by T. J. Klune
No. No. No.
All I need to do is breathe.
Just breathe.
In. Hold for three seconds.
I don’t want to go to the bathtub today.
Out. Hold for three seconds.
There are no earthquakes. I do not shake.
In. Hold for three seconds.
I am not having a panic attack. I am above it.
Out. Hold for three seconds.
Everything is fine. Everything is fine.
Bear and Otter see this, as they always do. And as always, they don’t speak, they don’t try to break me out of it. I know it kills Bear to see me this way and not be able to do anything, but Eddie told him it would only make it worse if he tried to interfere with my exercises. Bear’s always been my protector, and I know it causes him pain to not be able to stop these stupid little moments I have. I tried once to explain that it’s not his fault and that him just being there is all I need. I wasn’t very eloquent, as my explanation came at the end of one of these attacks. I was slightly hysterical after having convinced myself that Bear was going to leave that day for whatever reason and not come back. He understood, even if I hadn’t made much sense.
Much like he understands now. He knows that, sometimes, I don’t need words. I don’t need to talk it out. I just need him to be near me while I push through it. I hear his chair scrape as he stands and soon he’s kneeling next to me, twisting my chair until I’m facing him. I look down at my hands and then glance up at him through my eyelashes. He rubs his hand down my arm and I take his fingers in my lap and tug on them, something I’ve done as long as I can remember. It feels safer now. It feels like home.
“Kid,” he says gently.
“What?” I say, sounding snappish. I don’t mean to and I wince, trying to show him I’m sorry.
He looks like he’s choosing his words carefully, which, if you know Papa Bear, is a feat in and of itself. It also makes me dread the words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I know,” he says, “that Dom’s your best friend, and that’s a good reason for you to want this to be perfect. But… is something else going on? You seem a little… high-strung. Well, more so than usual. It’s been a while since you’ve had to do your exercises. At least that I’ve seen.” I don’t miss when he glances quickly at Otter or the subtle shake of Otter’s head in response.
“I’m fine,” I mutter. “There’s nothing wrong. I just want his party to go well so that he has fun. That’s all.” And that’s a big, fat lie, but I don’t want Bear to know that.
However, he doesn’t let it go. “Kid,” he says, “what’s so different about this year than all the ones before?”
Damn him.
I rub my hands over my face, wondering if I should push away from the table and head outside for a bit to clear my head. This moment has been moving closer and closer, and I don’t know if I’m ready to deal with it yet. Every day I look at the calendar and mark off each passing day and it reminds me of what will happen and what I cannot change, no matter how much I want it to. No matter how much I wish I could ask Dom to just go with—
No. It’s not fair to him. I can’t do that. I can’t. His life is here. He’s building it in Seafare and will continue to do so even when I’m not.
“It’s just….” I try to articulate, but it seems petty, childish. It seems beneath me that I should have these fears, that I should be feeling this way. It’s not who I am. It’s not the way I want to be. It’s not the way I was raised. I am so much bigger than this. I am so much stronger than this. Bear was better than this, and the stuff he had to go through was harder than anything I’m going through. I know nothing of sacrifice. I know nothing of pain. Not like what he had to do.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t ache with it.
Bear still waits, and he’s going to want an answer sooner rather than later. One of the promises I made when I stopped going to therapy was that I would talk out these moments, that I wouldn’t let them turn into something more. I laughed it off back then, figuring I was cured from my incredible neurosis, as even Bear seemed to have chilled as he got older. I made the promise, though. It was the only way Eddie, Otter, and Bear would agree to stop the weekly sessions.
And I’ve been fine. Mostly.
Puberty blows. I’m moody for no reason. I’m anxious. I’ve got hair growing in the oddest places. My voice cracks every now and then like it’s made of fragile glass. My eyebrows seem to want to make a unibrow. And I expected to shoot up at least another four or five inches, but no. Of course not. I’m a tiny, fretful, hairy dwarf, and I can’t wait until I outgrow this and get on with the rest of my life. Being a teenager is not all it’s cracked up to be. I can’t wait until I hit my midthirties.
