Bear, Otter, & the Kid 01 - Bear, Otter, & the Kid (MM)

by TJ Klune

  As he drives to the airport, he’s filled with nervous excitement. As he’s on the plane, he’s filled with quiet dread. As the plane lands, he’s filled with large doses of panic. As he drives the rental car, he’s absolutely terrified. As he pulls into the driveway and sees my car, he’s about to pass out. As he opens the kitchen door and sees me alone, he thinks it looks like I’ve been waiting for him. He can’t help but grin. He doesn’t hesitate. He drops his bag and rushes quickly to me and wraps his arms around me. He inhales and feels my body against his, and he feels my arms start to rise up around him, and he’s already planning in his head to move back, and he doesn’t understand how in God’s name he had left in the first place. He knows I am still dating Anna, and he knows he’ll never have me the way he wants, but at least he can be near me. He thinks it’s all going to be okay. Then I pull away from him, and it’s like a kick to the balls, and he doesn’t know what to do.

  He follows me into the living room and tries to think of things to say. By the time he’s settled on something sort of witty, he’s in the living room, and his parents are standing with happy surprise, wrapping their arms around him. Creed stands up and pounds his back happily. Ty jumps up, and Otter catches him in outstretched arms and spins him around. Otter looks at me, but I’m not looking at him. My jaw is tense and my brow furrowed, and so many things run through his mind, and he can’t focus clearly. Throughout the night, he asks me questions that I ignore or answer to someone else. Eventually he stops and just looks at me. No one else notices anything wrong. Otter thinks it’s his fault that I’ve become so cold. It’s his fault I’ve changed.

  Throughout the week, he feels like he’s on a roller coaster and can’t get off. He wakes in the mornings, sure this is going to be the day that he will get to see me. He goes to bed at night dejected. The morning comes, and it starts all over. He sees Anna when she comes over and is overjoyed to see Ty with her. He waits expectantly for me to follow, but I don’t. He doesn’t know then that he won’t see me again for another year and a half.

  Two days later, he’s talking with Jonah on the phone. Jonah is happy Otter decided to go home for the holidays. Jonah tells him he can’t wait to see him. Otter tells him it is cold and raining in Seafare. Jonah tells him how much he’s missed him. Otter tells him of a movie that he wants to see when he gets back. Jonah says he got him a Christmas present that he’s just going to love. Otter is about to tell him that he has to go, when he stops. He thinks again that he could love this man if he gave him the chance. He thinks that he could find some semblance of happiness if only he let himself. He tries to get back into the conversation, but he’s tired, and his heart is just not in it. Jonah hears something in his voice and asks him about it.

  “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,” Otter says. He has a headache now.

  “Did you get to see your friend?” Jonah asks. “The one with the kid?”

  “Uh. Yeah. Yes, I did. A few days ago,” Otter says, wishing Jonah would stop talking.

  “How is he?”

  “Fine. He’s fine.” And I am, and he knows this, and it hurts him. Not because he wanted to see me suffer but because he can claim no credit to my current situation. After all, he’s the one that’s run away.

  “Otter?” Jonah asks. “Did you….” He hesitates. “Did you ever date him?”

  Otter laughs harshly. “No. He’s straight. Why would you ask that?”

  “I don’t know. Anytime you’ve ever mentioned him, you get this weird tone in your voice, and I guess I just assumed.” Jonah sounds relieved, and Otter finds this strange. But he opens his mouth and suddenly finds himself about to tell him what really happened between us. He utters the first word but then stops. He blinks, confused. Why had he stopped? Why had he started? He thinks he won’t tell Jonah now because he doesn’t yet trust him completely. He thinks he won’t say anything because it doesn’t matter. But he knows the real reason in his heart. He doesn’t tell Jonah because it’s a secret, our secret, and to Otter, this is almost sickly romantic.

  The day comes when Otter has to go home. He’s exhausted because he’s spent the entire previous night trying to compose a letter to me. There are different versions: some are pages and pages of ramblings and others are a sentence long. Nothing seems to come out right. Finally he comes up with something that he is satisfied with. It’s not perfect, but he doesn’t want to babble. It says:

  I know you were hurt and have every reason to be angry, but just know that there hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought about you and Ty. Maybe that’s my punishment, knowing you are doing well and knowing I had nothing to do with it. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, for having done so great despite people breaking their promises to you.

