Who We Are

by T. J. Klune

  I was careful with my reply, knowing exactly what he meant. “I remember that you came back.”

  This seemed to satisfy him. “I don’t know if I can forgive and forget so quickly,” he said. “I’m not like you, Bear. After all that I did, you still found some way to forgive me. I don’t know if I can do the same with my parents.

  It hurts too much.”

  I turned in his arms and cupped his face. “I forgave you because I love you,” I told him, that gold-green sparkling in the dark. “I forgave you because I needed to in order to forgive myself. You’ll do the same. You’ll see.”

  “And how do you know that?” he whispered hoarsely. “How can you know?”

  I smiled at him and gave him the words he’d once gifted to me. “I have faith,” I said simply.

  He kissed me, long and deep, but not before I saw the shine in his eyes.

  WHAT is it about brothers that make us act so much differently than we normally would? Why is there a bond there that doesn’t exist anywhere else? I can’t answer that, even though Tyson is my brother, even though Creed is my brother, even though Otter has grown to be more than my brother. My brothers shaped me to be who I am, whether or not I knew what was happening, and in return, I’d like to think I had a part in shaping them.

  These are the men (and one Kid) that I will need for the rest of my life.

  They might anger me, they might hurt me, they might make me want to pull my hair out, but I will never forget what I’ve learned from them, because regardless of what else happens, regardless of who we are or what we’ll become, they are my brothers, and they are mine.

  SO WE were told what we were, and although it didn’t immediately fix the tension between Otter and his parents, it was at least a start. You can’t just wipe away years of rigidity with a single conversation, no matter how sincere it might have been. I think, in fact, it might have made things slightly worse for Otter, at least for a short time, that the explanation for his parents’ reticence was one of family, of brothers. But regardless of the reasoning, I could still feel bitter for him, that they would let a ghost from their past cloud their relationship with their son. Even if we both could understand what it meant to be haunted, years cannot be corrected in a matter of days.

  I think Alice and Jerry knew that too. They stepped back and gave Otter time to think, time to figure things out on his own. They knew as well as I did that he would come to the right conclusion, if only given time. I wasn’t kidding when I told him that I had faith in him. I do. I know he’ll see it for what it is, and a day in the not so distant future will come, and Otter will wake up one morning and be past everything that has been gnawing at him.

  It’s not in Otter’s nature to hold grudges. He’s not like the rest of us.

  I don’t know what I did to deserve him, that’s for damn sure.

  It’s this I’m trying to keep in mind when he comes to me a few days later with a request so mind-boggling that I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it.

  He wants me to what?

  It’s Thursday night. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, trying to work through my psychology homework, not understanding the reading, wondering if maybe I could get Eddie to help me, but then getting the image in my head of Eddie asking me how the book makes me feel, and I shudder and shove that idea right out. It’s probably better to fail on my own than ask my brother’s gonzo therapist to help me. I consider briefly asking Isaiah to go over it with me, but I don’t think Otter would like that very much. He’s made it very clear he’d be okay if Isaiah was no longer subject to the laws of gravity and fell off the face of the earth, careening into space as his flesh froze against his bones (you think I’m exaggerating when I say that—I’m actually toning it down quite a bit; Otter really doesn’t like Isaiah). It’s my fault, really; I’d made the mistake of telling him that Isaiah had kissed me, however brief it might have been. I assured him that I had done nothing to bring it on (“Are you kidding?” he scowled. “You bring those things on by breathing”) and that I didn’t respond (at least my lips hadn’t; my dick…

  well, that’s another matter entirely. And don’t give me that look. I’m a guy in my early twenties who just discovered sex with men is fun; I can get a hard-on just by thinking about it. It’s not like Isaiah did anything special, so hush).

  Otter looked like he hadn’t believed me for a split second before demanding I switch classes, no, that I switch schools, no, that I stay in the house forever and never leave. It’s perfectly plausible, he told me. He’d go out and work and make sure I had food and water and that I would never get bored. I asked him if he thought I was his dog. He asked if Isaiah was hotter than he was. I told him he wasn’t, and that Otter was much, much bigger.

