by TJ Klune
“Remind me never to do this again,” Creed says, echoing my thoughts. “Where the hell is Anna, and why isn’t she helping?”
I shrug. “Probably cleaning up inside,” I say, grimacing as I pick up a pile of wet something from the ground. I shudder and thrust it into the bag, trying not to think of what it could be.
I walk over to the table and start putting cups in the trash when I hear Creed walk up beside me. “You did a good job, Bear,” he says quietly. “The Kid is going to remember this forever.”
“He better,” I say, sitting down in a chair with a groan.
Creed eyes me. “I mean it, Bear. I’m proud of you.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know if I could be doing what you are if I was in your position.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think I could either, if it makes you feel any better,” I say wearily.
“I guess. Still….” He trails off.
“Why are you being all touchy-feely?” I ask him suspiciously. “What do you want?”
He jerks his head over his shoulder, and I lean over to look around him and see Otter standing by the jumping castle, tossing more shit into a garbage bag.
“Now?” I whine. “I’m so fucking tired, and there’s so much more shit to do.”
He waves me off. “Screw it. It’ll be here tomorrow, and I doubt you’re going to get Ty to move off that couch until then, so you might as well just stay here tonight. I think I’ll go ask Anna if she wants to start getting drunk with me so I can take advantage of her.” I throw a cup at him as he walks away.
“You owe me,” I call after him, and he flips me off, going inside and shutting the door. I look back over at Otter as he ties off a garbage bag and starts looking around at the ground for another one. There’s a fog rolling in off the ocean, and it’s starting to get cold. I sigh dejectedly and stand up and stretch, feeling like I’m going to war.
“Hi,” I say as I walk over to him.
“Hey, Bear,” he says. “Great party.”
“Thanks. You looked like you were having fun.”
He frowns. “I’ll probably feel it in the morning. Having twenty children dogpile you is a good way start to feel your age.”
I laugh. “I bet. If it makes you feel better, even I felt old today.”
He rolls his eyes. “So much better. Thank you, Bear. I’m what, only eight years older than you?”
“Someone’s got to be the old man around here.”
“Might as well be me, right?”
“Right.”
“So,” he says.
“So,” I say.
“What do Anna and Creed want you to talk to me about?”
I startle at this. “Huh?”
He snorts. “Creed isn’t exactly the master of subtlety. C’mon, Bear, you should know this by now. What did he say to me a few days ago? ‘You keep feeling sorry for yourself, Otter. You just keep on being a fag. Wait until I sic Bear on you again, then we’ll talk,’” he says, doing an eerie imitation of his younger brother. “You haven’t said two words to me since after you left last week, yet here you are.”
I curse under my breath. I look out over the back fence of their property and can see the ocean. It’s getting foggier by the second, and I shiver. Seagulls caw. I can hear the waves crashing down on the beach. “I’ve been thinking,” I say finally.
He arches his eyebrow. “About?”
“I guess what you said that night.”
He sighs. “I wondered if you would. You have a tendency to overanalyze everything.”
“Whatever.” We bend to pick up more trash. He holds the bag open in front of me as I shove paper plates in it. I avert my eyes to try and focus elsewhere, but I know we are heading toward dangerous ground, ground where there’s little to no footing. I begin to think this was a bad idea.
You might be the only one Otter will listen to, but I know for a fact he’s the only one you listen to, Creed says in my head.
He said that he’d thought he’d lost his only chance to be happy, Anna whispers.
Maybe Otter’s right, maybe I do think too much about things. But I wouldn’t have gotten this far, I wouldn’t have gotten Ty this far, had I not. I marvel again how people don’t seem to understand. It’s not their fault, I know, because they’ve never been in my position before. Being overanalytical is the only way we could have survived. I try to curb the irritation that’s rising in me. This conversation isn’t supposed to be about me. This is supposed to be about him.
“You think too much, Bear. You always have,” Otter insists, as if reading my thoughts. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s just who you are.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Don’t take it the wrong way. I do the same thing.”
“Yeah?” I say. “Maybe you should work on that.”
He looks at me, an amused annoyance splayed out across his face. “Since when did you get so mouthy?”
“You’ve missed a lot, Otter. Maybe you should stick around for while this time.”
“Bear—” he starts.
“You really think you’re getting too old now?” I interrupt him, an idea forming in my head.
“I guess.”
“Too old to get into the jumping castle?”
He laughs and looks surprised at the sound. He glances up at the looming deathtrap that Creed has on reserve until tomorrow morning. “I don’t know, Bear. I’ll probably end up popping it.”
“Stop being such a pussy,” I say, a note of challenge in my voice. He looks me up and down, and we both know he could squash me in a heartbeat. He drops the garbage bag and throws his hands up into the air and starts kicking his shoes off.
“There you go, old man. That’s better,” I say as I slip off my own shoes. He grumbles something threateningly at my person and walks over to the entrance, peering inside. I see him start to change his mind, so I put my foot on his ass and push as hard as I can. I hear him grunt as he falls face-first into the jumping castle.
