by T. J. Klune
But still. “It’s, uh. Invasive? I mean, I knew it would be, but still. Invasive is a good word.”
Otter picked up the thread for me. “Very, very detailed background checks. And into everything. We’ve got nothing to worry about, but it’s still disconcerting.”
“It’s like you’re being judged,” I said, wiping sauce from my face. “At everything you do.”
“We are being judged,” Otter said. “Income, home life, extended family. Speaking of which, you’re going to get a phone call soon. The both of you.”
“And you better say nice things,” I warned Creed. “I’m serious. If you tell them anything about the things we used to do—”
“Like the time you and I got high in eighth grade while stuffing our faces with pizza rolls and woke up spooning each other wearing nothing but X-Men boxers?”
“Yes, Creed. Exactly like that.”
“Wow,” Anna said. “Looks like someone already beat me to getting the complete set.”
“I did not have sex with Bear,” Creed said. “I would have remembered that. Because I would have been an amazing lover.”
“You stay away from him,” Otter said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling my chair over until I was pressed up against him. “You can’t get high and spoon with Bear ever again.”
“It was one time—” I tried.
“Actually, it was four times,” Creed said, waggling his eyebrows at me. “And I think the last time, my nipples got hard.”
“Have some more garlic bread,” Anna said. “So you don’t talk any more.”
Creed nodded and looked exactly like JJ did when he shoved his face full of food.
“I’m not going to get high and spoon Creed,” I said, trying to shove Otter’s arm off me.
“See that you don’t,” he said, refusing to move. “I don’t want to have to rip his nipples off.”
“We’ll make sure we say nice things,” Anna reassured me. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“I know. It’s just… weird. I guess I wasn’t expecting it. That and how clinical it is.”
“Clinical?” Creed asked through a mouthful of bread, spraying crumbs on the table.
“There’s a database,” I said. “Of all the surrogates. There’s a photo and stats and family history. It’s almost like a dating site, except instead of swiping and going out to get laid, you’re deciding who you’re going to knock up. Without actually sexing them.”
“He said that to the specialist we’re working with,” Otter said. “She sprayed her tea all over her desk. Some got on my hand. It was an odd day.”
“Oh, Bear,” Anna sighed. “That’s…. I don’t know what that is.”
Creed high-fived me. “My man. You speak the truth.”
“How long does it take to pick someone?” Anna asked. “Have you seen anyone you’ve liked?”
“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “Nope. No. Of course not. No. Haven’t even thought about it.”
Both Creed and Anna froze.
“Good job,” Otter said, jostling me a little. “Really.”
“I tried,” I said. “You know I did.”
“That’s the sad part.”
“You did?” Creed asked, sounding thunderstruck. “You found someone? I thought these things took time!”
“They do,” Otter said, frowning at me pointedly. “And we haven’t decided anything yet… but, yes. There might be someone we’re interested in.” He winced. “That sounded weird.”
“When did you start looking?” Anna demanded. “I thought you just went to the center for the first time a week ago!”
“Um, surprise?” I said. “We actually went up to Portland after Ty went to Tucson. And before we say anything more, you have to promise us this stays here. No mentioning this to anyone. As far as the rest of the nutjobs are concerned, we just started, okay? Especially Tyson. I don’t want anything distracting him right now. He’s got more important things to focus on.”
“Because that’s going to end well given our history,” Creed said.
“This isn’t like that,” I said. “This isn’t something bad. I just need him to do what he went back to New Hampshire to do.”
“And how’s that going for him?” Anna asked. “Because if I recall correctly, you weren’t a fan of the idea to begin with.”
She had a point. I hadn’t thought it was a good idea, even though I’d known for a while it could be a possibility. “It’s going okay,” I said begrudgingly. “I still think he should have taken some time off, but he’s not a little kid anymore. He makes his own choices, even if they’re terrible and I dislike them immensely.”
“He’ll be fine,” Anna said. “You know that.”
“Of course he will,” Otter said. “He’s got all of us.”
“And Dominic,” Creed said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And Dominic.”
“Who sexes him up.”
“Creed,” Anna growled.
“What? He does. I know none of us like thinking about it, but it happens. You know it does.”
“I hate you so much right now,” I muttered, trying to find something to throw at him. But Otter had taken away everything sharp within my reach without batting an eye.
“You should see some of the things I do to Bear,” Otter said mildly.
Creed gasped and started choking on garlic bread.
“I love you so much right now,” I said.
“It’s like nothing ever changes,” Anna sighed.
“Dude! Wrong! So wrong!”
“You brought this upon yourself,” Anna reminded her husband. He opened his mouth to retort, but Anna narrowed her eyes at him, and he subsided. She waited a beat to make sure he wasn’t going to speak before she turned back to us. “So, spill.”
“What?” I said distractedly, staring at Otter, thinking about some of those things he’d done to me.
