by T. J. Klune
“The earthquake.”
“Yeah.”
“What stopped it?”
“Dom,” he says. “He breathed with me. And it was—I don’t know. It helped. Then I got to thinking about stuff, and I kind of got stuck in my head a little.”
“What about?”
“Everything, I guess. Hey, Bear?”
“Hey, Kid.”
“Do you think there’s such a thing as good earthquakes? Like if your heart is so full it causes everything to shake?”
“I think so,” I say carefully. “I’ve had moments like that before.”
He nods, like that’s what he expected to hear. “I guess we’ll always be a little crazy, won’t we.”
Otter snorts. “That’s not a bad thing,” he says. “Trust me on that. And I know for a fact that Dom feels the same way.”
“They’re the weird ones,” I whisper loudly to Ty. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
He laughs, and it’s a good sound. A strong sound. He’s got this. I know he does.
He says, “I just—I got stuck. I started thinking about everything. These moments, you know? Everything that has brought me here, now. It’s strange. I didn’t—we shouldn’t have made it. We shouldn’t have survived. But we did. We made it here.” He glances at the worn and weathered cross. “Well. Almost all of us.” He shakes his head. “I got stuck and I needed to be by her. For a little bit. She—”
“I told Otter earlier that I wished she was here,” I say.
He looks up at me sharply. “You did?”
I nod. “She’d love this. All of this. All of us.”
His voice is small when he asks, “You think she’d be proud of me?”
I have to look away, out at the ocean. We’d stood here once and overturned an urn, and the ashes of her had caught in the wind. She’d blown away into the sea. “I know she would,” I tell him roughly. “She’d tell you to get your head out of your ass, but that you’ve become everything she’d thought you’d be.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, Kid.”
“You too, huh? You know she’d say the same about you.”
My smile is a fragile thing. “I know.”
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It’s not Dom. I’m never worried about him.”
“We know that,” Otter says. “You wouldn’t be here if you were.”
“We’re inevitable. Him and me.”
“We know that too.”
“I need you guys,” he says suddenly. “You know that, right? Even though I’m getting married, I need you both. I’ll probably need you both forever.”
He laughs when we both hug him at the same time.
OTTER LEAVES us, saying he’ll tell everyone we’ll be right behind him. He kisses both of us on the top of our head and wanders down the beach, where we can hear the sound of music and bright laughter. They’re waiting for us—for him, really—but we need this, I think.
We’re quiet for a time, watching Otter disappear over the hills.
“He’s the best,” Ty says quietly.
“He really is.”
“Is it—it’s hard, isn’t it?”
“Being married?”
“Yes. No. Okay, yes. All of it.”
“A little. But if you love someone enough to marry them, then you do anything you can to make it work. Most of the time, everything is good. Sometimes it’s not. But I make sure he knows I love him, and he does the same for me. We’re a team.”
He looks out at the ocean again. “I don’t know if we would have made it. Without him.”
He’s not wrong, but I don’t know if that’s precisely giving us enough credit. “Maybe. Or maybe we would have. There’s a difference between being alive and actually living. He helped us to live, I think. We weren’t doing that. Before.”
“We were surviving.”
I nod. “And it worked for us. At the time. But it wouldn’t have lasted forever. Something had to give.”
“You told me once that you knew he was it for you when you were breaking up with him. Because of her.”
It hurts to hear, even now. “Yeah.”
“I knew Dom was it for me that day in the hallway. When I saw him and Stacey together. I thought I was going to break.”
I sigh. “I know, Kid. And look where we are now. It’s funny how things work out.”
“I’m getting married today.”
“You are.”
“To my best friend.”
“I know.”
“And you’re going to be there. By my side.”
“Always, Kid.”
“Okay.” He nods, steeling his shoulders a little. “I think I’m ready now.”
I grin at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smiles back at me. “Tyson Miller has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
“It does.”
He pulls me up, and we stand side by side. I put my arm around him, and he lays his head on my shoulder. It’s good to be with him like this before everything. It feels right.
Before we leave, he presses his fingers against his lips and then touches them to the cross in the sand.
DO YOU remember how it all began?
I do.
We were different people then, I think.
But here, now, is not about that beginning.
It’s about a different one entirely.
Because as one story ends, another one always begins.
Life turns. It will always turn, and I know there are so many things ahead of us. So many things to look forward to.
I told you once that family is not defined by blood. It’s not always who you’re born to that you’re stuck with. It’s what you want it to be, what you make of it. It’s the people around you who see you at your worst and are not afraid to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. It’s the people who can call you on your bullshit. It’s the people who look at you each time they see you like they haven’t seen you in years. It’s the people who you fight for. It’s the people who you’d lay down your life for. It’s scary, but it’s the greatest thing in the world.
It’s not about where you come from. It’s about who you are.
This is who I am:
I’m watching my daughter walk down the aisle, throwing flowers in dainty bunches.
My son is at her side, clutching a couple of rings in his hands.