I climb inside, and it’s dark, and I can’t see him, and then he grabs my arm in the same spot that he’d done earlier, and I almost have time to form a thought, whatever it might be, but then he throws me across the castle, and I bounce off the wall and land on my back. He moves quickly and jumps right next to me, causing me to lift in the air and fly into the wall again, all the while, a great bellowing laugh pouring from his mouth, reverberating through the tiny confines of the plastic castle. I get up and glare at him, and he covers his mouth and snickers.
“You should see your face right now,” he says through fits of laughter. “It’s so fucking priceless. You look like—” But that’s all he gets out as I run silently toward him and tackle him around the midsection, putting the full force of my shoulder behind it. I think I’ve won whatever it is that I’m trying to win, but everyone knows jumping castles are unfair. As I drive him into the wall, my socks slip on the rubber surface and both feet slide out from underneath me and frantically I try to grip something, but all I have is a handful of Otter, and I pull him down with me. I land flat on my back and only have a second to react before he crashes down on top of me, my head against his chest. I can feel him breathing heavily, and I can hear his heart beating rapidly in his chest. I lay frozen for a moment, willing myself to move, but I can’t. I can feel the length of his body resting against me, and it’s nothing like Anna, the only other person I’ve had against me like this. It’s strong and hard and smells distinctly male, and a billion things flash at me at once, and I can’t breathe, and I can’t move, and all I can think about is him being here with me now, and it’s like the last three years didn’t even happen, and it’s like he’s always been here and always been Otter, and I’m terrified because I can feel myself growing hard at the weight of him and even though he’s only there for a second, it feels like an eternity. Then he tenses as if electrified, and he moves quickly off of me, and I feel cold and surprised as a singular tear slides down my cheek.
He scampers off into a corner on t
he opposite side, his face hidden by the shadows. I hear him breathing raggedly, and he sounds feral as he growls at me, “What the hell are you doing?”
I say nothing.
“What do you want from me, Bear?” he barks, sudden and vicious.
“I don’t know,” I mumble truthfully, not knowing what else to say.
Bear, oh Bear, my mind whispers sadly.
He makes a pained noise and slumps against the wall. “Go back inside, Bear. Go back inside and leave me alone.”
I sit up and start to do just that and am at the entrance to the jumping castle when I stop. “What happened to you, Otter?” I ask without turning around. “Why’d you come back home?”
“Not now, Bear,” he begs. “I can’t do this now. Go away. Just go away.”
“No,” I say, turning to show him that I am suddenly angry. “No, you’re going to tell me, and you’re going to tell me now. I’ve put up with your bullshit for the last three fucking years and, goddamn it, you owe me.”
“Why do you care?” he grumbles.
“Because you’re my friend, Otter!” I shout at him, shaking. “Even after all that you’ve done, even after all of that, you’re still my friend! I don’t have anything else to give you, so you give me something back for once!” My words echo of the walls and dance across my mind. I still can’t see his face, but I don’t want to move any closer to him. I’ve never talked to anyone like I’ve talked to him over the last week. If I were him, I’d hate me. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. I feel shame slowly heating my face, and I feel like I should apologize, but I can’t. I won’t. However wrong I am for saying the things I’ve said, at least it’s been the truth.
“Otter,” I try again, my voice softer. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
“You said it already, Bear,” he tells me flatly. “You’ve got nothing left to give, and I certainly know I shouldn’t expect any more from you. You’ve done enough. I can’t expect you to be there for me when I wasn’t there for you.” He stands, wobbly, and works his way past me, out the front of the jumping castle. I stare stupidly after him.
So that’s it, I think dully. That’s it. I can’t do this anymore.
He’s halfway across the yard before I call out to him. I don’t mean to. It just happens. He stops, shoulders slumped. My feet are moving before I realize I’m running after him. I stop a few feet away, and he doesn’t turn around.
“What did you mean?” I ask before I can stop myself. “What did you mean, what you said to Anna?”
He sounds dejected. “What did I say to Anna, Bear?”
“You said you felt like you’d lost your one chance to be happy,” I tell him, the words falling out of me in a croak. “What did you mean?”
He tenses, and I think he’s going to turn around, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he does, but some part of me, that secret part, is willing him to turn, to face me so I can see the look on his face so I’ll know if he’s telling the truth with whatever he says. I’m drenched with sweat and I feel sick to my stomach but fucking turn around! Look at me! Give me something, goddamn you!
For a moment it looks like he will, but he doesn’t. He walks inside without saying anything.
He walks away from me.
Again.
THAT night, curled protectively around the Kid, I dream another dream.
I walk on the beach. The sky is blue and the water is blue and the sand is blue. Not the blue of day, but the blue-black of the ocean at night. Sometimes Otter walks with me, sometimes it’s my mom. They don’t say anything, so I don’t either. It’s okay, though; I don’t mind. I like walking on this midnight beach. I know nothing can hurt me here. I’ve fought for this place. It feels like the only fight I’ve ever known.
