by T. J. Klune
Focus, McKenna. Focus.
Would I be bare-assed when he did it, or would I still have pants on?
Maybe just my underwear? He’s got big hands. Really big hands. I bet that would hurt. Like, a lot. Why am I so turned on by that?
Damn it, focus!
“What is it, then?” I ask Creed.
“I just told you,” he snaps at me.
“I heard what you said, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Do you remember what you said to me a few weeks ago? You sat right across from me and said ‘regardless of who you’re related to in this room, regardless of who you’ve fucked or who you’re fucking, I’m the most like you.’ Do you remember? I do.” He winces at my words, and his parents look horrified that their baby could ever even say such a thing. I can’t help but think that this is one of those dinners that everyone will remember but no one will ever want to admit they were at, like the time your Uncle Frank got drunk and started hitting on your cousins. Don’t give me that look. You know what I’m talking about. And at least you didn’t have cold tofeatloaf congealing right in front of you like a sad brown muskrat.
Well, at least now you don’t have to pretend to choke it down, it muses.
All you have to do next time is to just remember to get drunk and start having an emotional meltdown in front of everyone! Think of all the parties you’ll get invited to!
Shut up.
“That was different and you know it,” he tells me coldly. “You can’t compare that to now. Life doesn’t always bend and twist the way you want it to, Bear.”
He’s right, of course, and I tell him so. “So what is it, then? If nothing I’ve said is right, then what is it?”
He looks around helplessly, but everyone suddenly finds neat things to stare at on the ceiling or on their hands. He’s not going to get help from everyone, and suddenly, I don’t want him to open his mouth. I don’t want him to say what he’s going to say.
“You want to know so bad?” Creed whispers. “You push and you push, so you want to know so fucking bad?”
No, no, sir, I don’t, but I can’t seem to find a way to open my mouth (for once) to stop him.
“You were mine,” he says, his voice cracking ( oh, damn it all), “and I didn’t have to worry about sharing you with anyone because I knew you would always choose me. I know you had Anna, but Jesus, dude, she was your girl friend, and that was fucking different! You belonged to me, and I never thought I’d have to worry about another guy coming in to take my place. But then you told me about you and Otter, and whether you realize or not, whether or not you’ve been able to admit it to yourself or not, it goes back years. It wasn’t about this summer, or Otter coming home, or even three years ago when he left. You’ve always felt something for him, and it’s bullshit if you try to say otherwise!”
He knows me too well, can see the retort beginning to bubble at my lips, knowing it would sound false to both of us, no matter what I would try and say.
“Then you told us about you and Otter only when you had no other choice, but that was already after I’d heard it from him! You know how that felt, Bear? Knowing that my best friend couldn’t come to me with this? It was like you had no respect for me at all, like I was nothing to you. But that’s not what hurt the worst. What hurt the worst is Otter, my fucking brother, was the one taking you away from me. He was the one that would know you better than I ever could and do you know how much that hurt?
Hurts? I can’t love you like he can, no matter how much I wish I could. And that kills me.”
Uh… whoa. Okay. Okay. What?
“I want to be the one you come to when you need help. I want to be the one who can make everything better for you when you don’t think it can get any better. I want to be the one who makes you happy, who you run to when you’re not. But I can never be that person to you, not anymore. I don’t know if I ever was. So, yes, laugh it up, make fun of stupid Creed. Yes, I’m jealous, you bastard. I’m jealous because my brother has something with you that I will never have. He gets you completely, and it’s not fair. Not after all that we’ve been through. I want it to be me.” He stops, breathing heavily.
Silence.
Immediately, of course, my brain runs through everything he just said, trying to pick out what the hell he was talking about, trying to decide on what was the most important, but of course, I could only focus on the thing that was the most inconsequential.
Would you expect anything else?
Did you hear that? That was me sighing.
“Dude, did you just refer to yourself in the third person?” I ask him, my voice relaying just how incredibly messed up and awesome I think that is.
Crap. Now everyone is staring at me again.
