by T. J. Klune
“I can’t afford that,” I say quickly, already knowing what’s coming next.
“Don’t worry about that,” Creed says.
“Creed—”
“Bear? What am I?”
I sigh. “My brother.”
He cocks an eyebrow.
“My big brother.”
“Damn right. And what do my parents have in abundance?”
“A tolerance for someone like you?”
He glares at me.
I sigh again. “Disposable income.”
“And who just made a big speech about family and love and other gay things?”
Goddammit. “Me.”
“So I am going to e-mail my parents right now, while Mrs. Paquinn makes a few phone calls, and we are going to get this solved. And then you are going to crawl on your hands and knees and pray that Otter has taken all leave of his senses and take you back.”
“I….”
“You what?”
I look down at the ground. “What if he doesn’t take me back?”
“Would you blame him?” Creed asks curiously.
I shake my head. “I’m scared,” I say again. I look up at him.
His eyes soften, and he wraps me in his arms again. “I am too. But if we don’t take a chance, then what’s the point of all of this?” I’m okay until he kisses my cheek.
Surrounded by my family, for better or worse, I break.
Hopefully for the last time.
14.
Where Bear Makes Like Moses
and Parts the Sea
SO I came out (as what, I don’t quite know yet). I still believe what I said to Otter, that you can’t be gay for one person, but I am questioning it more and more these days as the idea of anyone but him starts the cold sweats all over again. I don’t know what the fuck I am anymore. I can talk a good game, but apparently my obsession with him can take over quicker than anything I’ve ever known. As much as I’d like to think I’m in control, I know I’m just along for the ride.
And where has this ride taken me? I’m frantically tearing through the streets in my car on the night of Creed’s going-away party after receiving a phone call from him saying Otter was leaving, and I needed to get there now. I break every Oregon driving law, knowing if a cop tries to pull me over, I’ll most likely end up on the eleven o’clock news after leading police on a 90-mph chase through the residential streets of Seafare. But, somehow, someway, I make it.
There are too many cars surrounding the house, so, naturally, I jump the curb and land in the front yard, barely remembering to put my car into park, but not bothering to turn it off as I race inside. The music is loud and there are people everywhere. Drinks are flowing, and people call out my name in surprise because I wasn’t supposed to be here. I’d decided not to come. I run up the stairs, knocking people down, forgetting to apologize because it doesn’t really matter, only he matters right now, and I think I’ll pause as I stand before his door—the sign proclaiming Otter’s Room nothing more than a ghost that only I can see—but I don’t stop at all. I slam into the door and it flies open, startling the two men inside. Otter looks up from his position leaning against his old desk, the look on his face full of something, something I can’t quite make out. His eyes widen as they rest on me, and the gold and green flash brightly. I want to tell him to stay, that I’ve started to fix everything and that I am so very, very sorry and won’t he please love me again because I can’t imagine my life without him by my side. And that’s when I register the other man. The dark, handsome stranger who walks toward me, a guarded smile on his face as he raises his hand to shake mine, saying, “You must be Bear. I’m Jonah, Oliver’s boyfriend.”
What the fu—
SO, HOW does this happen? How do I end up shaking the hand of a man I hate even though I’ve never met him?
Well.
Creed promised me he wouldn’t say anything to Otter until this whole Kid situation was resolved. I told him it was because I wanted to make sure that everything would be fixed. But he knew as well as I did that it was because I didn’t want to take the chance of hurting us all over again. It was hard for him, too, because now that the secret was out, Creed seemed way too gung ho about Otter and I being together.
“I can’t believe how I never saw it before,” he said. “You guys are perfect for each other. You’ll be able to put up with each other’s bullshit and leave me out of it.”
“Gee, you sure know how to make a guy feel good,” I replied, groaning as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
He grinned wickedly at me. “No, that’s apparently your job now.” His smile faded and his eyes grew thoughtful. “Seriously, though, does it hurt? You know, butt sex? I’ve always wondered—”
I fled the room.
I tried not to ask him too much about Otter, because what he would say was destroying my resolve. He said Otter barely came out of his room, and when he did, he looked like he hadn’t slept at all and would only speak in grunts. Creed didn’t know what Otter did in his room all day, but I could imagine, and that’s why I tried to force the thought of him to the back of my head. He was there, floating in the waves, mixed in with the rest of the white noise. I needed to make things right again. For all of us. But I couldn’t do that if Otter was the only thing to occupy my thoughts. So he went to the back, constant but quiet.
The Kid understood my motives, but he didn’t agree with the way I was going about it. “Why don’t you just tell him?” he said to me more than once. “At least he would know that there was something to look forward to, something worth fighting for.” Trying to deny the logic of the smartest nine-year-old in the world made the separation all that much more difficult. I didn’t know how to put my actions into words, to explain to them that I would rather die than see Otter look at me the way he did the last time I faced him. Cowardly? Maybe. Unfair? Possibly. Selfish? Undoubtedly. But in my head, I knew that I was preparing to give myself to him for as long as he would have me (whether or not this plan would work, and whether or not he’d take me back often mixed in—I’ve learned that I’m probably certifiable with the number of voices I have in my head).
