But Bear, that doesn’t explain what happened with you and Otter. That’s the whole point of this flashback! I’m getting to that. I’m just thinking of what to say. He did do something to me, yes, but I’m not talking about anything physical. He did something to my head, and I find that’s always the hardest thing to talk about. So why are Otter and I standing in the rain, the Kid’s soy ice cream half-melted? Why am I clutching at him like Ty did when we told him about our mom? I’m doing that because I am afraid he’ll disappear like he said he wouldn’t, that he will abandon me, and I will be alone all over again. But I’m not like that, okay? I’m not like that.

  I’m not.

  ABOUT two weeks after I graduated, I came home from work. It was almost ten o’clock at night. I was tired. I found myself being tired most of the time in those days. There’s nothing more draining on a human than a perpetual state of grief and anger. I alternated between the two, trying to keep it bottled up so no one would see just how bad I was. I let myself into our apartment and saw Mrs. Paquinn sitting on the couch, Ty lying asleep with his head in her lap.

  Mrs. Paquinn is our next-door neighbor. She’s in her seventies but is quicker in the mind than most people I know. Whenever we needed a babysitter, she’s always more than willing to watch Ty, no questions asked. She lives alone and has done so for the last thirty years, her husband having died from a heart attack at an impossibly young age. She’s always fond of telling me that he hung on for two weeks afterward, too stubborn in this life to move onto the next. I knew that she’d had a daughter who had also passed away, but that was when she was very young. She’d said that God saw fit to bless her with one but that she was too precious, and so He took her right back. When I first heard that, it made me think that God was a possessive bastard.

  I had finally worked up the nerve to tell her what happened, thinking she would show pity and feel sorry for me like everyone else had. I even thought she would cry a little bit. But she did nothing of the sort, telling me that I was brave for what I was doing and that I reminded her of her Joseph, who had been her husband. She told me never to worry about asking for help with the Kid, that she would always watch him when I needed. We had always paid her before, as she lived on a fixed income, and I made sure that this did not change. The first time I’d done so, I could see her ready to protest, but there must have been something in my eyes because she looked at me for the longest time and then took the money without question. At least in that, I felt some kind of normalcy.

  I walked in the apartment and thanked her softly for watching Ty for me. Anna had also been at work, and Creed and Otter had had some kind of family dinner that they had to go to. Mrs. Paquinn had agreed immediately to watch Ty when I’d asked her the day before. She rose slowly from the couch, moving gently to not wake Ty. I paid her, and she hugged me as she always did, and I led her to the door, waiting until I saw she had gotten safely into her apartment next door before I closed my door.

  I went back to Ty and picked him up. He woke briefly, and saw that it was me carrying him and went back to sleep in my arms. Mrs. Paquinn had already gotten him into his pajamas, so I put him into his bed and pulled the covers over him, kissing the top of his head as I turned off the bedroom light. I left the door partway open so the light from the living room would act as a nightlight. I tried a few days ago to move into my mom’s old room now that it was available. That had led to a freak-out on Ty’s part. I learned quickly that he knew I had to leave him sometimes for work and such, but when I was home, I was expected to continue on in the way we had done before Mom had left. That meant sleeping in the same room. He didn’t care if we slept in our room or in the other bedroom, as long as we were together. We chose to stay in our room, even though it was smaller. Mom’s room still smelled like her. It was too much, too soon.

  On that night, however, that was far from my mind. That night was one of the nights that I’d found myself, frequently in those days, depressed, angry, feeling sorry for myself. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I made the decision at work that I wanted to be drunk. I knew that there’s nothing worse for depression than drinking by yourself, but I didn’t give a shit. My mom had left a bottle of Jim Beam in one of the cupboards. It was nasty, thick, and cloying, but it numbed me quickly, especially since I was drinking it directly from the bottle. Shortly, I found myself drunk and in a worse state than when I’d begun. A shadow crossed my heart, and I made my way to the bathtub, tremors rolling through my body. I took the bottle with me. I was upset. And drunk. And I wanted to talk to someone. Badly.

  I picked up my phone to call Anna or Creed and dialed Otter instead.

  He answered on the fourth ring. “Thank God you called. This dinner is still going on, and I have to tell you, my extended family is insufferable. Thanks for giving me an excuse to get away.”

  “My extended family sucks too,” I said, trying to make a joke, but it came out as Myyy tendin famries fluck toa.

  Otter sounded amused. “I take it that the Kid’s asleep, and you decided to partake in a little self-indulgence?”

  “Yesh,” I slurred. “I’rve freaking earned thissss.”