Damn you, mouth!
But it seems to be the right thing to say because I can see Creed deflate, a smile quirking at the sides of his mouth, like he knows he still wants to be pissed off but he can’t help it. He starts chuckling, and that gets me going, and pretty soon we’re bellowing with laughter while everyone else in the room is looking around, wondering when the crazy sauce got spilled and infected the room. I can’t explain to them (seeing as how my brain is slowly being deprived of oxygen) that that is something only Creed could say, that he wishes he could be gay (or you know, whatever it is I’m supposed to be—let’s call it conveniently Otter-sexual) so he could have me all to himself and not have to worry about sharing me with anyone else. It’s such a mind-blowing thing, such a random expulsion of words that of course I have to laugh, because if I didn’t, I’m sure I’d be weirdly turned on even though it would be way too incestuous to even remotely consider the fact that Creed wanted to bone me, even if he didn’t swing that way.
“You h-have a s-straight crush on me?” I gasp out, holding my sides.
“Oh my God, you wish you could d-d- do me? Holy fuck me sideways!”
“You stay away from him,” Otter warns him, and it only makes it worse because poor Otter is so serious about it, his anger so evident that he looks like he would tear Creed apart if he so much as looks at me funny.
“I s-s- so didn’t want to say that out loud!” Creed says, starting to hyperventilate. “That was so not the p-p- point!”
“Better be careful, Otter,” Mrs. Paquinn says with evil in her voice.
“I’ve read many stories about triangles between brothers. It never ends well for one of them. Well, except, you know, those kinds of stories where they… share. At the same time. I like those stories.”
That only makes it worse. Otter doesn’t think it’s very funny, Anna is staring at her… whatever (boyfriend?) like he just blew chunks all over her.
I don’t blame her, though. Apparently she doesn’t have the greatest track record when it comes to guys, what with one falling in love with a man, the other wishing he could. The parents in the room are all sitting with wide eyes, and it’s only then do I realize how much I’ve missed all of them, how things only feel really complete now that they are here. They might be less inclined to agree at the moment, but in the end, I don’t know if that matters.
Creed and I both get up at the same time, and I practically run to him, and he laughs as he catches me in those big arms of his (don’t give me that look). I wrap my legs around his waist, and we just fucking laugh and laugh and laugh. It’s not that funny, I know. It’s not meant to be. It’s just life.
“You’re an idiot,” I tell him as we quiet down, and I step back onto my feet. “You fucking tell me shit from now on, you get me?”
“Goes both ways,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “We’re stuck with each other.”
I grab him in another hug. “You don’t ever worry,” I whisper fiercely in his ear, undoubtedly aided by the wine that’s been given an extra boost by the blood rush. “You’ve got me, no matter what. I just don’t want to screw you.”
“Oh, please,” he whispers back. “We both know it’d be me doing the screwing. Otter’s made you into a big fat bottom.” He pauses
for a moment.
Then: “Anna totally thinks I want to have sex with you, doesn’t she?”
“Uh, yeah. You pretty much said you did.”
“Crap.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Get off me, then.”
“You let go first.”
“On three.”
“Okay.
“One….”
“Two….”
“You’re not going to let go, are you?” Creed sighs.
“Neither were you. You love me too much.”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“I think Otter wants to murder you. Like, call you out for a duel or something.”
“I know, right? Did you see how black his eyes got?”
“Seriously. If he knew kung fu, he would have gone Bruce Lee all over your ass.”
“Ew. Is that what he does to you?”
“Are you trying to be funny? I’m kind of having a moment here.”
“This hug has been going on for a long time.”
“It really has. They’re probably still all staring at us.”
“Dude, how drunk are you? You just came out to my parents!”
“Oh shit. Oh shit. I think your mom laced that wine.”
“What? With what?”
“More wine. Duh. Do you love Anna?”
“Ah, hell. Do we have to talk about that now?”
