The Long and Winding Road

by T. J. Klune

  “Bear?”

  I blinked. Otter was sitting in a chair at the table, close enough that our knees bumped underneath. He’d dished a plate for me, chunks of chicken resting on a bed of fettuccini Alfredo. He was holding the salad tongs and an empty bowl in his other hand, but his eyes were on me.

  “What?”

  “I asked if you were okay. You spaced out a little.”

  “Yeah,” I said, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Just… a little tired. Got lost, I think.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  No judgment. Just a question. He knew what Ty and I did, how we could drift a little in our heads. It’d gotten better over the years, but sometimes it happened without me realizing it.

  “Just… noodles, I guess.”

  “Noodles.” He set the salad bowl next to my plate.

  “When—after…. Damn, I don’t know why this is still so hard to talk about.”

  He didn’t speak. Just waited for me to find my words. I adored everything about him.

  I sighed. “Before I got my head out of my ass and did the right thing, we didn’t have much. We didn’t have anything. And your parents always offered, and Anna and Creed were there, but I didn’t always let myself have that, you know?” I shrugged awkwardly. “It was a… weird time. Noodles.”

  “I’m—”

  “Otter, I swear to god if you’re going to apologize, I’m dumping my plate in your lap.”

  He scowled at me. “I wasn’t going to apolo—”

  “You had that look on your face.”

  “What look?”

  “That one you get when you feel guilty about stuff that happened a long time ago that you had no control over. And now you’ve got the grumpy look on your face when you know I’m right but don’t want to admit it.”

  He ignored that and instead said, “Wine?” as he uncorked the bottle.

  “I’m onto you, Thompson. You’re up to something.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re projecting.”

  “Yeah, because that’s something I do—wait. Okay, it is, but I’m not right now! You seem to have forgotten that I know you better than anyone. You’re being shifty.”

  “You do know me better than anyone,” he agreed, pouring me a glass and setting it next to my plate. I wasn’t going to fall for it. He was trying to get me drunk to ask me for some kinky sex thing involving a traffic cone or to tell me he’d actually been working with the mob all these years and that we had to go into witness protection. It would actually explain quite a lot, and now he was giving me that look, that soft look he got sometimes with me, like he knew I was being ridiculous. I never thought I’d ever have anyone look at me that way, and even now, even after all this time, it still knocked me for a loop whenever it happened.

  “Sappy,” I muttered before I picked up the full wineglass and drank half of it in one go. I felt better after that.

  “Can’t I just do something nice for my husband?”

  “Keep talking. When it finally comes out and I tell you that I told you so, I am going to give you so much shit. But we can’t go into witness protection until the Kid graduates. I won’t uproot his life like that.”

  “Bear, I’m not in the mafia.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that!”

  He waited.

  “Okay, I was thinking that a little, but you’re acting strange, and now I’m getting nervous.” I took another drink of wine through a mouthful of chicken Alfredo.

  “You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”

  “Is it a kinky sex thing?” I blurted out. “If it’s a kinky sex thing involving a traffic cone, I don’t know if I can do that. I mean, do you know how much lube you’d have to use for that? And where the hell would we even get a traffic cone? It’s not like we can steal one from a construction site, because they’d all be dirty, and I won’t put dirty traffic cones up my ass, Otter, I really won’t. I don’t want to have to go to the emergency room to have to explain to a doctor why I need to have gravel extracted from my asshole. And if that happens, I am going to blame it all on you, because I won’t be taking the blame for it. I won’t. You will be there holding my hand while they take dirty asshole rocks out of me because you couldn’t take the time to order a goddamn traffic cone online, if that’s even possible. And you know I’m okay with trying new things, but I still get freaked out over that video we saw with the two guys on the seesaw that had those obscene dildos on either end and they kept seesawing them into each other’s asses, and why would anyone even think about doing that? Why would you take a piece of child’s playground equipment and make it sexual? I mean, yeah, there’s sex swings, and that’s fine, but a seesaw? A seesaw, Otter. With dildos on it. Who does that? What’s next? A slide made of anal beads? Hanging from the monkey bars by nipple clamps? And that’s another thing! How do I know what nipple clamps are? We’ve never used them. We’re so normal, we’re not even vanilla. We’re vanilla bean. That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re getting me drunk so you can tell me we need to have a kinkier sex life. Oh my god. I knew you were up to something. All I wanted to do was come home after dealing with little shits all day who apparently can’t survive an hour without checking their Myspace or sending their twatterings about how everything is hard because they’re fourteen years old and no one will ever understand them. I wanted to come home and just forget about that, but now I have Alfredo sauce on my face while you are talking about sticking a sounding rod in my dick and—how the fuck do I know what a sounding rod is?”

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  Otter said, “Wow. That went places I didn’t expect.”

  “You can’t stick anything in my dick! You look online for a traffic cone, but nothing goes in my dick, Otter.”

  “Myspace. Twattering. Jesus Christ. It’s like you’re twenty-eight and eighty all at the same time.”

  I glared at him over the top of the wineglass, which had gotten refilled at some point. He was so good to me. “I know things,” I said, licking my lips for any drops of wine that thought they could escape me.