  “There’s no denying that. Where are you?”

  “In the tub. There’s quakes, and I needed to be safe,” I stated irrationally.

  “You okay?”

  “No. Come over.”

  “Okay.” No hesitation.

  “You’re eating family with your dinner. I don’t want to m
ess that up.”

  He snorted. “Screw ’em. Creed can keep them happy. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  A warning bell went off in the back of my head. “No, it’s okay,” but he had already disconnected.

  I tried to get up, to do what, I don’t know. I only succeeded in hitting my head on the soap dish that outcropped from the shower wall. I decided I was in no condition to even be thinking at that point, much less having Otter over, with everything that had been going on. I looked stupidly down at my phone, wondering how I had gone from wanting to call Creed or Anna to having Otter on his way over while I was hammered. I threw my phone into the hallway, where it bounced off the carpet into the wall. I reached over and turned on the shower and sat there as the cold water fell on me, willing myself to become sober. My clothes quickly became soaked and clung against my skin. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs and shivered.

  I was startled out of a daze sometime later when Otter walked into the bathroom. He was wearing a suit and tie, and I wondered why he had gotten so dressed up to come to my house. I wondered why I was still sitting in the shower, my skin numb and teeth chattering. I wondered why I noticed that Otter’s tie matched his eyes almost perfectly. He leaned against the bathroom doorway, big arms crossed against his chest, head cocked to the side as if he was trying to figure out just what the hell it was that I was doing. I felt like I needed to explain.

  “I got scared,” I said stupidly as I gestured around me. “This is the only place that’s safe when everything quakes.” He didn’t say anything; instead, he left the doorway and climbed into the bathtub with me, suit and all. He sat down next to me, our knees knocking together gently. He reached over to the faucet and flipped it until the water grew warm. I looked over at him, eyes wide.

  He saw me staring at him and shrugged. “It’s only a suit, Bear. And your lips are blue. Why’re you sitting here with the cold water on?”

  I looked down at my hands and realized how insane I must have looked when he walked into the bathroom. “I was trying to get sober,” I said, my voice sounding like the Kid’s.

  Otter snorted and lifted the bottle out of my hands. “I bet you were. Why in God’s name would you be drinking this shit?”

  “It’s all I had. It’s all my mom left,” I said, as if it explained everything.

  “Well, then, this won’t be so bad,” he said as he leaned forward and dumped the rest of the bottle into the toilet. I started to protest but thought better of it when he shook his head.

  “Fine,” I said. “I didn’t want any more anyways.” I put my head on my knees, finally starting to feel warm again. We sat for a bit, not talking, and that was okay. The shower was too loud to be able to talk properly, but it was good just to have someone there. I was conscious of his presence, his knee knocking against mine every so often, and I took comfort from it. I felt the world slowly right itself, and when I was sure the earthquake was over, I got up and reached over Otter and turned off the water. I got out of the bathtub and handed him a towel.

  “Better?” he asked as he took off his suit coat and tie. He rubbed the towel over his face and hair.

  “Yeah. You didn’t have to come over, Otter.”

  “I know.”

  “And now you’re all wet.”

  “You’re very observant when you’re drunk.”

  “Why’d you come here?”

  “You asked me to. Why’d you call me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully.

  “I don’t know, either, Bear. But I’m here now. And yes, I am soaking wet, as are you. Can I borrow some shorts and a shirt or something? We can’t stay in these clothes.”

  My mind took that the wrong way, and I felt an aftershock course through me.

  He followed me to my bedroom, where Ty was still asleep. He waited in the doorway while I grabbed some clothes for him. I tossed him an old shirt and some cargo shorts. He walked away, and I heard the bathroom door shut. I hoped he hadn’t notice how my hands were shaking. I told myself it was because I was cold. I felt like a liar.

  I quickly peeled off the wet clothes and used the towel to wipe down my chilled skin. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. I quickly found out I was still drunk when I couldn’t figure out how to work the zipper on my pants and my shirt ended up on me inside out and backward. I cursed softly.

  I walked out of the bedroom, making sure to leave the door partway open again, and went into the living room, where Otter was already sitting on the ugly couch. My clothes seemed to fit him better than they did me. The shirt was stretched tight against his chest and shoulders. The sleeves strained against his arms. I wondered drunkenly what would happen if I made him angry; I bet I wouldn’t like him when he’s angry. I felt my mouth go dry and chose to sit in a chair opposite him instead of on the couch next to him, trying to get the image of Otter as the Hulk out of my head.

  I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing. He didn’t say anything, either, and in my mind it became a contest to see who could hold out the longest before speaking. My drunken mind found this fascinating, at least until my drunken mouth opened and said, “I can’t do this, Otter.”

