Bear, Otter, & the Kid 02 - Who We Are (MM)

by T. J. Klune

  bear i’ve been thinking

  —and my eyes start to burn. Oh my God.

  But don’t I just run? Don’t I just fly over the hill?

  And stutter to a stop.

  The beach. The beach is empty. The tide is out and the beach is empty, and all I can hear is the subtle crash of waves, the cacophony of birds above me. Sirens, in the distance.

  I’m confused. Maybe I got the time wrong. Maybe he’s running late. Maybe I’m in the wrong place. Maybe—

  he up and left and i’ll be alone forever

  —I hadn’t understood what was happening. Maybe he didn’t want to ask me a question at all, that question I can’t stop thinking about now that I’ve thought it, that question I’ve thought about unintentionally for months now, and even though it’s too soon, even though it can’t be real, I’ll say yes, I’ll scream yes. I’ll beg and plead and do anything just so he asks the question so I can say yes.

  I walk down the hill to the beach. It’s starting to get colder, and I can feel the sea air start to seep in through the suit jacket, and it bites at my skin, nips my ears. I pull my phone out of my pocket and flip it open. No missed calls. No voice mail. No text messages. I tell myself to stop being stupid. That if something was going to happen, if there was something wrong, I’d know.

  Then it hits me and I almost grin. Maybe they wanted to get me out of the house, make me come someplace so they could set something up at home. Maybe that was the surprise. Maybe Anna and Creed and Mrs. Paquinn and the Kid and Otter are all rushing to do something at the house right now. Maybe their parents are there. Maybe Isaiah, though I doubt it. What could it be? If that’s the case, I’m going to kill them all for making me come out to the beach when it’s cold. Barefoot, no less.

  Should I call him? No. I’ll wait another minute or two. I can imagine the conversation already, though. He’ll say hello, and I’ll demand to know where he is. He’ll laugh, a low chuckle in my ear that’ll send shivers down my spine that having nothing to do with the sea breeze. He’ll tell me that I have to come home because he has something to show me. I’ll scowl at him through the phone and tell him I don’t like being tricked, but he’ll see right through me and will tell me he loves me, and that he’ll see me soon and that everything will be okay, everything will be fine and it will. It will. It will.

  I can’t wait anymore. I call him. It goes straight to voice mail. “Hey, it’s me. I’m at the beach, like your note said. You on your way?”

  Five minutes later: “Me again. I’m cold, you jerk. Where the hell are you? If this is your idea of a joke, I’m not laughing.”

  Ten minutes later: “Otter, I’m going to leave if you don’t call me back. And when I find you, I’m probably going to yell at you and make you sleep on the couch. Love you.”

  Twenty minutes later: “I’m cold, I have sand on my legs, and I’m pretty sure there is a homeless guy standing by my car. Your excuse had better be good because I’m going to kick you in the nuts. Otter… you’re freaking me out here. Call me back. Bye.”

  Then my phone rings. It startles me, and I almost drop it to the ground. I answer it without even looking at the display. I know who it is.

  “You asshole,” I say, grinning into the phone. “Where the hell are you? You think it’s funny—”

  “Bear?” a little voice says, cracking.

  “Kid?” I say, surprised. I look down at the display. A number I don’t recognize. I hear background noise that sounds like it’s coming over a speaker. Someone coughs.

  “Bear,” he says again, and he sounds desperate.

  No, I think. No. No. No.

  “Kid, where are you?”

  “The hospital.”

  “Why?” I croak.

  “It’s… oh, Bear. Oh. Oh.”

  Otter.

  “Tell me, Tyson. Tell me. Please, oh God, tell me. Please. Please.”

  He starts to cry. “It’s… Mrs. Paquinn. We were talking, and then she said her face felt funny and then her eye started to droop.” A great, gasping sob. “She started talking like she was drunk, and then she fell down! She fell down, and her head hit the carpet, and it made a weird noise. I called 911, and the ambulance came, but she wouldn’t wake up! I yelled at her and I screamed at her, but she wouldn’t get up!”