  “Bear, when you got a smartphone for the first time, you thought an app store was a physical place you had to go to in order to download apps.”

  “The salesman didn’t have to be so rude about it. I mean, he acted like no one had ever thought the same thing before.”

  “I don’t know that anyone has. I don’t know that there’s anyone in this world that thinks like you.”

  “Ugh. You’re gushing again. Please stop. I know I’m great. You don’t need to keep reminding me. Stop filling my wineglass.”

  “I find it easier when you’re lubricated.”

  I gaped at him. “Did you—did you just make a pun?”

  “I’m not even embarrassed.”

  “You should be. My god, even I’m embarrassed for you.”

  “Really,” he said dryly. “You just talked about dildo seesaws while in the same breath telling me you wouldn’t mind me sticking a traffic cone up your ass. And I can’t even make a joke?”

  “A pun isn’t a joke. It’s offensive. I mean, you’re old, but you’re not that old. It’s such a dad thing to do.”

  He paled a little at that, hand tightening around his fork.

  And of course, I immediately felt bad. “No, no, no. You’re not old. I mean, you are older than me, but you’re not old. I heard that thirty-seven is the new something-something. And hey! When your birthday comes around again, thirty-eight will be the new… whatever the new thing is.”

  And even as I watched, I could see him steel himself. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He reached over and took my hand in his, gripping it tightly. “Okay,” he said. “So there is something.”

  “Ha,” I said weakly. “I knew it. You liar.”

  “Bear, I—Derrick, there’s—” He coughed and shook his head a little. “Okay. You know I love you, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Of course. I mean, I’ve known
that forever. Hell, if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that. I—you know I love you too?” My hand felt clammy, because for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the hell was happening right now, but it was serious.

  I hated it.

  His mouth twitched. “Yeah. I figured as much when you and the Kid wrote me a love poem with a subtle vegetarian message embedded into it.”

  “I bet that damn seagull’s long dead by now,” I said savagely. “And I’m happy about it. That motherfucker had it out for me. I hope it got eaten by a shark.”

  “I don’t think sharks eat seagulls.”

  “What? Of course they do. They’re right there on the water. How could they not? They’re floating appetizers.”

  “You know what? We’re going to look this up—goddammit. No, Bear. Stop it.”

  “Stop what? You started all of this by telling me you loved me!”

  He huffed out a breath and squeezed my hand. “And somehow we ended up on seagull appetizers.”

  “It didn’t even take that long,” I said with a frown. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried.”

  “I’m sure there’s medication for that, but that’s not the point.”

  “Oh good. I would be concerned if it was. And also slightly offended that you got me drunk to tell me I needed to be on medication.”

  “Seriously. You’re drunk already.”

  I grinned at him. “Eh. Buzzed. But it’ll be easier for you to have your way with me.”

  He sighed, but I saw the way his lips twitched, and I knew I was so getting laid later. It put me at ease, at least a little bit. “I’ll keep that in mind. Can I finish?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. It’s… just….”

  “Otter,” I said quietly. “You know you can tell me anything. We’re a team, okay? That’s what we do.”

  “I know,” he said, eyes darting away before coming back to me. “We’ve been through a lot.”

  “Yeah. But we’ve gotten this far.”

  He smiled at me, and I thought it was possible I’d do anything for this man. “Yeah. Yeah, we have. Which is why I think we’re ready.”

  “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but we kind of already did the whole marriage proposal thing, remember? It was really rather overly dramatic, what with you waking up in a hospital and everything like we’re in some kind of goddamn overwrought romance novel or something.”

  “I’m pretty much the bad boy to your plucky heroine.”

  “Ass,” I said, turning my hand over so I could hold his hand properly. “But I mean, if you want to ask me again, I’m okay with—”

  “I want to be a dad.”

  I did the absolute worst possible thing I could do then. I laughed. And the hurt look on his face tore me to shreds. “No,” I said quickly. “No, I’m not laughing at you. That was just… a knee-jerk reaction. It’s not—god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. Okay? You’re—”

  “I’m ready, Bear,” he said, interrupting me. “I know we’ve… danced around the topic, and I haven’t pushed. I knew you needed time with everything. I mean, with the Kid and Dom and that whole… thing. The move. Trying to protect him as best you could—it’s admirable. You’ve done well by him, Bear. Really good. Maybe better than anyone else could have done if they’d been in your same position.”

  “It wasn’t just me,” I said sharply. It annoyed the hell out of me when he downplayed his own contributions. “It was you too. You helped… us. Me. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t—okay. That’s fine. We’re a team. We have been for a long time now, and I think we’re ready. I’ve been… uh. I’ve been researching. Everything.” He stood up quickly, jarring the table a little as his chair scraped the floor. He let go of my hand. “Hold on, okay?”

  I could only nod as he backed out of the kitchen.

  I told myself to breathe.

  To really breathe.