  It was good to see you, even if it was only for a moment. I am glad I got at least that. I’ve missed you, Papa Bear.

  He thinks it says everything he wanted to say. He thinks it says everything he can’t. He thinks it sounds like a love letter. He thinks he wrote too much. He thinks he didn’t write enough. He thinks it sounds stupid. He thinks it will never get read.

  He thinks it sounds like a good-bye.

  He’s taking Ty home. Part of him wanted to leave a lot earlier so he could go upstairs and force me to talk to him. He doesn’t, scared of what I would say, scared of what he would say. He tells himself that he would not do that, not in front of Ty. So he waits, leaving late enough that it will give him time to drop Ty off and get to the airport. He watches Ty run up the stairs, and he lifts up my windshield wiper, putting the letter on my car. He pauses for a moment, willing me to fling open the door and run down the stairs and jump into his arms saying, “Please, Otter, please don’t leave me again. Please stay with me and promise to stay forever.” He shakes his head and gets back into the car and drives away. It’s raining. He turns in the car to the rental desk. He gets on a plane. The plane takes off. The plane lands. He gets off the plane. It’s sunny outside.

  Eight days later, he and Jonah have their first fight. They’ve had a couple of petty squabbles in the past few months, but it’s always been resolved quickly. Otter’s in his bedroom, staring down at my picture, cursing himself for being so weak. Since he has come back from Oregon, that old familiar sadness has become ever more prevalent. He’s spent the last week alternating between hot and cold. He sighs again and doesn’t hear the front door open. He doesn’t hear Jonah until Jonah is in his room. He’s startled when Jonah says his name and feels his face redden as he hastily shoves the picture into his closet.

  “What are you doing?” Jonah asks him. “Why are you sitting on the floor?”

  Otter stands up and tries to smile, but it feels fake. “Nothing. I was just looking at… some stuff. What are you doing here?”

  Jonah shrugs. “I got off early and wanted to see if you were hungry. I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up. The door was open when I got here. What picture was that?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Are you sure?” Jonah asks, sounding concerned. “You look upset.”

  “Let’s go eat,” Otter says, avoiding Jonah’s gaze. He shuts his closet door to Jonah and gives him a quick peck on the lips. “Give me a moment to wash up.” He walks past him and goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. He looks at himself in the mirror. His face is pale and his eyes are bloodshot. He tells himself he’s got to get it together. He tells himself to grow up. He washes his face. He brushes his teeth. He fixes his hair. When he’s done, he looks better, but he doesn’t feel better.

  He walks out of the bathroom and freezes when he sees Jonah standing in front of his closet. The door is open, and my picture is in his hands. A dark feeling rises up through Otter then, at the sight of the picture in someone else’s hands. It’s a feeling of jealousy, of possessiveness. He almost runs to Jonah and snatches the picture out of his surprised hands. Jonah recoils when he sees the look on Otter’s face.

  “Don’t touch this,” Otter snarls at him
.

  “Who is it?” Jonah demands. “Why did you act so guilty when I walked in?”

  “It’s none of your business who this is!” Otter shoots back. “And I wasn’t acting guilty!”

  Jonah crosses his arms and stands defiantly in front of Otter. “You acted like I was your mom who’d just caught you jerking off!” he says angrily. “I come in and find my boyfriend staring at a picture of another guy and then trying to hide it!”

  Otter is seething. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything!”

  Jonah shakes his head. “Ever since you came back from Oregon, you’ve been acting like someone died. What the hell happened to you up there? Does it have to do with him?” he asks, grabbing the picture from Otter’s hands.

  Jonah never knows how close he comes to being laid out. Otter’s first instinct is to punch Jonah in the face, and he raises his arm up halfway and is about to cock it back when he stops. I can’t do this he thinks, horrified at his upraised arm. I’m not that kind of person. What the fuck am I doing? He drops his arm back down to his side. He’s still angry, but the fight is falling out of him. He feels a familiar wave of despair start to wash over him, and he wants Jonah to leave so he can go to sleep. He’s tired and hurting and not in the mood to deal with anyone.