And still he waits. Bear never had this much patience six years ago. It’s annoying is what it is. I think about growling at him to go away, but that’ll just make things worse. My hands are tense in his. He can feel it. He has to.
I’m articulate, so why can’t I find the words? Why does it seem like I’ll shatter if I open my mouth?
In. Hold for three seconds.
You can do this.
Out. Hold for three seconds.
Tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him.
“This is it, you know?” I tell him quietly.
“What’s it, Kid?”
I hesitate.
“Kid?” Otter asks. “Do you want me to leave so you and Bear can talk?”
I shake my head at once. “No. I need you here too, okay? You’re Otter. I need you as much as I need Bear.” And that’s true, but I still glance quickly at Bear, just to make sure that doesn’t make him mad. I don’t want him to be mad about something like that. It’s just gotten to the point in my head where they’re a team, they face things together. Bear’s my brother, but Otter’s my… what? Brother? Uncle?
Father?
Bear’s not upset. I really didn’t think he would be, but that smile on his face is still comforting. He doesn’t think I see him do it, but his gaze darts over to Otter’s, and they catch each other, just for a moment. It’s another one of those looks they have. It’s not something I’m privy to, the secret language they communicate with, but that’s okay. It’s not meant for me. It’s meant for them.
Otter stands from his seat at the table and moves his large frame until he’s in front of me. He sits on the kitchen floor, his knees bumping my shin. They’re surrounding me, letting me know they are there just by little touches. It’s almost too much. I need this to be over.
“It’s….” My voice comes out like a croak. I stop and clear my throat. I try again. “It’s stupid. I know. I keep trying to tell myself not to think like this. That it’s all for the best, that it won’t matter in the long run. That this is what I wanted, right? That this is what I want to do with my life. This is what I’ve been working toward. This is what all those late nights have been for, those times when I wanted to go to bed, but I couldn’t because there was a paper due or a presentation I had to give.”
Bear looks like he wants to speak, but his lips thin out into a bloodless line instead. He knows I have to get this out of me, like it’s bile or poison, but it’s hard for him to hear. I have to make it better for him, to not let him doubt himself. This isn’t about him, and I don’t want him to think he pushed me too far.
I look him in the eye. “And I’m okay with that, Papa Bear. It’s not that. It doesn’t have anything to do with that. If you didn’t think I could do it, then I wouldn’t have. You had faith in me, and I didn’t want to let you down.”
He makes a little noise in the back of his throat and opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again and shakes his head, gripping my hand tightly.
“Then what’s going on, Kid?” Otter asks, saying the words his husband cannot.
“This is…. God, this is so dumb. This is just….” Say it. Breathe and just say it. “This is just the last time I’ll be here to celebrate Dom’s birthday,” I say, the words po
uring out in a rush. It feels like a dam has broken and everything comes gushing out. “I don’t know why I’m focusing on that. I don’t know why I keep thinking about that. But I do. I can’t stop. It’s like these little pinpricks of fire across my brain. Just when I think it’s done and over with, it pokes again. It burns again. It’s all there again until it’s all I can think about. And I don’t know why it’s happening now, I don’t want it to be happening now, but it is. It is happening. I’m graduating in a month. I’m turning sixteen in a month. We’re moving to New Hampshire in four months. It’s what I wanted. It’s what I expected. I wanted Dartmouth. I wanted it and I got it. That’s what I should be focusing on, that’s what I should be reaching toward, but I can’t. I can’t fucking focus because all I can think about is how this fucking birthday is the last time I’m going to be here with him. Next year he’s going to turn twenty-three and I’ll be thousands of miles away and I can’t fucking focus.”
Bear opens his mouth to speak, but Otter grabs his hand and shakes his head.