It didn’t help that I dreamt of him every night.
It didn’t help that those dreams were so terrifying, so heartrending. It didn’t help that I usually woke with my dick harder than it’s ever been, forced to take matters into my own hand. I would be hunched over in the bathroom, my body howling at the familiarity of my hand, begging for it to be his strong calloused grip, that pull that was more experienced than I would ever be. Those nights, coming was painful, as if it came from a much deeper place than where humanly possible. I would be spent, staring at my reflection, wondering where those lines around my mouth came from, why my red-rimmed eyes never seemed to fade back to normal. This had to work. It had to.
Mrs. Paquinn lived up to her word and made an appointment for me to meet Erica Sharp, a lawyer with the impressively named firm of Weiss, Goldstein, and Eddington. I told Mrs. Paquinn I had never seen any of their commercials. She told me she was so happy I was on my way to joining the real world. I think she meant it as an insult, but I can’t quite figure out how. She called in a few favors, and a few days later, I had an appointment with an attorney in Portland.
On the day of, I sat in front of the mirror, trying to fix my tie, which seemed to somehow be inside out. I was listening for a knock at the door that would signal Mrs. Paquinn for Kid-watching duties when I heard a sigh.
“I don’t know why I can’t come with you. I mean, you’re trying to adopt me. Don’t you think they’re going to want to hear what I have to say?”
“I told you,” I muttered, wondering how the skinny end of the tie turned out longer than the fat end, “I am just going up there to feel her out. I need to make sure she can help us before we decide to do anything.” The stupid tie was obviously broken
He sighed again and came to stand in front of me, pushing me back so I sat on the bed. His hands batte
d mine away, and I lifted my chin, looking in the mirror and wondering if I should have gotten a haircut. Or shaved the wannabe facial hair that grew sparsely over my face.
“It’ll be fine. I mean, you’re wearing a tie and everything, right?” he said, the smile evident in his voice. “Are you going to be okay when you have to flirt with her?”
I cocked an eyebrow down at him. “Flirt with her? Why the hell would I have to do that?” Maybe I should change my shirt, I thought.
“Well, I was trying to research this whole situation,” he said, looping something over something else, “so I figured I may as well watch TV to do it, since the last time I turned on the computer, there was a picture of a guy wearing a jock strap and holding a soccer ball as our screen saver.” Goddammit, Creed. “Which, by the way, you should probably get rid of that, seeing as how you are trying to get custody of a nine-year-old boy. I don’t think that would fly too well with the courts.”
I choked down whatever thought was about to burst from my lips. I noticed the Kid was still talking, oblivious to the slow fire spreading up my neck. “I mean, why would anyone wear something like that? Jockstraps look gross, and do you really think he would have been playing soccer without any pants on?”
“Uh, Kid, I think it may be a good idea if this topic was never brought up again, especially if we happened to be visited by a social worker for this whole thing. I don’t think they would appreciate the subtle nuances of your line of questioning.”
He jerked the knot of the tie up to my neck, cutting off the rest of my reprimand. “Don’t make fun of me, Derrick,” he scolded. I felt properly rebuked.
“The lawyer?” I reminded him
He stepped back to check his work. I looked in the mirror and saw that the tie was perfect. How the hell he knew things like that was completely beyond me. “Right,” he said. “The lawyer. Well, since your porn was on our computer, and I thought I was probably already scarred for life, I figured watching some lawyer show would help me pick up on the law.”
“And?” I asked, heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. He followed.
“Well, I found one show, and the lawyer was this pretty lady. Well, actually, all the ladies were pretty, which I felt was an unrealistic depiction of the workplace. All the women at your work aren’t babes, so I think something gets lost in translation with what are obviously misguided TV producers.”
I grunted my response through a mouthful of Crest.
“Anyways, all the ladies at the law firm had trouble with their love lives, and this one guy was trying to convince the really pretty lawyer to take his case pro bono. Which, in case you don’t know, means—”
“I bnoe fut it smeans,” I said, gagging on the toothbrush.
“Well, he started flirting with her, saying he could make the case worth her while, and then she took off her shirt, and he took off his pants, and then she decided to represent him. Because he had a good case and nice assets.”
I stared at his reflection. “What lawyer show was this?”
He shrugged. “It pre-empted Dateline. The point is, you may need to flirt with the lawyer. Society wants you to help a lawyer’s self-esteem.” He was almost finished with the last sentence when his façade cracked and a grin spilled out over his face.
“You little shit,” I howled at him, and he ran screaming from the room, with me close on his heels.
“The neighbors aren’t going to make good character witnesses if they hear you abusing a child!” he shouted over his shoulder. He stopped after rounding the kitchen table in the kitchen, putting it between us.
“I think the neighbors will let this one slide,” I smirked, feinting left but going right. He fell for it, and I snagged his arm and spun him upside down, his feet pointed in my face, his arms dangling, his face red.
“Put me down, you overgrown ape!” he screamed at me. “This isn’t how someone wearing a tie should act!”
“It is if the person wearing it has an annoying little brother who thinks he’s so damn funny!” I yelled back, holding both his legs with the crook of my arm as I reached down to tickle his exposed stomach.