  “How did you get to the hospital?” Please say Otter. Please say Otter.

  “I rode in the ambulance with them. Bear, they… they stuck needles in her and said that it looked like she’d had a stroke, and I couldn’t look away because she’s not dead! She’s not dead!”

  A soothing voice murmured in the background, but Tyson was already on his way to being beyond consolation. I could hear the hysteria in his voice, the panic that was sharp and biting. “Mercy Hospital?” I say roughly.

  “Yeah. Oh, Bear. She can’t leave me. She just can’t. Please come help me. I need you. I’m just a little guy, and I can’t do this by myself. I need you to help me.”

  “I’m on my way, honey.” Otter. “I’m on my way and you just hold on. You close your eyes and don’t open them until I get there, you hear me? You don’t open your eyes until you know I’m there, until I’ve got you. I’m coming for you.”

  “Okay. Hurry.” And then he’s gone.

  I only make it four running steps before my phone rings again. I almost ignore it, but it has the same prefix as the hospital, and I know I’m the emergency contact for Mrs. Paquinn. “Hello?” I snap into the phone as I stop. I’m dizzy and I don’t think I can run and talk at the same time.

  “I need to speak to Derrick McKenna, please,” a female voice says.

  “Speaking. Who’s this?”

  “Mr. McKenna, my name is Dr. Elizabeth Moore. I’m an emergency room physician over at Mercy Hospital.”

  “I’m already on my way. My little brother just called and told me.”

  “Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know anyone had been notified already.”

  “My little brother was with her when it happened. He rode in with her in the ambulance.”

  “I’m sorry… I think I may have made a mistake. This is Derrick McKenna, correct?” She recites my number back to me.

  “Yeah,” I growl impatiently. “You have a Theresa Paquinn there, just brought in with a nine-year-old named Tyson. He’s the one that called me. She apparently had a stroke or something?” Oh, God.

  I hear Dr. Moore flip through some papers, and then she sighs. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about a Theresa Paquinn. Derrick, that’s not why I called.”

  Confusion. “Then what are you calling about?”

  “Oliver Thompson.”

  No. No. No.

  “What about him?” I hear myself ask.

  “Mr. McKenna, there’s been… there’s been an accident.”

  “Otter,” I mutter. “Otter. Otter.”

  Don’t lead cows to slaughter! I love you and I know. I know. I know. I should have. Told you. Every day I should have told you.

  “Mr. McKenna? You’re listed in our system as his emergency contact. Do you know him?”

  “Is he alive?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper.

  “Yes,” she says carefully. “For now. I’m not going to lie to you, Mr. McKenna. It’s… serious. According to the EMTs, he was T-boned on the driver’s side of his vehicle by a van that ran a stop sign. Mr. Thompson’s vehicle was pushed into a tree.”

  “He’s my….” Love. Life. Heart. Everything. “Partner.”

  “Oh. Oh. Mr. McKenna, I am so sorry to have to tell you like this. Will you be on your way?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just ask for me when you get here, and I’ll come out when I can. I need to get back to check on your… partner. He’s in good hands, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to bring him back to you.”

  Back from where? “Okay,” I say, my voice breaking.

  “Do you have someone that can drive you? It’s probably not a good idea for you to be operating a vehicl
e.”

  Like hell. Like fucking hell I am going to wait here for someone to come get me. “I’ll be fine,” I say, trying to make myself sound stronger, like I’m in control.

  “If you’re sure,” she says, sounding distracted. “Remember: Dr. Moore.”

  “Okay.”

  Then she’s gone, and my phone slips from my hands.

  And I can’t support my weight anymore. I fall to my knees, and as the night darkens around me, as the waves crash on the earth and the stars come out in the sky, I tell God what he has to do. What he needs to do. What he’d better do.

  You give them back. You give them back to me because we’re not finished. I’m not done with them. They’re not yours! They’re mine!

  And then I’m on my feet, racing for the car, ignoring my heart left back on the sand.

  9.

  Where Bear Receives

  a Poem

  HAVE I ever told you how I feel about hospitals? No?

  I hate them.

