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

by TJ Klune

  “About you and Anna!” he says to me. “I had to hear it from her?”

  “Me and… who? Me and Anna?” I say, still trying to think of a lie. One half of my brain still has not caught up with the other, and I don’t get what he’s saying.

  “You guys broke up!” Creed exclaims, punching me on the shoulder. “How the hell could you not tell me that? I knew something was wrong with you when I spoke to you last night!”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say, believing in God 100 percent. “Yeah, we did.”

  “I called her this morning when I got back,” he says, pushing past me to open the fridge. He pulls out beers (I thought you didn’t want to drink anymore! I think wildly) and hands one to me and Otter and cracks his open. “She told me you guys broke up last weekend,” he continues, propping himself against the counter. “She didn’t really say why, though. She sounded really funny about it.”

  I nod and drink three-quarters of the beer down in a single pull.

  “Well?” he barks at me.

  “Well, what?” I say, drooling the ale down my chin.

  “Bear! What the fuck happened!”

  “Oh. Oh, uh, it ended.”

  He rolls his eyes and smacks me upside the head. “Are you broken tonight or something?” he scowls at me. “I know it ended, Bear, but thank you for refreshing that fact. I want to know why.”

  I steal a glance at Otter and Ty for help, but they are staring everywhere but at me. I sigh and look back to Creed. I take another drink. “It… wasn’t working out?” I hazard.

  He gives me a hard gaze. “Bear, you’re going to have to do better than that. I go away for two weeks and come back and everything is in disarray!” He holds up his hand and starts counting off. “You and Anna are broken up. The Kid is spending the night at friends’ houses. Otter has done a complete one-eighty over something. I swear to Christ it’s like the whole goddamn world is ass-backwards, and I don’t know what the hell is going on!”

  I shrug again. “It just wasn’t the same anymore,” I tell him slowly. “She and I weren’t… meshing very well. As for the Kid, he’s trying something different, I guess. And Otter… Otter must… be in a good mood?” This last part comes out as a squeak, and I see Otter cover his mouth and try to conceal his laughter. I remind myself to kill him later.

  Creed takes another drink and leans in and whispers (though loud enough for all to hear), “I think Otter’s back together with Josh or Jason. He won’t tell me, though, the fag.”

  “His name is Jonah,” I say flatly, without meaning to.

  Creed appears startled. “Well, Jonah, then.” He throws a dishrag at Otter’s head and says, “He’s not saying a goddamn thing to me about it, though. It sounds like you know more about it. Remind me to ask you later.”

  “I told you I’m not back with Jonah,” Otter retorts, throwing the rag back at Creed, who sidesteps it and lets it fall onto the countertop.

  “Well, you’re obviously getting something from somewhere,” Creed says. “You’ve practically been skipping around the house since I got home. I shudder to think what kind of faggy orgies have been going on around here since I’ve been gone.” He turns to me and peers at me curiously. “Have you seen any men in ass-less chaps in my absence?” he asks me.

  “Nope,” I say. “No chaps.”

  “That’s good. I’d hate to walk in on—”

  “You shouldn’t talk like that,” the Kid interrupts, his voice cold. “That’s not a very nice thing to say at all, Uncle Creed.”

  Creed’s eyes go wide, as do mine and Otter’s. I can only speak for myself, but I think they’d all agree that we’ve never heard the Kid sound like this before. He eyes are narrow and his arms are crossed, and he’s shooting daggers toward Creed.

  “Uh—say what, Kid?” Creed asks him.

  “Don’t say fag,” Ty growls at him. “That’s a mean thing to say to anyone. You wouldn’t like it if I called you that, so I don’t like it when you call Otter that.”

  Creed looks strangely at the Kid and then back at me and then to Otter and then to the Kid again. He nods slowly. “You’re absolutely right, Tyson,” he says quietly. “I was just joking around, but I promise to not say that around you again.”

  “Don’t say that around anyone,” Ty admonishes.

  Creed raises his hands, surrendering. “Okay, okay: I won’t say it around anyone ever again. Geez, Kid. You’ve got a stare down that would scare Jesus.”

  The Kid continues to glare at Creed, and I motion to Otter to take him out of here before he launches himself at Creed and takes him out. Otter nods and lifts the Kid off the counter and into his arms. The Kid rests his head against his shoulder, and Otter kisses his head and whispers something into his ear, and from here, I can see him smiling. They leave the kitchen, and it’s not until we hear the TV turn on (CNN again) that Creed turns to me, his face ashen and his eyes wide.

  “Okay,” he says, his voice shaky. “What the fuck was that all about? How the hell does he know about Otter?”

  “You weren’t exactly being subtle,” I note.

  Creed throws his hands up in the air. “So my lack of disclosure makes a third grader able to figure out my brother’s sexual proclivities? And how the hell did this get turned back on me, anyways? I was supposed to be chewing you out, not getting my ass handed to me.”