Just breathe. That’s all I need to do. That’s all this is about. All I need to do is breathe. Like I was told. Eddie taught me that I’m bigger than my fears. I’m better than my fears. Hold it in for three seconds. One. Two. Three. Let it out for three seconds. One. Two. Three….
“Because he’s going to be fine, right?” I continue, ignoring the slightly high-pitched sound of my own voice. “He’s going to be fine and it’s not even going to matter. He’s probably getting too old for someone like me, anyway. I’m just a kid. I mean, my name is the Kid. He’s got other things to focus on. He’s got other things to worry about. He’s a cop now. He’s got to focus on that. He’s got to focus on that so he can go home every day safe and sound. That’s what he needs to focus on. Besides, he’s got all his cop friends and all his new buddies, and they’ve got to be the ones who take care of him now. They’ve got to be the ones to watch his back. I’m just some kid. I’m just—” My breath catches in my throat, but I push through it. “I’m just a little guy, you know? There’s not much I can do about it.”
“Kid…,” Bear starts, but then he stutters a bit. “Tyson,” he tries again, “why haven’t you brought this up before?”
I look at him incredulously. Hasn’t he heard a single word I’ve said? “Do you hear how I sound, Bear? Like I’ve got a mouthful of crazy! Of course I haven’t brought this up before. It’s ridiculous.”
His brow furrows and his jaw twitches. “And I distinctly remember a promise you made to us that you wouldn’t let things get this far. That you’d talk to us before you could start to panic.”
“I’m not panicking,” I mutter, even as my heart thuds in my chest. “I just thought….”
“You thought what?”
I look down at our hands. I touch his thumb, the knuckle between my fingers. “I just thought I could handle this.”
“That’s not part of the deal we made,” he reminds me. He sounds a bit pissed off but like he’s trying to hold it in. That makes me feel worse, but I don’t know how to tell him that.
“Bear,” Otter says quietly, knocking his leg gently against my shin. “Let’s let him finish. Okay? We’ll figure it out, but he needs to get it all out.”
Papa Bear looks like he wants to argue and sputters a bit, but then he deflates and nods. I don’t want him to pull his hand away. I don’t think he will, but I latch on to it just in case.
“I want to go,” I tell them. It’s a truth, though I don’t know how complete it is. “I need to go.” That’s more of a truth. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. “I know it’s a lot to ask, uprooting all our lives here. If I thought I could accomplish the same things in Seafare, I would stay. I don’t want to live anywhere else. But I have to. If I’m going to make anything of myself, I have to go. I have to see what I’m capable of. I have to see what I can do, because, Bear? Otter? I think… I think I can do a lot. I think I can make changes to the world. I think I can make it better. And I have to find out.”
“Ty, we know you can do it,” Otter says. “You know that. We’ve always believed in you. Your brother and I know that you’re going to do great things, no matter what you decide to do.”
Bear’s voice is harder. “Did Dominic say something to you? Is that what brought this on?”
I roll my eyes. “Really? What about him suggests to you he’d be petty like that? He’s all rah-rah Team Tyson like everyone else. He wouldn’t say a damn thing.” And he wouldn’t. As a matter of fact, Dom’s been pushing me more than anyone else about my future, telling me that I need to make something of myself, that I need to become someone like he didn’t. I try to tell him that of course he’s someone, because he’s someone to me, but he keeps pressing the issue. It almost hurts to hear, even if he means well.
“Why is that such a bad thing?” Otter asks, reading between my words.
I’m struggling to find the right words again. “Because… he’s…. Look, Bear, you’ve been here with me my whole life. Otter almost as long. And Creed and Anna and… Mrs. Paquinn.” Oh, how I wish you were here right now. “It’s all the same. But… Dom… he hasn’t been here the whole time. I… just don’t know that I’m done with him. There’s got to be more to say. He’s got to show me that….” Tears start to burn my eyes, and I can’t finish.