  From the antiseptic smell, to the sterile white walls, to the way that everyone smiles at you, like they know what you’re going through, like they know exactly what you’re thinking. They don’t. They can’t know. They’ve been here too long, seen too much death and horror. They’re desensitized. They’re muffled. But still they smile and nod. A comforting hand dropped on a shoulder. A quiet voice while you sob. They know, they say. They know it can be hard to hear.

  They don’t know. They have no idea.

  The doors whoosh open, and I walk into the fluorescent white, and it’s blinding, and I wonder if this is what people mean when they say they saw a light when they die, this flash that overwhelms the senses all at once. Is that what it feels like after you die? I don’t want it. I don’t want it to happen. Fuck the light.

  I scan the room, suddenly at a loss as to where I need to go. I don’t know who I need to talk too. I can’t remember the doctor’s name, because all I can think is Otter, all I can think is Mrs. Paquinn, all I can think is the Kid. They’ve taken everything else from me, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.

  “Help,” I croak out. “Someone. Help me.”

  But there’s no one. No one looks at me. No one even notices me. Can’t they see I’m breaking? Can’t they see that everything I love is in this place and if only I could just find them? And then. Then, then, then.

  I see her. I know her. She’s walking toward me, her head down. I know her. I love her. I’d even loved her once. Her name. Her name.

  “Anna?” I call out, my voice high and strained.

  She looks up and no. No, please. Oh, please, no. Her face is streaked with tears, and she sees me, and suddenly it’s like she crumples, and she wraps her arms around herself, and I bend over and gag, and all I can think is which one? Which one is it? I ignore that little voice in me that screams the name of the one I hope it isn’t, because that is a dark voice, a selfish voice. A voice that sounds exactly like my own.

  “Anna! Which one is it!” I cry out, unable to stand up straight.

  She doesn’t seem to hear me as she stumbles toward me, and then her arms are around me, and she cries into me. “How did you know?” she asks. “How did you know to come here?”

  What does that matter? It doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. Give me a fucking name! “Tyson called,” I manage to say.

  She pulls back and looks confused through her tears. “Tyson? How would he know? I didn’t tell anyone I was here!”

  I don’t understand. “Otter?” I say meekly. “Mrs. Paquinn?”

  She doesn’t get it. “I didn’t tell them, either! I just started feeling sick a couple of days ago, and it didn’t go away, so I came in to get checked out and… and… oh, Bear. Oh, I don’t know how or why or what now!” She starts crying again into my neck, and I want her to stop. I’ve got to find him. I’ve got to find my family. She’s part of it, but I need to find the rest. I want to tell her that she can go with me, that we can look for them together, but I don’t know how to say it.

  “Creed’s going to kill me,” she sobs.

  Creed? Creed?

  Then she says, “Oh, Christ. I can’t be a mother! I can’t do that! How could we have been so stupid?”

  Mother? I hate my mother. She left, and the Kid and I were alone, although not really. We had others. We had people. We had family. They weren’t blood, but blood doesn’t matter. They were ours and we were theirs. I need. I need them now.

  “Bear,” she cries. “I can’t be pregnant! I just can’t be!”

  Oh. Oh. That. She’s pregnant. Creed.

  “How far?” someone asks, and I realize it’s me.

  “Six weeks,” she sniffs. “Creed’s Christmas break. The condom must have broken.”

  And suddenly I can speak. “Anna. I love you. I love you. We’ll fix this, somehow. But if you don’t let me go right now and let me find them, I’m going to shove you, and I know you’re having a baby and that’s bad, but I’ve got to find them. They’re here and I don’t know where, but I have to find them.”

  She looks scared. “Who’s here, Bear? How’d you know to come here?”

  I don’t want to say it out loud, because if I do it’ll make it true. But I have no choice because I’m not in my right mind. I’m on the edge of everything, and I am about to float away without my tether. But somehow, I do it anyways. Ah God, it hurts. It hurts so much. “Mrs. Paquinn had a stroke, I think. The Kid is here with her.”