  “He’s not a normal kid,” I say, reminding myself for the billionth time.

  Creed takes another swig of his beer and sets it down. “I know that,” he tells me. “And we’ve got no one to blame for that but ourselves.” He shakes his head. “But that still doesn’t answer the question, Bear. Come on, spill.”

  I shrug. “He asked Anna and me last week if Otter was gay. I didn’t see the point in lying to him about it.” I know, I know. That’s not exactly what happened. If Anna hadn’t been there, we’d probably still be sitting on the couch, him repeating my question, me with my mouth hanging open. Whatever. “He’s proven over and over again that he’s more than capable of handling things that would make most of us run in the other direction,” I tell Creed. “What’s the point of ignoring it if he would find out one day as it is?”

  Careful, Bear, it whispers. You’re almost to that critical hypocritical stage. But at least you’ve moved past anger and denial, though, right? Oh, the steps are just so much fun! I think acceptance is right around the corner! Gay pride, here we come! It’s raining men at the YMCA! HALLELUJAH!

  I look away from Creed.

  “So the Kid knows, then?” Creed says in awe. “Well, that changes a lot. Now I’m really going to have to watch what I say. You don’t think….” He pauses and looks down at his beer, knocking it back and forth between his hands.

  “Think what?” I ask curiously.

  He hesitates, then says, “You don’t think Otter… gets offended by what I say?” He begins to speak faster. “I mean, I don’t care who Otter sleeps with. I don’t care that he’s a fa—gay. I don’t care that he’s gay. Why would I?” He grins thinly. “He’s my brother. You don’t turn away from someone like him just because he likes dick instead of the good stuff.”

  I chuckle. “You certainly haven’t lost your way with words.”

  “Bear, I’m serious!” he exclaims. “Does Otter really think I’m some gay-bashing homophobe? I thought he knew I was always joking!”

  I roll my eyes at him. “He doesn’t think that at all, you moron. Otter would have beaten you down years ago if he had thought that at all.” I grin and take another drink of my beer. “He thinks we should even tell you about—” I freeze, the words dying in my throat. My tongue becomes stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I feel my stomach roil. Once again, my lips forgot to tell my brain that it was not supposed to move without prior authorization. Oh my GOD! my mind shrieks. Red alert! Red alert! Batten down the hatches and SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH! I grip the beer bottle so hard that I’m afraid it’s going to shatter in my hands. I think I should and cause a distraction, because Creed is sta
ring at me intriguingly, waiting for me to finish.

  “Tell me what?” he asks.

  ABOUT US! the voice bellows. HE THINKS WE SHOULD TELL YOU ABOUT US! CREED! CAN YOU HEAR ME? BEAR IS FUCKING YOUR BROTHER! YOU STUPID IDIOT, HE’S FUCKING YOUR BROTHER!

  “Bear?”

  I try to smile at him, but I know it’s a grimace stretched across my face. Once again, a blinding moment of panic has burrowed itself into me, and I can’t think of a single thing to say. The little voice inside my head continues to scream, begging, threatening, pleading for me to tell the truth. It gains control of me for a split second, and my mouth opens to do just that when I snap it shut, retaining brief dominance over myself. It could all be over! it howls angrily. It could all be over if you just grew a pair! How bad do you think it could be if he’s standing there, practically on his knees over worry about what Otter thinks! This isn’t a man who will hate you! Well, he’ll be shocked, it concedes, but he’ll get over it! Just say what’s in that secret place you’ve kept under lock and key. Oh please, Bear. Don’t keep it in the shadows anymore! I open my mouth again, not sure what is going to spill out, when I’m saved (cursed? foiled?) when Otter walks back into the kitchen.

  Creed jumps at the opportunity. “So you have been keeping secrets from me!” he admonishes his brother.

  Otter looks startled. “Uh, what? Secrets about what?” He looks at me, and I want to frantically wave my arms, but I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

  Creed glances back at me victoriously then turns back toward Otter. “Bear said that you guys decided to tell me something. I was feeling all bad and shit for calling you a fag—er, gay, sorry—and Bear said you guys wanted to tell me something.”

  “He did?” Otter says, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. He looks to me again, and I try to show him inside of me, to see the storm that is brewing on the edge of the ocean. I try to speak, to scream, to make any kind of noise to show my dissent, but I’m frozen in my spot and for the life of me I cannot move. Get it over with, it whispers, as I shove it back down. Get it over with before it’s too late. And then it’s gone, the voice silenced and locked away within my depths.

  “Bear?” Otter asks me. “Are you sure?”