  This had given him a look of immediate satisfaction, and I let him ramble for a minute or two about how he could squash Isaiah with his rather large muscles, and couldn’t I tell that he’d been working out more? Couldn’t I see how much bigger his arms were? How much larger his chest was? I told him I couldn’t see it, really, through the clothes he was wearing. This immediately caused him to take off his shirt and pants, and I had no problems seeing how much bigger he was then and told him so.

  An hour later, we lay next to each other, spent and gasping, his spunk trickling out of my ass and down my thigh in a way that sounds pornographically disgusting but is actually pretty fucking hot. I kissed his chest, and he wiped my hair off my sweaty brow and leaned down to kiss me. He pulled away only slightly, his lips pressed against mine, and told me in no uncertain terms that if Isaiah tried anything with me again, he should probably look over his shoulder for the rest of his life because he wouldn’t be safe wherever he went. His threat was so quiet, so serious, that I couldn’t help but shudder in his arms. Isaiah would stand no chance against Otter.

  I smile at this memory while flipping through the psych text. I hear Otter getting off the phone after having spent fifteen minutes talking to whoever. The Kid sits across from me, working through his fractions homework. I consider briefly asking the Kid to explain Kohlberg’s theory of moral development to me, but stop myself, realizing I don’t really want to know if he knows what that means.

  Otter comes back in the room. I glance up at him and pause. He has that look on his face, that look of determination like he’s going to ask something he knows I won’t like (“You just have to try the escargot, Bear! It’s not going to bite you. They’re just snails, for Christ’s sake!” is one example;

  “Of course it’s a good idea to try page seventy-six in the gay Kama Sutra, Bear! No one ever got hurt trying to put their legs behind their ears! Stop being such a baby and let me fuck you tantrically!” is another). I close the psych text and fold my hands in front of me on the table and wait expectantly.

  He knows that I know something is up. “Now, you think about what I’m going to ask you before you say anything,” he says ominously.

  The Kid looks up and grins. “Conversations that start like that are my favorite. I can’t wait to hear what you’re going to ask.”

  “What did you do?” I say as my eyes narrow.

  “Nothing,” he says, then he adds, “yet.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That was my friend Jordan on the phone.”

  “Like way back in the day Jordan?” I vaguely remember him and some of the other friends Otter used to hang out with before he ran off to San Diego.

  He nods. “He’s been trying to get me to go out since I got back but, you know. Other things were more important.” He sighs, a big heavy sound, and now I know he’s trying to fuck with me. “Like how much I love you.” He tries to put smolder in his eyes, but it’s more like sparks dying on wet pavement.

  “That look almost worked on me,” I tell him. “Almost.”

  “That’s your face you make when you want something?” the Kid asks incredulously. “Otter, that made you look like you were surprised and constipated at the same time. You totally need to work on that. Bear�
�s a huge pushover when you get it right.”

  I glare at him. “I am not!”

  “Oh, you’re so right, Papa Bear,” he says seriously. Then he grins a dazzling smile, and his eyes go wide. “Can I have some soy ice cream since I’m almost done with my homework? Fractions are awfully hard, but I think I’m doing okay. I just need a little pick-me-up.”

  I stand up and pat his hand. “Sure, Kid. You’ve been doing awesome so far, so you deserve a little something.” I go to the freezer and pull out his ice cream, dishing some in a bowl and getting a spoon and putting it in front of him before sitting back down.

  “See?” the Kid says to Otter.

  My brow furls. “Wait a minute—”

  “Wow,” Otter says. “That was incredible to watch. So I’ve got to make my eyes look bigger and smile harder?”

  “Kid, did you just play me again—”

  “Your eyes and mouth are way too wide now, Otter. You look like you’re caught in the headlights, and you’re happy you’re about to get hit.”

  How dare they ignore me! “I can get what I want with looks too—”

  “Kid, I’m also trying to have sexy in my eyes too, you know? To make Bear melt a little so he’s putty in my hands.”