AJ follows behind them, blowing bubbles, but then trying to pop them before they can get too far away from him. He’s certainly his father’s son, no question about that.
They’re all preening like little show dogs as people aww and coo over them as they pass.
Anna and Creed are next, Anna waddling just a little. She’s seven months along with what she has dubbed their “oops.” It’s a boy. Creed couldn’t be happier. Anna tried to throw a medical tray at his head when they found out but then had burst into tears with how thrilled she was.
After them are Izzie and JJ, Izzie looking long-suffering as JJ smiles at her dopily, his crush only having increased exponentially in the last three years since it began. JJ says they’re going to get married one day. Creed says that sounds awfully close to inbreeding. Izzie says that she would chew JJ up and spit him out. It’s a work in progress.
We follow them, my husband and I, walking arm in arm.
Noah waves at us, yelling, “Hi, Daddy! Hi, Papa!” as he stands in front of Creed. Lily looks embarrassed but then waves at us too, not to be outdone by her brother.
Dom laughs as we approach, looking flushed and happier than I’ve ever seen him before. His suit is tight across his arms and chest, and his hands are clasped in front of him. But I can see the way his eyes dart behind us, knowing who he’s waiting for. What it means. His son, Ben, stands at his side. Next to him is Stacey, holding Ben’s hand, and Ben is staring at his father adoringly.
Alice and Jerry sit next to Ian and Stephanie in the front row, Jerry and Ian dabbing their eyes while Alice and Stephanie con
sole them. Megan and Marty sit behind them, their two-year-old daughter, Clover (no, I’m not joking; yes, it’s the worst name in the world), sitting on her father’s lap.
This is who I am, okay?
These people.
It’s in the warmth I feel at them standing at my side.
It’s the way my son’s hand feels in mine.
The way my daughter raises her arms for her daddy to pick her up.
The way JJ sighs dreamily at Izzie.
The way Izzie elbows him in the gut.
It’s in the way Creed tells him to keep it in his pants, while Anna sighs and shakes her head.
And it’s in the way Dom takes a sharp breath at the sight of my brother walking toward him, like the very idea of breathing has become an impossibility. It’s in the way Ty only has eyes for him with each deliberate step he takes. It’s in the way Dom cries the moment before he kisses Tyson for the first time as a married couple, the way our family stands and yells and throws confetti, the way they surround us, everyone talking all at once, voices joyous and happy. It’s in the way that I think I catch sight of an old woman smiling at us from just down the beach, raising a hand just once, but as soon as I look again, there’s no one there.
These are the moments.
For better or worse, this is us.
For all of our wrongs and for all of our rights, this is us.
WE’VE BEEN on this road for a while now, you and I.
And I thank you for that.
But I think there comes a time in every story when the end comes, the pages dwindling, the people happy.
And we are.
I promise you.
We’re happy.
There may be days that are harder than others, but that’s life. We’ll figure it out. We always do.
Thank you. For this. For listening all this time.
Saying goodbye is rough. I think I told you once that goodbye sounds so stupid and final and blah, blah, blah. But I was younger then. I didn’t know what I know now.
Roads can diverge.
It’s tough but true.
It’ll be okay. In the end.
So you’ll go one way.
And we’ll go another.
Maybe one day we’ll meet again.
But even if we don’t, remember this:
We have lived.
We have loved.
We have lost.
But we’re standing. For all that we are, we’re still standing.
I TOLD my brother that I wasn’t going to embarrass him in my best man speech. Even though I have so many stories that I could tell all of you. Like that time he wrote a love letter to Anderson Cooper when he was ten, convinced that they were going to get married—okay! Okay. I won’t tell them the rest. Stop glaring at me. Jesus Christ. Anyway, I told him I wasn’t going to embarrass him, so I suppose I’ll stick to that promise. And I also promised to keep this short and sweet, since apparently I’m known to ramble, which I disagree with completely. But I digress.
I—sorry. Didn’t think I’d get choked up this quickly. Um. There’s something you should know about my brother and me. We—things weren’t so good for us. When we were younger. We had… we didn’t have the best life. Things happened that don’t need to be delved into here, but I… I remember once, he couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, when I’d come home from a late shift working at the grocery store. I was tired and sad and hoping the overtime I’d been working would be enough to cover that month’s rent. I was too proud to ask for help, telling myself that I could do it on my own. I was stupid, but that’s… that’s how it was for me.
I came home, and Mrs. Paquinn… she, well. She told me to get some rest, and that Joseph, her husband, God love him, used to work too hard and not sleep enough, and she wouldn’t have that for me. She kissed me on the cheek and went next door to her own apartment.
Ty, he was—he was still awake. When I went to our room. And I remember looking at him when he smiled at me, telling me all about his day, and I was so sad because I wanted nothing more than to make sure everything would be okay for him, that he’d be the happiest Kid who ever lived, but I wasn’t sure that I could do it. And I don’t remember how it happened, but he must have seen something on my face because he stood up on his bed and jumped on me, wrapping his legs around my waist, his hands going into my hair like he always did. He was babbling in my ear, and he told me that everything was going to be okay, because we were together. That we would always be together, and even though we could be sad sometimes, we had to remember that.