Otter disappears, and my mom is here in his place. She looks over at me curiously, and I hold out my hand to take hers, but she takes a step back and shakes her head. Then she’s gone, and it’s Otter standing next to me. I offer my hand again, and he refuses it, too, but steps closer to me. I feel his arm brush against mine. He points out to the water, and I start walking toward it, the waves crashing gently onto the beach. I follow him as he breaches the surf. My feet are wet and I stop. I try to call out to him, and I know he must hear me because he turns and holds out his hand, wanting me to be the one to take his. I hesitate, and he sees this, and then he’s gone, and it’s my mom again, wading the shallow waters, beckoning me to her. I take a step back.
And another.
And another.
Otter looks at me sadly. His eyes aren’t the bright green they should be, but the brown of my mother’s. He hangs his head, and his hand drops to his side. He turns and walks farther out, beyond the break. I know I can’t sit and watch him drown, but I’m so afraid of drowning with him that I don’t follow. The water surrounds his shoulders, and still he moves farther out, and there’s a moment, a bright shining break in the night blue, and I run after him, like I always knew I’d do. The water splashes up around me, and it’s sticky and heavy, but I don’t care. I have to get to him. He hears me coming and turns, and I see his eyes are green again, so beautifully gold and green that I laugh in relief. The water pours into my open mouth, and I am sinking, I am drowning. The surface closes over the top of my head, and I’m gone, gone, gone.
5.
Where Bear Learns
Several Truths
“YOU guys aren’t even going to care that I’m gone, are you?” Creed asks me and Anna.
I roll my eyes. “Creed, you’re going to Portland for a week. I do without you for months at a time, so I think I’ll be okay.” We are sitting outside on a bench at the grocery store. Anna and I are working but taking a smoke break, even though we don’t smoke. The principle is the same.
“I wasn’t just asking you,” he drawls. “Anna, you’re gonna miss me, right?”
“I am already counting the seconds until your return,” she says dramatically, putting her wrist against her forehead. “I pine for your return, dear Creed.” She gets up, kissing both of us on the head, saying she has to get back before she gets in trouble. She tells Creed not to do anything stupid while he’s gone.
Some of Creed’s friends from Phoenix are coming up to Portland for a week. He invited us to go, but I don’t dare take the time off of work, not while I am as ahead as I’ve been on the bills in a while. As much as I’d love to get the hell out of Seafare for a few days, there’s no way the Kid would allow it, and it would be kind of a drag to bring him along. Creed had waved that off, saying Ty could use some debauchery. I had gotten this horrifying image in my head of taking him to a strip club and immediately said no. Besides, he was still in school for another couple of weeks.
I looked down at my watch. “I thought you would have been gone by now.”
He shrugs. “I had some time to kill, and I wanted to swing by real quick before I left. We haven’t had much of a chance to talk since the party.”
The Kid’s birthday had been a week and a half ago and during that time, I had not been back over to the house. I had begged off, saying I was working, that I was tired. However true, I didn’t want to go back because of him. I couldn’t get the image out of my head of him walking away from me, the unanswered question still hanging in the air, refusing to die. The dream, that black-blue ocean. I felt the best thing to do would be to put as much distance between Otter and myself as possible until he returned to San Diego. He made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t need me, so I’ve decided to give him what he wants. Things get weird when I’m around him
I tap the wooden bench with my knuckles. “I told you,” I say. “I’ve been busy.”
“You’re a bad liar, Bear,” Creed says with a grin on his face. “You always have been. I guess I shouldn’t have forced you to talk to Otter, huh?”
“Is he still shut up in his room?” I ask, trying to sound bored.
“Yep. I think I see less of him now than I did before the party. Maybe it was a bad idea t
o send the Bear to maul him.”
“Keep that in mind next time, will you?” I say. “I’ve already got one quasi-depressed person to look after. I don’t need another one.”
He leans back on the bench. “I don’t think we’ll have to think about it much longer. I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be going back soon, anyways.”
My heart skips a beat, and I try not to notice. “What makes you say that?”
He glances at his watch. “Just a feeling, I guess. Call it ‘brotherly intuition’. He’s not going to stick around much longer. He can go be depressed anywhere; why stick around here and do it in the rain?”
Good, I think savagely. Good. Go home, Otter. Go home and let me get back to whatever it was I had before you came. At least I was able to recognize myself then. At least I was able to feel right then. At least—
At least what, Bear? it whispers, clearly amused. At least you were able to go an hour without him occupying your every thought? At least you’d be able to forget that damning hurt you felt as he walked away from you? It’s so much easier to hate them when they leave, isn’t it? Isn’t it?
“Bear, for God’s sake, pay attention to me!” Creed says, punching me in the arm. “I swear you’re worse than Otter sometimes.”
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“I gotta get going,” he says, standing. “Portland pussy is going to wait for no man.”
I grin. “I can’t wait for the day when you tell me you’ve got the clap.”
He cocks his head to the side. “That’s what you can’t wait for? Out of everything in the world, that’s what you can’t wait for? Bear, that’s just sad. And very, very mean of you. Just for that, if I do get the clap, I am going to pee in your mouth while you are sleeping, and then you can have the clap with me.” He starts grabbing his crotch and moaning, and I laugh and try to get away, but he presses me up against the wall. An old couple walks out of the store and stares at us. He waves at them and says, “It’s okay. We’re gay. This is my life partner, Greg.”