  “I’m not putty—”

  The Kid rolls his eyes. “What would I know about sexy? I’m nine. Now, love and romance, I know. I was the one that got you two together, after all.”

  “You were not—”

  “Did I ever tell you thank you for that, Kid? I can’t remember if I did or not.”

  “He didn’t do anything—”

  “That’s okay, Otter. I know you meant to but just got busy. Bear’s obviously a lot to deal with, so I wasn’t upset.

  “I’m just going to start saying random things now—”

  “Good, because I was worried you thought I didn’t appreciate everything you did,” Otter says.

  “I’m leaving you both for a trucker named Duke—”

  “You shouldn’t have to worry,” the Kid says. “You’ve done a lot for us.

  I know that. It’s the least I could do to make sure you guys realized you belonged together.”

  “And Duke and I are going to run an ostrich farm outside Oklahoma City—”

  “I realized it right away,” Otter says. “It was your brother that took some convincing.”

  “And Duke and I will adopt a pair of Pekingese, and I’ll name them Robert Redford and Beyoncé—”

  “I’m glad you stuck with it,” the Kid says, shoveling more ice cream in his mouth. “I know Bear isn’t the easiest person to convince. You gotta take the whole ‘wear him down’ method. Usually, he’ll cave.”

  “And then one day, Robert Redford and Beyoncé will have babies, and I’ll sell them in a box on the side of the road because Duke says we don’t have enough room at the ostrich farm, and I’ll be sad, but I’ll understand, and I’ll make sure each one gets a good home because, dammit, it’s what Robert Redford and Beyoncé would want!”

  Otter and the Kid are both staring at me. “What the hell are you talking about?” Otter frowns.

  The Kid sighs. “I worry about you sometimes, Papa Bear.”

  “What did you want?” I growl at Otter.

  He looks at me, and his eyes go wide and he smiles that crooked smile.

  “Good,” the Kid says encouragingly. “Keep it just like that.”

  “Some friends of mine want to go out to a bar in Portland this weekend.

  They asked if we wanted to go,” Otter says, still smiling. It’s a little creepy now.

  I frown. “That’s not a big deal. As long as Mrs. Paquinn can watch the Kid, and as long as Tyson is okay with it, I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “It’s a gay bar.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Uh… you can go.” Even though I don’t mean that at all.

  He looks at me knowingly. “The invite was for the both of us. My friends want to meet you, I haven’t hung out with them in forever, and we can both use a night off.”

  “Would either of you be going in drag?” the Kid asks. “I was researching gay history and I’m quite taken with drag queens. They have cool hats and stage names. I found a drag queen name generator online, and my drag name is Minerva Fox. I would probably sing a lot of Barbra.”

  “Who’s Barbra?” I ask him, glancing at Otter. Otter looks as baffled as I do.

  He shrugs. “All the pictures I saw said that drag queens sang Barbra. I don’t even know what that means.”

  “I’m almost afraid to ask, but why were you researching gay history?”

  He stares at me like I’m stupid. “You’re gay.”

  “I’m not….” I stop myself before that old argument comes up again. I’ll just keep telling myself I don’t like labels. Maybe one day I’ll even believe it. “Look, I don’t think I would be comfortable there.”

  “How would you know unless you tried?” the Kid says wisely.

  “Yeah, how would you know?” Otter echoes, sounding less wise.

  “Look, maybe next time, you know? I don’t think it’s a good idea. What with the whole custody thing going on. And stuff.”

  “Already on it,” Tyson says, dialing into his cell phone. “Erica? Hi! It’s me! Minerva Fox! What? No. It’s Tyson. Tyson McKenna? Minerva’s my stage name. Yeah, everything is fine. What? Oh, school is okay, I guess. It’s still a little easy, but I didn’t call to brag. No. No. Hey, is it okay if Bear goes to a gay bar? A gay bar! Yeah, with other gays. It won’t hurt his chances of getting custody of me? A what? A back room? What’s that? Why not? Okay. Okay. Thanks! Bye.”