“Oh, real civilized!” he huffed out between screams of laughter. “I’m sure you’ll knock ’em dead for sure. Should I pack my bag now for when they come to take me away?”
This stopped me cold. Every fear put into one short sentence, uttered in the laughter of a child.
I set him down carefully, putting his feet on the ground, and knelt before him. He was still giggling quietly to himself, tears streaming down his scarlet face. I reached up and brushed the hair from his forehead. “You know I’ll never let that happen, right?” I murmured.
He smiled and it was beautiful. He jumped into my arms and said simply, “I know.”
There was a knock at the door.
“You may want to answer that,” he said, letting me go.
I went to the door, expecting Mrs. Paquinn, but not expecting Anna and Creed. So of course, all three were there. “We all set to go?” Creed asked, a grin on his face.
“We?”
He pushed his way inside, knocking me back, making room for Anna and Mrs. Paquinn, all of whom were doing an excellent job of ignoring my flaring nostrils and that vein pulsing out of my forehead.
“Well, yeah,” he said succinctly. “You did realize that you weren’t going by yourself, right? Don’t be stupid, Bear.”
“Yeah, don’t be stupid,” echoed Anna and Mrs. Paquinn.
“Yeah, don’t be—”
“Kid, don’t you dare say another word,” I snapped. I turned back to the others. “I made it very clear that I was going by myself. I told you this all specifically. Was there something that didn’t quite sink in with those words?”
Mrs. Paquinn rolled her eyes. “Don’t be daft, dear. Wasn’t it you that said those lovely things about us being family and some such? I remember being moved to tears because of it. Didn’t you, Anna?”
Anna nodded and looked me in the eyes. “Of course, Mrs. Paquinn. And he told us how much he loved us and that he needed our help. Right, Kid?”
Oh so now she wants to help me, I thought darkly.
“Right,” the Kid said, and I wondered if this whole thing was scripted, because it sounded a little too perfect. “And since, really, it’s all about me, I think I should have a say in who goes.”
“And?” Creed asked.
“We all go,” he said, grinning.
“And Creed said I get to drive!” Mrs. Paquinn cackled.
“Did you know she used to race stock cars?” Creed asked.
She beamed.
“YOU’VE got quite a cheering section, don’t you?” Ms. Erica Sharp of Weiss, Goldstein, and Eddington said to me, looking over my shoulder at the Kid, Anna, Creed, and Mrs. Paquinn, all seated behind me in her spacious office.
I grimaced. “You could say that.” I neglected to tell her that when the secretary called my name and motioned for me to Erica’s office, the others had all stood like their damn names had been called too.
I knew they were all smiling like idiots at the back of my head.
Erica shuffled through some papers on her desk. “Well, after speaking with you on the phone and doing some background checks to verify employment, residence, and the like, I’ve got to tell you, Derrick—”
“Bear,” the Kid said from behind me.
She arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
I pulled on my tie. It was choking the life out of me.
“His real name is Derrick, but everyone calls him Bear,” the Kid explained, having all the time in the world.
Erica nodded. “Well, then, Bear, I’ve got to tell you that I think I can help you. You said you’ve been watching him for how long now?”
“Uh, the last three years.”
“And your mother is… gone?” Her voice raised slightly on the last word.
“She took off to parts unknown,” I said, as if that would explain everything.
“Uh-huh
, I see. Do you know where?”
I shook my head. I felt them all doing the same behind me.
She pressed a button on her phone. “Josh?”
“Yes, Miz Sharp?”
“I need you to have a skip-trace run on a”—she looked down at her notes—“a Julie McKenna. M-C-K-E-N-N-A. Bear, what is her date of birth?”
I told her, and she informed the Josh in the machine.
“And Tyson’s father?” she asked me.
“His father was never in the picture. Why are you asking for my mom’s birthday? What’s a skip trace?”
She leaned forward. “Well, your mother will need to be found and notified of these proceedings.”
“What!” I exploded. How the fuck dare she! I started to stand, planning on taking the Kid by the hand and storming out, when I felt four different sets of hands on my shoulders, holding me down. That only made me angrier. “You can’t bring her back!” I hissed. “She’ll do everything she can to fuck this up!”
Erica eyed me evenly. No doubt she’s used to people yelling at her. After all, she is a lawyer. “Technically, she is still his mother and listed guardian. From what you’ve told me, the power of attorney you have was not correctly handled, especially since it deals with a minor. We are required to notify her, to give her an opportunity to respond. The same with his father if he was still a part of Tyson’s life. But if what you say is true, and if she has been gone for the last three years without a social visit, a phone call, or a dime, then I think she will have no ground to stand on.”
I groaned. “Damn.”
“Something I should know, Derrick?”
“His name is Bear,” all four voices chorused behind me.
“Uh, shit.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “She came back suddenly, a few days ago. And, uh.”
“And what?”
“She just showed up out of nowhere!” Anna snapped.
“Like she hadn’t been gone at all,” Creed growled.
“It was really quite a nightmare,” Mrs. Paquinn said, sniffing.
“And she threatened him!” the Kid exclaimed.