by TJ Klune
“Well, because!” he sputters. “She’s… mean and… I just don’t like her!”
“She’s mean to you? Do you need me to talk to her teacher?” I say, keeping a straight face.
The Kid pales. “No,” he says hastily. “I think I can handle it.”
“I bet you can.”
He glares up at me. “Are you making fun of me?”
I grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. Because I’ve had quite the day, and I don’t want to have to put up with your nagging.”
“My nagging?” I burst out laughing. Much to my relief, this cracks through him, and he starts laughing too. I reach over and ruffle his hair, and he complains good-naturedly but grabs onto my hand and pulls it into his lap. He plays with my fingers, humming quietly to himself. I wait.
“She eats meat,” he says finally.
“And that’s bad? I eat meat.”
“That’s okay, though. You’re my big brother. She’s just a dumb girl.”
“Those are always the best ones, huh?”
He eyes me with great consideration. “I don’t know, Bear. Are you and Anna okay?”
I grip the steering wheel tightly. “So, you heard that one too.”
He grimaces. “It was kind of hard not to, Papa Bear.”
“What did you hear?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
He shakes his head. “Just yelling. I’m sorry, Bear. I didn’t mean to hear it.”
I pat his hand. “It’s okay, Kid. I’m sorry too. It should have never gone down like that. I should have thought that through a little bit.”
“Otter took me to school today!” he says, excited. I grin sickly at the change in topic. “He’s never done that before. He took me to get donuts!”
“Good Ol’ Otter.”
“Yep, good Ol’ Otter. Hey, why are we going back to our house? Otter said we were going to his house tonight! He promised, Bear! He’s making lasagna!”
I roll my eyes. “Take a breath, Ty. I know he promised. We’re just stopping by the house real quick so you can change.”
“Can we stay the night too?”
Uh, what?
“Er… not tonight,” I stammer. “Maybe some other time.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said, that’s why.”
He crosses his arms and groans. “We never get to do anything fun.”
“Kid,” I say sternly. “There’s a lot going on that you just… just….” I try to finish, but he is making little begging noises and scrunching up his face, and I dare anyone to try and say no to that. My heart skips a little beat as I say, “Fine. But you owe me. Big-time.”
“You rock, Papa Bear.”
An hour later finds us back at Otter’s house. As soon as I’m in the driveway, Ty’s out the door and running inside. “I’ll be right in,” I call after him and turn off the car. I bump my hands lightly against the steering wheel and tap my leg nervously. Going inside now is going to be a big step, and I’m not sure what it means. Before I can stop myself, I’m dialing my phone, and it starts to ring. I want to hang up, but I can’t because I need to hear her voice. It has come over me suddenly, and I think there’s time to hang up before she answers. But still I wait, tapping my hand and bouncing my knee.
“Hey, Bear,” Anna says. She sounds tired.
“Hey, yourself,” I say back.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. What’s up with you?”
“You know. Why’d you call?”
I shrug and grit my teeth, stupidly realizing she can’t see me. “I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Does it have to be about anything?”
She sighs. “Bear, it’s always going to be about something.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say, fighting back tears. “We can just… can’t we just go back?”
She laughs, not unkindly. “I don’t think so, Bear. I can’t ever see how. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
“But we could. If we really wanted to. We could, I know we could, Anna.” I am fighting for this for reasons I don’t completely understand. I think part of me wants this to maintain some sense of normalcy. To maintain one of the few constants I’ve had in my life. It’s safe, it’s comfortable, and it’s the only place I’ve known.
“Bear,” she says, and I can hear how thick her voice gets. “Bear, who are you trying to convince?”
Both of us. “I don’t know,” I say instead.
“Bear, I am going to ask you to do me a favor, okay?” she says, weeping openly now. “I’m going to ask you for one thing. But you have to promise me this because it’s the only way we are going to make it. Understand? It’s the only way I’ll ever be able to stay in your life. Can you do this for me, Bear?”
“Yes. Anything, Anna. Anything for you.”
“Don’t ever call me like this again. Whenever we speak from here, it’s as friends. It can’t ever happen again. Okay?”
“Okay,” I sniff into the phone. “I do love you, though.”
“I know you do and I’m glad.” And I believe her.
“Anna?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you a question? Not about us?”
“Yes,” she says immediately.
“Did you… why did you call Otter last night?”
She takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “Did he come over?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. You needed a friend. I knew that he would understand what you’re going through. He told me….” And then she stops, as if catching herself.
“Told you what?” I ask, curious.
She curses softly. “He told me about what happened to him in San Diego. I called him, probably sounding hysterical. Once I was able to calm down enough, he told me the story.”
“He did?” I say, trying to keep the surprise out of my voice. And don’t I feel a pang of something else? Doesn’t it feel strangely like jealousy? But who in God’s name am I jealous of?
She hears it in my voice. “Don’t be like that, Bear,” she chides me.
I startle when there’s a tap-tap-tap at my window. I look up and see Otter staring curiously into the car. I realize that I have been out here for quite a while. Telling Anna to hold on for a minute, I roll down the window.
“Everything cool?” he asks calmly as he leans in. His finger drapes dangerously close to my arm.