  It was only a minute before he came back, but by then I’d already started to work myself up again, that little voice in my head laughing at me, telling me that it was a mistake, that I’d never be able to do this, because what could I possibly know about being a parent? You never had one, it whispered. You never had a father, and your mother hated you enough to leave you and the Kid behind to fend for yourselves after stealing almost everything you had. You scraped by, you crawled through the dirt, and sure, yeah, somehow you’re here now, in a nice house with a nice job and a nice man, but what exactly did you do to deserve this? And what could you possibly have to offer anyone else?

  I pushed it away, but it didn’t go far. It never did.

  He held a three-ring binder in his hands, and maybe it was just a coincidence, maybe he’d already had it somewhere in the boxes in his office upstairs, but it was blue, a pale blue like a spring sky.

  Or like a little boy, that color you used when you told the world, look, look, look, I’m having a kid, I’m having a baby boy, and this is how I show everyone. He’s blue, baby blue, and he’s mine, he’s ours, and look at it. Just look at it.

  His eyes were a little wide as he came back to the table, sitting back down beside me, jostling the wineglass as he set the binder down in front of him, hands resting on the top, his wedding ring flashing in the candlelight. He cleared his throat, fingers flexing just a little. “Okay, I know this is a lot. I know it is. But I just want you to listen. Just for a bit.”

  I nodded jerkily.

  His smile was a little brittle as he tapped the binder. “It’s in here. Just. Um. Some of the stuff I’ve looked into.” He opened the binder slowly, and I tried to ignore the way my heart jackrabbited in my chest at the fact that there were color-coded tabs along the edges. It was the stupidest thing to focus on, but I couldn’t look away. “We don’t have to make any decisions right away, and I know this might be a lot to just drop on you, but I thought maybe we could look through some of this together?”

  He was nervous, and I was sitting there, dinner forgotten, gaping at him like an idiot. “Some of this,” I managed to say.

  “Yeah. Yes. Some of this.” His fingers twitched again on the plastic cover, and I still couldn’t get over that it was divided into sections. “I mean, there are so many options that we have. Things aren’t like they were when we first got together. Things are better now for same-sex couples. We don’t even have to look outside the US. I mean, we can, and if that’s the direction you want to go, I’m totally on board with that, but… I just want to start. You know? Somewhere. A conversation. About adoption or surrogates and—okay. I know it’s a lot, and I can tell by the look on your face that—”

  “I don’t have a look on my face! And wow. I really didn’t mean to shout that. Holy shit.”

  He shook his head fondly. “It’s not—Bear. I want this, and I want you to want this too. I don’t want to force you. Or push it. But I’d like for us to talk about it, you know?”

  I could do this.

  I could do this.

  I probably couldn’t do this, but I sure as hell could wing it.

  “I—”

  The front door slammed open, causing both of us to jump. We laughed a little at ourselves, and Otter called out, “Ty?”

  There was no response.

  His brow furrowed a little bit, and all I could think was that if it wasn’t one thing, it was another, because somehow I knew something wasn’t right.

  There was a little choked gasp from out in the hallway, something I knew so well. It was the sound of my brother struggling to breathe, to force air into his lungs, even though his throat was closing up and the red claws of panic were tearing into his skin.

  I shoved myself away from the table, the wineglass tilting over, dark liquid soaking the tablecloth. I ignored it because it wasn’t important. Not now.

  I heard Otter jumping up behind me even as I ran from the kitchen.

  Tyson Thompson was slumped against the now-closed door, feet
sliding out from underneath him, skin pale, glazed eyes bulging even as he tried to pull the collar of his shirt away from his neck like it was choking him.

  I stumbled a little as I reached him, tripping over the damn rug in the hallway. I fell to my knees in front of him as he hit the floor. His skin was cold as I cupped his face, his fingers knocking against my hands as he tried to shove me away.

  “Kid? Tyson.”

  “I c-can’t b-breathe,” he panted out. “I c-c-can’t breathe, Bear, oh, Bear, I can’t b-b-breathe.”

  We’d been here before.

  More times than I could count.

  More times than someone like him ever deserved.

  Panic disorder was a bitch like that.

  It didn’t care if he was the smartest person in the world.

  It didn’t care that shit had been slung at him again and again and again.

  It didn’t care that I hated it more than anything else in the world.

  It just pulled him down, wrapping itself around him, smothering him. He felt cold, but he was slick with sweat, and I was frozen, like this was the first time all over again, like I was a lost teenager and he barely came up to my waist, and he was looking up at me, begging me without speaking to make it better, to make it go away.

  We’d been alone then.

  We weren’t now.

  Otter crouched next to us, pressing his forehead near the Kid’s ear, and he was whispering, his breath hot against my fingertips. He was saying I know you can hear me and You’re safe here, you’re home and you’re safe and Breathe with me, okay? You just need to breathe with me. Otter’s gaze darted quickly over to me, and I did the only thing I could. I followed along with him.

  “That’s it,” I said, voice hoarse. “That’s right. We’re here, okay? We’re here. And you’re gonna breathe with me, okay? That’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna breathe in. Hold it. And then you’re gonna breathe out. Hold again. And we’ll do it as long as you need to.”

  “I c-c-can’t.”