“Why not? You’re still hugging me. I can’t stop now. With any luck, I’ll forget this whole thing ever happened when I wake up with the hangover from hell.”
“I don’t know, Bear. Maybe. I think I could. But, you know….”
“You live so far away?”
He sighs. “Yeah. I dunno. I’m worried that I started it for all the wrong reasons.”
“Like what?”
“Er… never mind.”
“Like what?” I shake him a little.
“Jesus, you’re like a dog with a bone. Oh, gross. Ha, ha! Why are we still hugging?”
“Tell me why and I’ll let you go.”
“Literally, this has to be the most awkward dinner since dinner was invented.”
“Right? Who do you think invented dinner?” I need to know.
“Cavemen. Jesus, give me a hard one, why don’t you?”
“Wow, you need to stop saying things.”
“Don’t I know it. My parents think I’m a fruit loop like you are.”
This worries me. “Are you?”
He thinks for a moment. “No,” he says finally. “I just wish….”
I nod. “I know,” I say quietly. “Doesn’t matter, though. You’re still my best friend.”
“Like I’m your fag hag?”
I look at him adoringly. “I love you,” I gush.
“Hey, remember when you didn’t know that you wanted Otter to spray his man babies all over your face and we didn’t have to talk about our feelings all the time?”
“Yeah, those were the good old days. So, Anna?”
“Shit, I thought you’d forgotten.”
“Bitch, please.”
“Ah, God. You’re going to have all these gay colloquialisms now, aren’t you?”
I raise my voice. “Kid, what does colloquialisms mean?”
“Of or relating to conversation. Are you guys done yet? This is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. My therapist is going to have his job cut out for him.”
“Therapist?” Creed asks me.
“Never mind. You’re the one who said ‘oh, snap’ earlier.”
“Oh yeah.”
“So, Anna?”
“You’ll know when I know, okay?”
“Okay. Peek over my shoulder. What is Otter doing?”
“Okay, hold on. Oh, fuck.”
“What!”
“You know that clenched jaw thing he does when he’s really pissed?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s way past that.”
“Oh, hell. Time to let go.”
“Okay. And, Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
“Let me go, you wannabe gay-mo.”
He does, but that’s okay.
“And the record for the longest hug in history goes to Bear and Creed,”
the Kid intones. “Congratulations. You have just made this the most uncomfortable moment of my life.”
“Wait until you hit puberty,” Creed says cheerfully as he goes to sit back down. “Between acne and hair in weird places, you’ll see what it really means to be uncomfortable.”
“What?” I ask Otter as I sit wobbly back in my chair. Fun. The room is starting to spin a bit. That should make the dinner even better.
“You and me,” he hisses in my ear, “we’re going to have a long chat later about who you belong to. You get me?”
Oh.
Oh, boy, do I.
4.
Where Bear Meets
Two Very Different People
BUT it didn’t happen that night. By the time we got home, I was full-on drunk, having spent the car ride home singing Duran Duran at the top of my lungs, asking the Kid if he was “hungry like the wooooooooooooooolf.” He told me no, he sure wasn’t.
Otter got me upstairs, and I started slinking around the room, dancing and asking him if he thought I was sexy. He said he thinks I’m always sexy.
Then I threw up and blamed him for letting me drink too much. And then I passed out.
It’s a good thing he says he loves me, because I’m a train wreck.
AFTER Creed’s and my Awkward Hug Extravaganza, dinner had only gotten more strained. There were questions that I didn’t really know how to answer (“Have you always felt this way about Otter?” Um, yes? Maybe?
“Don’t you think this is a little fast for all of you to be living together?”
That’s what I said, but Otter says it’s forever so…. “Forever? You’re both so young! You can’t possibly know what forever means!” I believed him when he said it. “Bear, we’re not trying to put you on the defensive.” Then stop acting like you’re attacking us! “Bear, we’re just worried! Can’t you see how this is such a shock to us?” Shock to you ? You guys aren’t the one whose whole world was turned upside down. “That’s what we mean….”).