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just on the phone. I’ll be right in.”
He gives me a knowing look and walks back inside.
“Sorry,” I say, putting the phone back on my ear.
“Was that Otter?” she asks, her voice betraying nothing.
I can’t lie to her now. “Yes. He’s making the Kid a tofu lasagna, and Ty would murder me if I hadn’t brought him.”
“That sounds less than appetizing.”
“You’re telling me. At least you don’t have to eat it.” And she laughs and something somewhere rights itself. Maybe not back into the position that it was in before, but close. So very close.
“So, you were saying?” I ask.
“What? Oh, right. Otter. Well, I don’t know how much more I should say. If you’re going to hear it, it should be from him. And don’t try to force it, either, Bear. I know you too well and that’s the only reason I say that. And just so you know, I didn’t really tell him what the fight was about.”
“I know.”
“After he got done telling me his reasons for coming back, I realized he could understand. More than most people could. And I knew that you needed someone to talk to. But I also know you probably didn’t say anything to him. That’s just what you do.”
“I kind of cried and fell asleep,” I admit.
She laughs but then sobers. “Don’t keep it inside forever, Bear. You’ll end up hating yourself if you do.”
“Thank you,” I say, wishing she was right next to me so she could see just how s
incere I am.
“You’re welcome. Tell Ty I love him for me. I’m going to let you go now, okay?” I know she means hang up the phone, but there is something more to those last words she speaks, and I can hear her waiting for me to answer. I rack my brain, wondering if there is anything left unsaid, anything that I think she should know. Nothing comes to mind, and it breaks my heart just a little bit more.
“Okay,” I say sadly.
“Good-bye, Bear.”
“Bye, Anna.”
Then she’s gone too.
I WALK into the house feeling heavy. Don’t get me wrong; I know I’ve done nothing but bring this on myself. Normally I’m not one to wallow in self-pity, but it’s something I haven’t been able to do for the last three years. It feels alien, foreign. Dark thoughts pitter-patter around my head, and I do little to push them away. Maybe I’m supposed to be like this. Maybe it’s what I deserve.
Blah, blah, blah.
Ty is sitting on the counter while Otter is telling him a story. The Kid doesn’t see me enter, but Otter does, and he glances at me quickly and winks. I smile vaguely and wait for him to finish.
“And so then,” Otter says, “that guy just came down and stands next to me in line at the bank. Now remember, I hadn’t been in California long at that point and didn’t know how people acted there. So, being the nice guy that I am, I say hi. But remember, I think he can’t hear me because he had headphones on and was rocking out to whatever he was listening to, right?”
“Right,” Ty says, rapt.
“So the line’s not moving, but I can feel the guy bopping his head behind me because he keeps getting closer and closer until he’s bumping into me. I try to ignore him, but he starts bumping into me harder and harder. So finally, I turn around to glare at him, and he stops rocking out and glares at me right back! And you know what I saw?”
“What!” Ty says excitedly.
“The headphones he was wearing,” Otter says, pausing dramatically, “weren’t attached to anything. No iPod, no Walkman, no nothing. He was just wearing the headphones! He notices me noticing this, and I try to keep a straight face, but he leans over to me and do you know what he said?”
Ty has his hands to his mouth, and I can hear him whisper, “What’d he say, Otter?”
Otter’s face suddenly morphs. He sticks his bottom jaw out and arches both eyebrows together and puffs out his cheeks. The change is startling, and I almost burst out laughing, ruining the story. Otter’s voice drops, and it comes out deep and gravely: “‘I don’t need no fancy music box, boy. I gots all the music I needs in my head. That’s where I got alllll the hits.’” I can’t keep it in anymore: my laughter brays out of me and echoes across the kitchen. Ty jerks and cranes his head and sees it’s me and rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to Otter. This cuts off my laughter immediately, as I’ve just been rebuked again by the Kid.
“People are weird in California, Otter,” he says seriously. “I’m glad you came back before you got weird too.”
Otter nods his head solemnly. “I’m glad too. Crazy Otters would never know how to make a vegetarian lasagna.” He ruffles the Kid’s hair, and Ty turns around to look at me.
“Otter said you were talking on the phone and that’s why you took forever.” Otter shrugs apologetically behind the Kid’s back. Ty stares at me quizzically. “Who were you talking to, Bear?”
I move toward the Kid and hoist myself up onto the countertop where he’s sitting. I put one arm around his shoulders and bring him into me, kissing the top of his head. “I was talking to Anna,” I say quietly.
He nods and looks at Otter. “Anna and Bear broke up again,” he says sadly. “It wasn’t like the other times, though. I think it was for real this time.”
Otter stands in front of the Kid and bends over, putting his hands on his knees. “No, I don’t think it was like the other times, either. But you know what Anna told me?” Ty looks up at him. “She told me that she loves you, and she isn’t going to go anywhere. Isn’t that right, Papa Bear?”
I glance at him gratefully before turning back to the Kid. “That’s right, Kid. Just because she and I aren’t dating anymore doesn’t mean you won’t see her again. She told me last night that she’s going to make sure she sees you as much as she can.”
“I’m not just sad about that,” the Kid says.