  But Jonah’s not done. “Is this that kid?” he asks, and Otter winces. “It is, isn’t it? It’s that kid from your hometown!”

  “So what if it is?” Otter says warily.

  “Did you sleep with him when you went back?” Jonah asks, his voice hard.

  “No,” Otter says, wishing Jonah would leave. “I told you, he’s straight.”

  Jonah drops the picture on the bed and starts pacing in front of it. “I’ve heard that before,” Jonah says bitterly. “Fucking straight guys who want nothing to do with you after you suck them off. Is that what this asshole did to you?”

  Otter’s moving before he realizes it. He’s standing in front of Jonah. His teeth are grit together, and it’s all he can do to keep from ripping his fucking head off. “He’s not like that,” Otter hisses. “Don’t you ever speak badly about him again.”

  “Or what?” Jonah shouts at him. “Are you going to kick my ass? What the hell did you do?”

  “Nothing! We never did anything!” Otter bellows, his voice breaking. “We never did anything.”

  Jonah’s face softens considerably. “And that was the problem, wasn’t it?” he says slowly.

  The dam breaks then, and Otter spills forth. He tells Jonah about the first time he knew he had felt something toward me and how wrong it had made him feel. I was sixteen, and he was twenty-four, and I had stayed over with Creed one night when their parents were out of town. Creed got stupid drunk and passed out early on the couch in the living room. Otter and I stayed up the entire night, talking about anything and everything. He says there was a moment when I was trying to think of an answer to a question he no longer remembers. I had leaned forward and put my face on my hands and scrunched up my eyebrows in concentration. Otter says it wasn’t until he was in bed later replaying the conversation in his head that it had hit him. No longer was I like a little brother in his eyes.

  He tells Jonah of this and more. But he does not tell Jonah about the kiss, for it is still his and mine and no one else’s. He thinks it will stay that way for as long as he lives. He knows that I will never be his, and he knows he may never even see me again, but at least he has this memory.

  Jonah is silent for a long time after he finishes speaking. His face is a mask. Finally he asks if they should break up. Otter knows they should, because he can’t promise anything to Jonah. But he allows himself to be selfish. He hugs Jonah violently and begs him not to leave. Jonah shudders against him and says he will stay, even though he knows it’s against his better judgment. Otter does not release him for a long time.

  The next week, he puts the picture in a storage unit he had rented out when he first arrived. He kisses it once before he leaves.

  Six months later, he moves in with Jonah.

  He’s happy. Work is good. Jonah is great. Life is good. He has a great tan. He has good friends. He has great sex. He makes good money. He has a great boyfriend. His life is very full. He could not ask for anything more. He talks to Anna and Creed every now and then, and he doesn’t ask about me and no one says anything to him. But that’s okay. He is not thinking about me that much anymore. I’m still in his thoughts, but it’s white noise in the back of his head. He’s okay with this. The equilibrium works. He tells himself he’s making it work. He tells himself it has to work.

  Everything is good and great for a while. And then it stops.

  He finds himself dissatisfied with work. He’s always considered himself an artist. He knows he does great work, as he’s been told this by many people. He’s very humble with his talent, but he knows he has the potential to become even better. He also knows that sometimes artists don’t achieve the end goal that they set for themselves. Sometimes it’s too high, sometimes it’s just not possible. He begins to see this as he looks over projects he has going on in various stages of development. They’re all shit. They’ll all have to be scrapped. He has to start everything all over again. When he tries this, he finds he doesn’t have any ideas. He has no inspiration. Everything he touches is insipid, it’s mundane, it’s boring.

  Jonah begins talking of rings and commitments and forevers. There are whispers that California will soon legalize gay marriage. Jonah never fully proposes, but the intent is there, and Otter finds himself crazily hoping that gay marriage will be banned. He wants to find whatever ballot it’s on and vote against it. He wants to find whatever judge is considering it and protest outside their office. He wants to rally all the conservatives to make sure that gays will never be able to get married. He considers joining the Tea Party. He concocts evil plots in his head. He begins to lose his interest in sex, but that’s okay because Jonah is working a lot lately, and he doesn’t seem to be that interested anyway.

  This goes on for months. Otter thinks he’s going insane.