“You want him to tell you to stay,” Bear says, having one of those flashes of insight that only he can do with me. Dom may be my best friend and the one I want to tell my secrets to. Otter may be the father I never had. But it’s my brother who knows me better than anyone else in the world. Maybe that’s why I’m so desperate to have him near right now. I need him to listen and say the things I won’t, even if I can’t quite face them.
“No,” I say, though it’s a lie. “I don’t know. I’m all he has. What’s he going to do without me? Who’s going to remind him to eat? Who’s going to tell him that his clothes don’t match when he tries to wear plaid and stripes at the same time? Who’s going to remind him that his phone bill is due?”
Bear and Otter exchange one of those maddening looks, and I don’t know what it means. “Kid—Ty—you can’t make a decision on your future based upon your friend,” Bear says, and for a split second, the smallest moment in time, I hate him for his words. “You’ll never get anywhere in life like that.”
My eyes snap to his. “You make decisions based upon Otter all the time.”
He shakes his head. “That’s different and you know it.”
“How? How is that any different?”
“Otter’s my husband, Kid. He’s more than just my friend.”
“That’s not fair! Maybe Dom is—” more to me too, I almost say, but I stop myself, horrified at the words even as they try to spill from my mouth. I can’t look at that now. I can’t. Not with everything else going on. “Maybe Dom is very important to me,” I finish lamely, not looking at either of them, fearing what they’ll see in my eyes.
“We know he is,” Otter says. “He’s important to us too. He’s a part of this family as much as the others. You know that. But Bear is right. You can’t decide your whole future based upon the actions of one other person, especially if that person wants the same thing for you that everyone else wants, including you. And Bear, Ty’s right as well. We weren’t always like this. We weren’t always a couple, but we still made decisions with each other in mind, no matter how subconscious they were.”
“That’s different,” Bear insists. “You and I… we… that’s not going to happen with Dom and Ty. They’re not going to end up like us.”
That stings and I don’t know why.
He sighs. “Look. Maybe we are coming into this too fast. Maybe Ty’s not ready yet to go to college. We can always request a deferment and stay here another year and he can go to community college or to the U of O. Hell, he can do some kind of work-study or get a job flipping burgers.” He looks up at me. “Kid, we can do what you want to do, okay? I’m not very good at this whole parenting
thing, and it seems like all I’ve thought about is what I want for you. Not what you want. Not completely.”
“You’ve done just fine,” I tell him roughly. “Better than anyone ever.”
He smiles, though it has a melancholic curve that I want to wipe away. “And you’re growing up. You’re just… one day you’re just going to be this… man… this great man, and I know I won’t understand where the time has gone.” He squeezes my hand. “I just want to do right by you, okay? I want you to be able to do what you need to, to be okay.”
And can’t you see I need you to make the decision? You can’t leave me with a choice, Bear. You can’t. You just can’t, because I don’t know what I’ll choose. I’m scared of what I’ll choose. I need you to decide, and I might resent you for it, and I might even hate you for a time, but you’re my big brother and I need you to choose for me.
“Okay” is all I say.
“But it’s not something that can wait, Kid,” he warns. “If you decide we stay here, then you need to make the decision fast. We’ll need to give Dartmouth as much time as we can. I don’t think it’ll be an issue, given how much they were drooling over you, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll also need to see if I can re-up my teaching contract with the school district here and pull out of the one in New Hampshire.”
“And I’ll sit around and do nothing, like I always do,” Otter says with that crooked grin on his face.
“You guys would do that for me?” I ask in a small voice, feeling like a jerk that it’s even on the table.
“I’d do anything for you,” Bear says, suddenly fierce, with that gleam in his eye that comes out every now and then when he talks about me or Otter. “You know that. And until you turn eighteen, these are decisions we’ll all make. Together. After that… well….” He looks away. “We’ll see what happens after that.”
And it’s like I’m nine again, it’s like all I am is the Kid again, a know-it-all too-smart-for-my-own-good Kid again. I launch myself at him and he catches me, and I babble something in his ear that doesn’t make sense, but he understands it anyway as he holds me close.