“Well, what else are you sad about?” Otter asks.
The Kid thinks for a moment, then says, “I’m sad for Bear. I don’t want him to be alone forever.” Once again, for what seems like the billionth time in the last few days, hot tears sting my eyes. Otter comes to my rescue.
“How can he be alone?” he exclaims. “He’s got you and me! I think that’s going to be just enough, don’t you?”
“I guess,” the Kid tells Otter. “But what happens when you go away again, Otter? Creed’s going back to school, and you’ll go back to California, and Anna… Anna will just be gone. Papa Bear will just have me, and I don’t know if I could do it on my own.”
I don’t respond, but this time on purpose. Yes, I’m choked up once again like a little fucking girl. I can’t honestly believe a person has as much liquid in their body as has forced its way out of me over the last two days. But the real reason I don’t say anything is because I, like the Kid, am waiting to hear what Otter is going to say. However selfish that is, I need to hear what he’s going to say.
Otter stands up straight, and I can feel him looking down at the two of us huddled in front of him, two lost children. I brace myself for whatever answer he’s going to give, hoping he’ll at least lie for Ty’s sake (and maybe for my own). He should never have this burden, but I’m tired of carrying it on my own.
“Ty,” Otter says finally, “I’m not going to go anywhere for a very long time. And if I do, well, then, maybe… maybe you and Bear can go with me.”
Ty launches himself off the counter, and Otter catches him deftly and pulls him up into his arms. I can see Ty whisper something in his ear, and Otter’s eyes go wide, and he glances down at me and then focuses back on the Kid. Ty punctuates his whispers with a poke in Otter’s chest and Otter nods. The Kid sits back in his arms and says, “You promise to do what I say? You have to promise.”
“I promise,” Otter says.
Ty stares at him until he is sure Otter is telling the truth, then wiggles out of his arms. “Bear, can I go watch Anderson Cooper now?” he says, pulling on my leg.
“Sure, Kid,” I tell him, my voice coming out perfectly natural. Coming out as if we’d all just been talking about the weather. Ty runs out of the living room, yelling at us to tell him when the food’s ready. Otter looks at me thoughtfully and goes to the fridge and pulls out a couple of beers, handing one to me. I crack it open and drain half of it in one swig. It burns down my throat and settles warmly into my stomach.
Otter looks like he’s about to say something, but thinks better of it and starts pulling out the ingredients to make Ty’s dinner. I watch him as he works for a few minutes, the silence noticeable but not uncomfortable. The sound of the TV enters into the kitchen, so I know that anything I say now will go unheard by the Kid in the living room. I jump down off the counter and play with the top of the beer bottle.
He wants us to go with him? I think. And do what? Goddammit, Otter, I told you to take things slow, for fuck’s sake! That’s not even going to be possible. How the hell could you even think of saying that without even mentioning it to me first! Not that you should have said anything at all….
“Bear, you’re thinking too much again,” Otter says, reading through a recipe in the open book in front of him. “I can feel it from here.” This startles me from my thoughts, and I open my mouth and start sputtering nonsense, and he looks at me and shakes his head, asking for me to get the noodles out of the pantry. I do, still bubbling nonsensicals that are supposed to be forming coherent denials, but I think all I’m doing is making a lot of noise with my mouth. I hand him the noodles, and the box is shaking
, and he wraps his hand around it and my hand. “Bear, stop it.”
I do.
He takes some more stuff from the fridge and starts setting it on the counter. I finish my liquid courage and grab another one over his shoulder. I know I shouldn’t be drinking, but I don’t give a shit.
“So how’s Anna?” Otter asks casually, and I spill a little beer on myself. He tosses me a rag, and I mop it up.
“She’s okay, I guess,” I mumble.
“That’s good. She sounded better when I got done talking to her last night.”
I nod. “She said you helped her a lot. She said you….” I hesitate but decide to go for broke. “She said you told her about why you came back here.”
He stiffens only for a second, but I still catch it. “Did she say anything about it to you?”
“No,” I say truthfully. “She said when you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”
“She’s a good kid,” he says. “I’m sorry you guys had a fight.”
I snort. “Oh come on, Otter. You don’t need to coddle me like that. It wasn’t just a fight, and you know it. We broke up; it’s done. And this time it’s for good.”
He laughs quietly. “You’re right, I should know better than that. I just… I don’t know. I hope you guys are going to be okay.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Honestly? I think that she’s better off now, anyways. She deserves a lot more than I could ever give her. I wasn’t exactly the greatest boyfriend in the world.”
He winces. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?” I ask, taking another sip of beer.
“Be so self-deprecating. That’s a habit you’ve gotten into that needs to be broken right now.”
“Yes, sir,” I scoff at him.
He turns and crosses his arms across his chest and looks at me sternly. “I mean it, Bear. There are enough people out there that will be more than willing to knock you down. There’s no reason for you to do it to yourself.”
I wave my hands in surrender. “You win. I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll be so high on myself you’ll regret ever saying anything.” I jump up onto a chair and beat my chest proudly. “I am fucking awesome,” I say in my deepest voice possible. “I am the epitome of hard-fucking-core.”