Otter was smug, of course.
Anna snapped her fingers at me. “Bear. Close your mouth and wipe your chin so you can tell us about this poor woman you’ve decided to inflict our family upon.”
I blinked. “Oh. Um. Right. So, I have some questions.”
Otter looked less smug at that. “I’m sorry for what’s about to happen.”
Creed looked thrilled as I dug into my pocket, trying to find the flashcards I’d written my questions down on. I thought it was better to write them out so I didn’t forget anything.
“Her name is Megan,” Otter said, sounding resigned. “She’s twenty-six. She’s… funny and sarcastic. Very sweet. She’s a paralegal in Eugene. This would be her second pregnancy if we go through with it.”
“Second pregnancy and she’s only twenty-six?” Creed asked. “She have her own kid?”
Otter shook his head. “She carried for another couple two years ago.”
“Some women just like being pregnant,” Anna said, patting her husband’s hand. “And I can see why. Sometimes. All the other times, though, I want to have this demon child out of me and then have you castrated so we don’t have to worry about this happening ever again.”
“When’s your due date?” Otter asked.
She smiled thinly. “Not soon enough. Middle of December.”
“I told her to hold it in for an extra week or two so we could have the baby on Christmas and name it Jesus,” Creed said. “But then she reminded me I was terrible at ideas and we agreed the actual due date is just fine.”
“And do you know the sex yet?”
They shared a look that only couples that’d been together for a long time could pull off, speaking without exchanging a word. The Kid said Otter and I did the same thing, but I thought it was still weird to see.
Anna finally nodded after Creed did a complicated maneuver with his eyebrows. “It’s another boy,” he said quite proudly, as if the gender of his child had been decided by the sheer force of his will and sperm. Which, to be fair, was at least partially true.
“Yes,
” Anna said dryly. “How lucky are we. Because we already didn’t go through it with JJ, we get to try again.”
“Eh,” Creed said. “He was a practice kid. We learned from our mistakes, and we’ll do better the second time around. JJ was our starter kid. Creed Junior will be immaculate.”
Otter frowned. “Creed… Junior?”
“Yeah,” Anna said. “Isn’t it fun how he thinks that’s going to happen?”
“Babe,” Creed said. “We’ve talked about this. You know that I need someone to carry on my legacy.”
“And what exactly would that legacy be?”
“We also talked about that. I’m still working on what my legacy is going to be.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready to ask you a question now.”
They all stared at me.
I stared back.
Otter coughed.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Congrats on having another boy. I’m sure he will bring joy and enrichment to your lives. And yes, her name is Megan, and we’ve met her one time, and yes, I accidentally told her that she can’t have sex with her boyfriend if she gets pregnant with our kid, because I didn’t want her boyfriend’s sperm to mix with ours and make a weird hybrid baby that we’ll have to share with her family because that would just be stupid. And yes, Otter made that sound he makes when I say something I probably shouldn’t have, but Megan didn’t get it, asked the specialist if it were possible for her boyfriend’s sperm to mix with ours.”
“Megan’s a little… like Bear,” Otter said.
“Ohhh,” Anna said. “I get it now.”
I squinted at Otter. “What do you mean by that?”
“That she’s perfect,” Otter said, patting my hand.
“Smooth,” Creed muttered.
“Can I ask the questions now? Because I have at least two hundred of them, and I’m thinking it’s probably going to take a few hours.”
They stared some more.
I waited.
“I really am sorry about this,” Otter said. “You know how he gets.”
“We know,” Anna and Creed said, and I would have been offended, but I was focused on the note cards in my hands.
“Okay,” I said. “Question one. Is it true that you have to wear a diaper after you give birth because your downstairs is just not in the shape it’d been before you started?”
Creed choked on his garlic bread.
Otter put his face in his hands.
Anna grinned evilly. “Oh, do I have things to tell you.”
A COUPLE of hours later, I screamed a little when Creed’s hand dropped on my shoulder. I was attempting to do the dishes, but mostly just staring blankly out the window above the sink, trying to take in everything I’d learned at dinner. Mostly what it boiled down to was that giving birth was the most amazing and the most disgusting thing to ever happen anywhere, and that women who went through it were probably capable of pretty much anything.
That still didn’t mean that I wasn’t horrified by the explicit details that Anna had laid out before us.
And it probably hadn’t helped that we were eating Italian food with lots of sauce.
Like, there was sauce literally everywhere.
I hadn’t finished dinner.
In fact, Anna was the only one that did. I’d even given her the rest of mine.
It’d gotten to the point where I’d actually only ended up asking two or three questions before Anna had just run with it, going in directions that I’d never thought of in my worst nightmares. I didn’t know what afterbirth was before. I sure did now.
So yes, I was startled when Creed touched my shoulder, sure it was his wife coming back for more. Most likely, it would be recipes that included placenta that she’d printed off the internet that she wanted us to try.