And I—I did. I remembered that. When I got sad. I remembered that we were together. And I tell you this because of how remarkable he was, even back then. I would not be here today without him. He is my brother, and I am so happy to be able to see him marry the love of his life. Dom, you’ve always been a part of us, but now you’re my brother too. Thank you, and I know you’ll have the happiest of endings.
And Ty—I… we’re together. I’ve never forgotten that, okay? We’re together. You and me. I love you, Kid.
Ugh. Now that I’ve cried in front of all of you people, a toast, if you could all raise your glasses. To the happy couple. May Dom and Tyson know joy for the rest of their days. The road ahead may be long and winding, but as long as you remember to love each other with your whole hearts, I know it’ll be a journey worth taking.
Epilogue: Or, Otter’s Perspective, As It Were
(So Long, My Old Friends)
Twelve Years Later
“YOU GUYS ready?” I call up the stairs.
When I get an affirmative from three separate voices, I walk into the kitchen. Bear’s on the phone, sounding a little frantic as he empties the dishwasher.
“Creed, I don’t care why JJ thinks eating pot brownies makes him smarter. He is not allowed to give Lily weed for her birthday, no matter what she says. He knows I—well. I didn’t say I didn’t want it for my birthday. No. I take that back. I am fifty years old. You are not going to peer pressure me into this. I will just get drunk off wine like a normal adult. We have a cop in this family. Do you know how embarrassing that would be to get arrested? Right. Again. How embarrassing it would be to get arrested again. That time wasn’t my fault. I would throw those lemon bars at that homophobic PTA mom again if I had to. She had it coming, and her lemon bars were dry. And I know pot is legal here, but do you really think Dom gives two shits about that?”
Sometimes, it’s better not to ask.
Other times, you have to bail your husband out of jail while his little brother’s husband grins at you smugly.
Life is strange sometimes.
Good, but strange.
“Creed, I’ll be over in a bit. I gotta say goodbye to Otter and the kids before I head out. Tell Anna that I—no, Creed. JJ is not allowed to date Izzie. She’s—she lives on the other side of the country. JJ lives in your basement. She’s not going to—oh my god, we’ll talk about this later. Goodbye, Creed.”
Bear hangs up the phone, glaring down at the silverware in his hand before he drops it into the open drawer.
We’re older now. The both of us. The lines around his eyes are pronounced, and he’s got streaks of gray in his hair that Ty gives him so much grief over. He doesn’t move as quickly as he used to, and I still think he’s too thin, but he’s still got that fire in his eyes, his mind still moving almost quicker than I can keep up with.
To me, he’s perfect.
He always has been.
“Trouble in paradise?” I ask lightly.
He looks up at me and scowls. “Your nephew asked if he could give Lily pot for her birthday. Pot, Otter. Marijuana. Because apparently she asked for it.”
“This isn’t going to go well, is it?”
“You’re damn right it’s not,” Bear says, eyes flashing. “There’s going to be some words. You can bet your ass on that.”
“Or,” I tell him, “You can go do your guy’s day with Creed, and I’ll do lunch with the kids and get a
s much info on it as possible and then promise not to say anything but then tell you everything as soon as we get home.”
He grins at me, and even now, after all these years, my heart trips a little at the sight. “God, I love you,” he says. “So devious. We’re pretty much the best parents who ever existed.”
I roll my eyes as I step forward, placing my hands on the counter on either side of him, boxing him in. He tilts his head back to look up at me, a mischievous look on his face. He leans up and kisses my jaw once. Then again.
“I have a better idea,” he says, chest bumping mine. “We tell the kids to get the hell out of the house, and then you take me upstairs, and we get naked.”
I kiss him fiercely, because I can, his tongue brushing against mine.
“I read that your libido is supposed to be one of the first things to go when you get older,” a disgusted voice says from behind us. “I wish that was the case in this house. Old people should not be allowed to eat each other’s faces in front of impressionable youths.”
Bear and I both sigh at the same time into each other’s mouths.
We’ve had a lot of practice doing that.
“You hear that?” Bear says, murmuring against my lips. “We’re old people.”
“And apparently eating each other’s faces,” I whisper back. “Maybe we need to have the sex talk with them again, because I don’t know if we did it right.”
“Lily?” another voice says. “What are you staring at—are they making out again? My eyes! God, someone get the spray bottle so we can soak them! It’s like they’re in heat all the time!”
Instead of stepping away from Bear, I curl my arm around his shoulders and pull him to my side before turning around.
Lily and Noah stand in the kitchen entryway, looking scandalized, as only sixteen-year-olds are able to do. They’re bigger now, obviously, and almost spitting images of how Ty and Bear looked at that age. Lily is still bright and brash and sarcastic. She tends to step on people in a rush to get things done, but she’s learning to apologize for it. She’s an amazing young woman who is going to change the world someday.