  He grins at me from my position at the table where Otter’s holding me back. “She says you can go as long as you don’t end up in a seedy back room on your knees. What’s that mean?”

  “It’s where they play illegal poker,” Otter says with a straight face.

  “Oh,” the Kid says. “Well, I guess that makes sense. I don’t know why Erica wouldn’t tell me what it was. But why would you be playing poker on your knees? Wouldn’t you just sit in a chair?”

  “It adds to the mystery and excitement,” I tell him.

  “That doesn’t sound like a real thing at all,” the Kid mutters.

  “So I’ll call and tell them we’re going?” Otter asks me, his eyes flashing.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m going to a gay bar.” I scowl at him. “And that’s final.”

  7.

  Where Bear Goes to

  a Gay Bar

  YEAH. So that’s happening.

  “DO YOU even know what you’d wear?” Anna asks me the next day. “You don’t really have… clubbing clothes.” She looks at me disdainfully, as if my wardrobe is something cognizant and will bite her face off.

  “And you really do need to go all out, especially if it’s your first time going,” Isaiah points out even as Anna shoots him a dirty look. “What bar are you going to?”

  We’re sitting at a metal picnic table waiting for our psych class to start.

  Isaiah had sat down without being invited, and Anna clearly is not in an invitation kind of mood. Isaiah doesn’t seem to mind. I don’t, either. He seems to be okay, especially when he’s not pressing me up against walls or kissing me. I’m sure Otter will just love that he’s sitting on my side of the table even though there’s more room on the other side. I know Anna sure does.

  “PDXers,” I tell him. “Sounds… neat.”

  “That place is huge!” Isaiah says, laughing. “You’ll have fun, I’m sure.

  Hell, maybe I’ll even see you up there.” He gives me an appreciative leer that I don’t quite know what to do with. So I just stare.

  “Yes,” Anna says, her voice hard. “Maybe I want to go too, just so I can see what happens when Isaiah meets Otter for the first time. I wonder how that would go.”

  Isaiah waves his hand in an easy dismissal. “Walrus will love me,” he says, pretending to pick a hair off my shirtsleeve, but really just rubbi
ng my arm with his finger, a long slow stroke. I pull it away. “He’ll probably end up angling for a threesome. Then I’ll have to get my animal name so I can be a part of the group. So Native American of you white boys. I’ll probably go for something like Falcon. Or Wolf.”

  “Jackass suits you better,” Anna intones. “The noble donkey. And you’re white too. Pale and pasty white. Rather sickly looking if you ask me.

  Do you do drugs? You look like you do drugs.”

  “I’m going to win you over,” he tells her with a laugh. “One day, you’re going to say my name without an ounce of contempt.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “We’re not going to have a three-way with you,” I tell him, even though my dick thinks it’s a fantastic idea. Hormones that move independently of the brain are the bane of my existence.

  Right. Hormones, it chuckles. That must be it. I almost believed you.

  “Maybe a two-way, then, huh?” he grins. “You and me, and then me and Walrus. I don’t mind going twice.”

  This causes me to see red for a moment, and I have to grip the table before I grab him on the back of his head and smash his stupid face down on the stupid table to get him to shut his stupid fucking mouth. My jaw starts to ache from how tightly I’ve got it clenched, and holding onto the table is almost not enough to stop me.

  Anna sounds pleased when she says, “You see that look on his face, Jackass? That’s the face Bear makes when he thinks about anyone touching Otter but him. Otter makes the same face about Bear. So, please. Go on. I dare you.”

  He cocks his head while studying me. “Looks more like a Care Bear to me than a Grizzly,” he finally says. “But I hear you loud and clear. Hands off in front of Walrus.”

  “Hands off all the time,” I remind him.

  He plays offended. “You act like I have some disease that you’re going to catch.” He pauses and then looks at Anna. “I may not have thought what I just said through, and I hope you’re woman enough to take the high road.”

  She shrugs. “Doesn’t bother me in the slightest. You look like you’re diseased.”

  Isaiah sighs and looks at me. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that? It would be nice to have someone here to protect my virtue.”