  The tears spill over her eyes again, and she moans. “Otter?” she asks. “Where is he? Tonight was supposed to be… tonight was….” She looks down at my left hand for some reason.

  “Accident,” I say. “The hospital called and said there’s been an accident.”

  She’s horrified, but then something happens to her. Something happens to Anna. The tears don’t exactly dry up, and she’s still hiccupping, but her face hardens and her eyes flash, and it’s like she’s alive, it’s like she knows. She pulls me into her arms, and her lips are near my ear and—

  you’ve broken my heart

  —I want to collapse against her, to let her carry the weight because I can’t. I can’t—

  but it was mine to give

  —take it anymore. I can’t take gifts only to have them taken away from me. I can’t have something to call my own because it will always be taken back. I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this woman holding me as she gathers her strength, as she gathers her courage to be the strong one, to be the one I can’t be right now. Everyone always leaves.

  “We’ll find them,” she says harshly, in control. “We’ll find them all.”

  THE Kid is first, as he rightly should be. I try not to think about the fact that he’s the only one out of the three that can probably hear me, that can actually know I’m there. Anna asked someone something, and we were led down a long hallway, the lights overhead buzzing. One of them flickered. I wanted to ask if they had someone to change that, but didn’t know why I should care.

  And then I see the Kid, sitting in a plastic chair, a nurse bent down in front of him, talking to him quietly. His eyes are closed and his face scrunched up, and I know he’s been that way since I told him to do it. Anna lets me go, and I move quickly. The nurse sees me coming and takes a step back, looking like she’s about to say something, but I don’t listen. I don’t know who she is. The Kid is all I see. He gasps out and starts to shudder when he feels my arms go under his, and I pull him up, up, up, and he wraps himself around my neck and shakes and cries out. I try to tell him it will be okay. I try to tell him that everything will be all right, but I can’t seem to find the words. And it’s because I don’t know if things will be okay. I’m supposed to be the adult here, and I can’t even tell my nine-year-old brother that things will be fine because I don’t know if they will be. I’m ashamed, but it doesn’t free the words from my mouth.

  “What happened?” I ask him finally.

  “She just fell,” he says as he trembles. “She said so
mething was wrong, and her face was wrong, and she fell.” This starts him off again, and I am finally able to whisper nothings to him, telling him I’ve got him, can’t he feel that? I look over at Anna and see she’s on the phone, and tears are on her face, and she says, “Otter,” and “Mr. Thompson,” so she must be on the phone with his parents, letting them know what little she does.

  And that almost knocks me flat. I have Tyson and he’s safe, but I have a choice. I can find Otter. Or I can find Mrs. Paquinn. I can’t do both right now. It has to be one or the other, and my heart cracks a little as there really is no question.

  “Where’s Otter?” the Kid says miserably. “Did he come with you?”

  “Oh,” is all I’m able to get out. Where is Otter?

  But I’m saved again by my pregnant ex-girlfriend. She hangs up the phone and wipes her face as she walks toward us. “I’ve called the Thompsons,” she says quietly as she touches the Kid’s face. “They’re on their way. They’re going to call ahead to make sure you don’t have any… issues trying to get in.” I know she’s being vague on purpose, and I’m almost stunned when I realize what she means. I never thought that the hospital might not let me in to see him, to get information. It didn’t seem to be an issue when the doctor called me, so I didn’t stop to think it might be one when I got here. Anger starts to fill in that pit in my stomach, and it’s unwarranted (at least so far), but I already know that if anyone tries to stop me from getting to my man, it’s going to be the last thing they ever do. Nothing is going to stop me from getting to him.

  I nod. “Kid? I need you to listen to me for a moment, okay? I have to go check on something, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Anna’s going to be here with you, and she’s going to talk to the doctor for me to find out what is going on with Mrs. Paquinn.”

  I turn to look at the nurse who is hovering nearby. “My name is Derrick McKenna. Theresa Paquinn is a member of my family, and I think I have permission to hear from her doctor about her condition. Is that correct?”

  The nurse nods. “She filed a power of attorney with her health insurance a couple of years ago, and we already had it in her file. I just need to see a driver’s license.”