  That’s when the real crazy stuff starts to happen

  He’s at work, poring over prints for a promotion he’s helping to run through Jonah’s firm. Nothing turned out like he wanted it to. He curses softly and rubs his eyes. He can feel a headache coming on. He’s about to pick up the phone and call Jonah when someone walks by the studio storefront. People travel on this sidewalk all day, so he’s unsure why this person catches his eye. Unsure, that is, until he sees him full-on. One minute he’s dialing the phone and the next he’s dropped it onto the floor, where it breaks. He bolts for the front door, his heart pounding, his mind racing. He’s just seen me, you see, just seen me walk pass the door. It’s not a coincidence, and he knows it. If I’m there, in San Diego, walking past this particular place, then I’m there for him. He shoves open the door and looks wildly around. He sees me further down the road walking away. He shouts, “Bear! Bear!” as he runs. People stare at him as he shoves past. He doesn’t care. I’m here, and everything is going to be okay.

  This all ends when he catches up with the person. It’s not me. It doesn’t even look like me.

  Three weeks later, the same thing happens again.

  And again and again and again.

  Otter thinks he’s sick. He goes to the doctor. They do many tests. He’s poked and prodded and X-rayed and CAT-scanned and MRI’d and gives blood and urine. Two weeks later he’s told he’s perfectly healthy, at least in body. He tries to believe this, but I am one of the paramedics who rushed past him on his way up to meet with the doctor.

  He thinks that maybe this is just an unhealthy obsession. He goes to a therapist. The therapist pokes and prods and asks if he’s ever considered yoga. Or meditation. Or Xanax. Otter is told he needs to relax. He’s told that he’s projecting. He’s told he needs to cut back on the stresses in his life. He’s told to take a long vacation.

  He and Jonah go to Florida for a week. I’m checking them into the ho
tel. I’m the bellboy. I’m the cab driver, the bartender, the waiter, the person on the street who passes by. By the end of the week, it’s the beginning of March, and Otter starts to think about going home.

  Two weeks later, Otter finds himself at the self-storage unit. He hasn’t been here in over a year. He opens the door, and the picture is where he’s left it. He picks it up and takes it home. He hides it in a box in the closet. He takes it out whenever he’s feeling sad. He takes it out whenever he’s feeling happy. He wonders if the guilt of the past three years is finally catching up with him. He thinks it’s guilt making him see me everywhere. He can’t possibly still have those strong feelings for me like he did. He thinks he just needs to make sure I’m okay. He thinks he should go home for a few weeks, just to make amends. He talks to Creed and Anna more frequently now, and they tell him I’m fine every time he asks, but he needs to see this for himself.

  It’s the middle of May now, and he comes home one day and finds Jonah sitting at the kitchen table, Moxie at his feet. My picture sits on the table. Otter freezes for a moment before continuing into the kitchen. He’s just told the studio that he needs to take some time off. They’re calling it a leave of absence. He’s calling it a vacation from reality. He hasn’t yet told Jonah of his plans, but he was sure he could think of something. Now, it would seem, he won’t have to.

  There is a fight and it is epic. There’s screaming and crying and accusations and kissing and making up and pleading and tears and anger and bitterness: a full gamut of emotion. Jonah tells Otter that he slept with someone from his office three months ago, and he’s been trying to figure out how to tell him. He says it didn’t mean anything. He says that he doesn’t feel as bad now, knowing Otter is cheating as well. It might be with a picture or a memory or a feeling, but it’s still cheating. Otter tells him to go to hell. Jonah says he’s sorry and he loves him. Otter believes him. Otter even loves Jonah in his own way. He thinks Jonah is a good man and that it’s not Jonah’s fault he got wrapped up in this. He tells Jonah all of this, and Jonah seems to calm until Otter pulls out his suitcases and starts packing. He starts begging then, but Otter’s course has already been set. Jonah asks him where he’s going. Otter tells him the truth. Jonah asks him if he is coming back. Otter says he doesn’t know. Otter tells him he’s not coming here to try and be with me, but to make amends for the shit storm he’s caused. He kisses a crying Jonah lightly before getting into the Jeep and driving away. Before he goes, he makes sure the picture is tucked safely in his bags.