Creed arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m telling everyone we know that you scream like a preteen goat.”
“That doesn’t even make any sense.”
“I did call your name. Like, one time.”
I rolled my shoulder, dislodging his hand. “Where’s Anna?”
“Why?”
“No reason. I just… don’t want to be surprised by her or placenta recipes.”
Creed gagged a little. “Disgusting, right? I can’t believe people actually do that.”
“You would totally do it.”
“Well yeah. Just once, though, so I can tell people and get them to give me the look you’re giving me right now. It’s hilarious. But Anna said no, because she never lets me do anything.”
“Except get her pregnant.”
He grinned at me. “Yeah, except for that. I’m pretty good at that. Need some help?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Not much left to do.”
“Maybe I just want to spend some time with my best bro.”
“Says the guy that’s about to be a father for the second time, yikes.”
“Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though. We don’t see each other as much as we used to.” He came up to stand next to me, taking a dish out of my hand and beginning to rub it dry with a hand towel I’d set on the counter. “You have sex with my brother, and then you move in with him. We get JJ, and then you move away for years. Then you move back, and I’ve knocked up my wife again, and you’re getting ready to knock up someone too, and I figure we could use some bro-time.”
“That’s… a rather condensed version of events.”
“Bro-time,” he insisted.
“Bro-time,” I agreed.
“We could get stoned if you want and spoon. We just can’t tell Anna. Or Otter.”
“I don’t have X-Men underwear anymore.”
“For shame, dude. You’ve changed. It’s like I don’t even know you.”
I laughed quietly before I sobered a little. Creed waited, because he knew I’d come out with it eventually. I didn’t know what it was about the Thompson brothers, but they knew how I ticked.
“I’m worried,” I said finally.
“About?”
“Things changing.”
He frowned. “How so?”
“I… you know. With a kid and everything. We had Tyson, and he’s only just gone out on his own. This is the first time it’s been just Otter and me, and we’re—”
“Are you guys doing okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. We’re fine. Great, even. But that’s what concerns me. Having a kid is going to mess with that, you know? We won’t…. You can’t ever undo that.”
“Well you could—”
“Creed.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He sighed. “Look, you want me to be honest about it?”
“Uh, I think so?”
“It’s terrifying.”
“Great. There’s the reassurance I was hoping for.”
He bumped his shoulder against mine, holding his hand out for another plate. “It is! Bear, it’s scary as fuck. It’s also stupid and aggravating and annoying. You don’t sleep, you eat like shit, you look like shit. You don’t have any money. You don’t have any time for yourself. You get poop in your hair and snot on your shoulder. Have a healthy sex life? Yeah, you can forget about that for pretty much ever. You worry all the fucking time about the dumbest things, like if your kid will have a lazy eye or if the guy that drives the ice cream truck around the neighborhood is as creepy as he seems and wears a necklace of finger bones under his shirt.”
“You are not making me feel any better—”
He ignored me. “You’ll get pissed off at everyone who gives your kid shit. You’ll see more bodily fluids than you ever thought possible. If teeth come in crooked, you wonder if it’s your fault. When they’re screaming in the grocery store because you wouldn’t pick the right goddamn apple, you’ll wonder if adoption is still a viable alternative. When they’re telling everyone on the plane that the booger they just ate was as big as their fingernail, you’ll daydream about going out for a pack of cigarettes and not coming back.”
“Wow, you would think, given the parental history some of us have�
�”
“And there will be times you want to throttle the hell out of them, and the only thing that actually stops you is that it’s technically illegal—”
“Oh my god.”
“But Bear, I promise you, the moment they look at you and smile and call you Daddy, it’s just… it’s everything.”
I exhaled sharply.
“Look,” Creed said, setting another plate in the drying rack. “It sucks. Being a parent sucks. You’re always being looked down upon for everything your kid does. You always think you’re doing it wrong to the point to where you wonder if you’re messing them up irreparably. And people, all those other people who don’t have kids, are fucking judging you when your kid is acting like a douchebag in public, like you’re such a shitty person that you can’t control your own child. Seriously, I never thought I’d hate childless couples who fucking snark and roll their eyes at us because I used to be them. Dude, they are such assholes. Like, I’m sorry my child is being loud while you’re trying to enjoy your hipster cup of coffee while doing your fucking Sudoku, you weird fuck, but my kid is just a kid. He doesn’t know that you’re a dick, which is why he’s asking you about your stupid fucking bowler hat that you got at a swap meet because you’re goddamn ridiculous.”
“Whoa,” I breathed. “You have so many feelings about hipsters.”
“They are the absolute worst,” Creed growled. “Fucking man buns and T-shirts from the eighties worn ironically with stupid fucking names like Xander or Josiah. You are not cool, and when you buy a repurposed log for six hundred dollars that’s supposed to be a chair, you are not allowed to pass judgment on my child.”