  “You can’t do what, Bear?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t listen to me. I’m drunk and not making sense.”

  “What can’t you do, Bear?” he repeated, and I swore at him in my head.

  “I can’t… I can’t take care of Ty,” I said, thinking I’d meant to say something else but not knowing what it could possibly be.

  He sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you really don’t have a choice in the matter. You have to.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I can’t do it, Otter.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Were you going to leave?” I said abruptly.

  This took him by surprise, and he recoiled as if I’d slapped him. “What?”

  “Back when we told Ty that Mom had left, the Kid asked you if you were staying, and you said you were, and Creed said something. I don’t remember what he said, but it made me think that you had plans to leave.”

  He shook his head but didn’t say anything. “Were you?” I insisted, suddenly needing an answer from him.

  “It doesn’t matter, Bear,” Otter said quietly, looking away from me.

  “Yes, it does. You don’t need to stay because of us.”

  “Us?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Me and Ty.”

  He shrugged. “I told you both I would.”

  “Don’t sacrifice anything for us, Otter,” I said, feeling anger ignite in my stomach. “I have to do that enough myself already, so don’t you do the same.”

  He didn’t say anything back.

  “Where are you going to go? Is it for work?”

  He shook his head.

  “No? No, what? It wasn’t for work?” I pushed, an edge in my voice. “Then what was it for? What were you going to do? When were you going to tell me?”

  “I’m not…,” he started then sighed.

  “Don’t be stupid, Otter. Answer the damn question. When are you leaving?”

  “Bear,” he said, his voice in that low warning tone. Usually it shut me up. Usually I stopped talking. But whether fueled by alcohol or rage, I couldn’t drop it. I couldn’t leave it alone.

  “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “Bear, just leave it alone!” Otter got up and started pacing back and forth.

  “Fuck you. I won’t! Tell me!”

  “I’m not going anywhere!”

  “Why not!” I shouted, not caring if the Kid woke up.

  He stopped pacing, and his eyes flashed at me. “If you don’t know already, then there’s no point in telling you,” he spat at me.

  I jumped up from my chair and stood in front of him, glaring up into his face. He scowled down at me, his eyes unflinching. I had never been that close to his face before and saw f
lecks of gold in the green of his eyes that I never knew existed. I wondered just how drunk I was because I felt my hands come up, and I knew I was going to punch Otter in the face or shove him to the ground. What I didn’t expect was my hands to wrap around the back of his neck and slide gently up to his hair, still wet from the shower. What I didn’t expect was for my hands to pull him toward me. What I didn’t expect was for his lips to meet mine, a grunt of surprise pouring from his mouth. What I didn’t expect was how warm he tasted and how good it felt and how I could tell when he got over his initial shock because he started to kiss me back, and my blood boiled, and I was electrified, and the whole universe shook to its core. Then I realized what was happening, what I was doing and who I was doing it with, and I froze as Otter’s hands trailed their way to my waist. As soon as his hands touched my hips, I jumped back, finding myself almost on the other side of the room.

  “Oh my God,” I moaned out loud as my stomach cramped, and I bent over from the pain of it. “Oh my God.”

  And so that’s how it happened. That’s how I ended up kissing my best friend’s big brother; Otter, who I had known for practically my entire cognizant life. Crazy, right? Especially since I’m not like that. I don’t know how it happened or why it happened or anything, okay? It just did. I remember stumbling away from him, and I muttered apologies, telling him I was drunk, and I didn’t know what I was doing and that’s not who I was and how I just needed to go to sleep and if he could just leave, and I would call him later. While babbling at him, I never met his eyes. My head was dizzy, and I felt sick to my stomach. I was almost to the couch and asking him incoherently if he wouldn’t tell Creed or Anna when the room started to spin. I lay down on the couch and saw him walking toward me, a concerned look on his face, and before I was gone, I remembered how his hair had felt under my fingers, wet and soft.

  SOMETIME later, I thought I had a dream. I dreamt that Otter had picked me up from the couch, carrying me in his arms. He took me to my bedroom and put me in my bed, pulling the comforter up to my chin. He sat on the bed beside me and rubbed my hair and caressed my cheek. I tried to talk to him, but my mouth felt full of cotton, and I couldn’t speak. I felt the bed shift as he stood, and he leaned over me and kissed me on the forehead. Before he pulled away, his lips came near my ear, and he said, “I’m sorry. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me one day.” I wanted to tell him it was okay even though I didn’t know what he was talking about. But he was already gone.