And on and on, with me getting more flustered, with Otter getting angrier, the Kid looking like he was ready to bust some kneecaps. I could understand their questions, I could see their need for answers, but nothing we said seemed to satisfy them.
Of course it probably hadn’t helped when Otter—without discussing it with me first—had pulled out a check in the amount that his parents had fronted me to cover the custody attorney. And damn it if it wasn’t like an electroshock to the heart when he’d told them (against their protestations, of course) that we didn’t want their money, that he was man enough to take care of his own family just fine. Anything the Kid or I needed would come from him and that was final. He had already resumed his prior position at the photog studio he’d worked at before fleeing Seafare, and while that in itself was not a lot of money, he’d done more than well enough for all of us during his time in San Diego, and we didn’t have to worry about finances anytime soon. Part of me was horrified at this unintended emasculation (my old pride rearing its ugly head—I don’t know if I’ll ever be rid of it), but then he’d looked at me with such earnestness in his eyes that any argument to the contrary died in my mouth. And, I’m not ashamed to admit, there was something so unbelievably hot about Otter’s words, that glint in his eyes that just begged for his parents to speak against him, to doubt he could provide what he said he could. He believed it and therefore I believed it.
But that didn’t help when I hugged his mother good-bye and noticed it was much stiffer than the one I’d gotten in greeting. I couldn’t help but notice the way his father couldn’t quite meet my eye as he shook my hand.
Anna’s parents were still too blown away to do much but mumble at me as Otter practically carried
me from the house.
I’ve never understood their hesitation on the matter, but I know how much it hurts Otter. It was only a couple of nights ago that we’d lain awake in the dark, with him telling me in a low voice how surprised he was when he came out and was met with an almost cold indifference, how that surprise had quickly turned to anger and outrage that his parents, seemingly left-leaning quasi-hippies, would make such a big deal about something he considered so small. There was one point when he’d described the look on his father’s face when he’d come out, and his voice had cracked ever so subtly, but I heard it, that breaking cadence that tore at me like claws, and did the only thing I knew how: I gathered him up in my arms, stroking his hair as he lay on my chest, both of us waiting for the tremors that rolled through his chest and shoulders to subside.
If there’s one thing I know about, it’s earthquakes.
But it’s easier for me to say “fuck you” to his parents than it will ever be for him, and this is something I realize very clearly. My dad was never around, even though Jerry was kind of like one. My mom… well, you know about her. Alice was there more than she was. But there’s a knowledge in me, something that understands that these are not my parents. So while I can do my best to make sure that Otter is okay, that he knows he will always have a home with the Kid and me, I can still view the situation with a cool detachment that quickly turns into self-righteous anger. It bugs the crap out of me that I’d be so quick to distance myself from Jerry and Alice, but then I’ve never been in this position before, one where I gave a damn about someone other than the Kid and myself (I know, I know, what about Anna, right? It sucks. It really does. But something Creed said has stuck with me, even though it’s almost cold. Anna was my girl friend. It’s just fucking different, okay?).
But I can’t do any of that. I can’t cut them out, because Otter can’t.
They are a part of him and, by proxy, a part of me. So naturally, I started thinking of ways to fix it. And if history is any judge of the future, then I’ll probably just end up making things worse.
IT’S two days before I have my first class and three days before the Kid makes the move to the fifth grade with the awesome David Trent. Otter’s at the studio for the morning, getting reacquainted with the daily grind after having had a four-month vacation. He’d climbed over me when the alarm had gone off, nuzzling against my ear before heading off for the shower. I’d have joined him, but it was way too early, especially since he’d decided to hit the gym before going into work. I did my own workout by pulling the covers back over my head and sinking back down into the warmth. By the time I wake up again, he’s gone, but there’s a cooling cup of coffee on the nightstand next to me with a note that says some stuff I won’t bother repeating. Let’s just say Otter obviously thought he was writing into Penthouse forums when he’d authored that lovely piece of smut. And apparently he has more faith than I do with just how far I can bend my body.