  Three little words. Are… you… sure. Three words that I’ve heard put together before in my life (words that I myself have used) but never before have they sounded so ominous, so full of change. As I look between Otter and Creed, all I can think about is how I wish it was fall and Creed was back in Arizona and we’d never had this conversation. I wish that Creed had decided to stay an extra day in Portland. I wish… God, how I wish so many things. But do you want to know what I really wish? I wish I could look at my best friend and my… boyfriend… and tell them both what they want to hear. The secret place locked inside me cracks, and the chains it is bound in shake, and the rust flakes off and for a moment—one shining, breathtaking moment—I think it will explode, sending its splinters ricocheting throughout me. But the bonds are strong, the secret place fortified. It cracks, yes, and it shakes, oh yes, but I’ve been a good craftsman and it holds.

  It holds.

  “I said that we decided to tell him about how Ty found out you were gay,” I say smoothly, hating the slickness of my voice, ignoring the flash of annoyance I see cross Otter’s eyes. I turn to Creed. “Ty heard you and Otter talking one time we were over here about how Otter was fighting with his… boyfriend.” (Oh, Bear, it whispers.) “He said he wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or anything, but what can you do?” I shrug. “Kids will be kids.”

  Creed looks back and forth between me and Otter suspiciously. I’m about to go on spitting more half-truths when he laughs. “So it kind of was me,” Creed says, knocking back the rest of his beer. “Well, shit, Bear: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have to give the Kid the idea like that.” He looks back at Otter. “Maybe he’s right,” he says. “Maybe I do need to watch what I say.”

  “It’s okay,” I say. I take a quick look at Otter and see disappointment play across his face, skulking, mocking me. I beg him silently to look up at me, to understand where I’m coming from, to remember his promise of a short while ago to take this at my speed. He sighs, and his shoulders slump, and he finally looks at me, and even though there is that promise between us, it does nothing to cushion the hurt I see in his eyes. I want to rush across the room and take him in my arms and whisper apologies, to utter that old cliché of how it’s not you, it’s me, but that won’t do. That’s apparently not who I am. He walks to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water and walks past me, and for a moment, time slows down. It’s one of those moments where it feels like you’re the only two people left in the world. Everything seems to eek along, and the place around you dissolves into nothingness, and it’s a gasp in time that’s supposed to make you feel more connected to someone than anyone ever before. Now try having one of those moments when time slows, and the person walks by, and your eyes meet, but it’s not the slow beating of your heart that catches your breath but the shadow that you’ve seen crossing that person’s face a few times before, a shadow that you know you’ve caused and that you know you could do something about if only you had the guts to do it. If only….

  “Wait,” I breathe, reaching out and catching his arm.

  Creed, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. You see, a lot has gone on since you left. A lot has gone on for years, actually. I’m the reason that Otter left. Whether he agrees with me or not, I’m the reason he left, and I’m the reason he stayed away. Something happened between me and your brother, Creed, and it happened right after my mom left. I was scared and I was sad, and he came to my house the night before he left, and I did something that I shouldn’t have. I kissed him. I kissed your brother. But that’s not what I did wrong. What was wrong about it was that I let it affect me so much that he left. I could have stopped him. I could have stopped the last three years if I had really wanted to. And don’t get me wrong; part of me did want to stop him. But everything else was crumbling around me, and I didn’t know what else to do. I know that I can’t keep using that as an excuse, no matter how hard I try.

  But something funny happened, Creed. Otter came back. Otter came back and something in me shifted, something in me broke free. For the first time in a long time, I saw myself through somebody else’s eyes. It was blinding because it was like looking into the sun. I’ve never had anyone look at me that way before. Something in me changed, and I’ve been struggling with it since. It’s an uphill battle every day, and I don’t see the end in sight, and that terrifies me. But if you want to know the truth, I want you to know. I love him. I love Otter. I think I always have, and I think I always will. It sounds weird, I know, coming from me. I’m the last person you’d expect to hear say something like this. I just don’t want to keep it in anymore. I’m tired of fighting it, and Otter told me the fight for me was all he’s ever known, and I couldn’t do that to him anymore. Not when he finally came home to me. Not when I could make this easier on the both of us. I am in love with your brother, Creed, and it’s all going to be okay. Nothing will change between you and me because of this. You’re still my best friend, you’re still my brother. Can you see that? Please tell me you can….

  “What, Bear?” Otter asks me quietly, waiting. Creed looks over at us curiously. The words can spill out, I know they can. I know they can.

  “Nothing,” I mutter, dropping his arm. Otter looks at me for a moment longer, his eyes filled with sadness. He then shrugs subtly and walks out of the room. I watch him go. It feels like forever that I’m watching him go.

  “So the Kid knows?” Creed says, completely oblivious to the crashing of the world. “Like I said, I’m sorry, dude. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I whisper softly.

  9.

  Where Bear and the Kid Plot and Plan

  (And Write Bad Poems)

  “WHAT am I going to do?” I groan into my hands. “It’s like I can s
ee myself being open and honest about everything, but I don’t recognize that person. And I’m afraid that if I can’t do it, Otter is going to get frustrated and leave. How the hell did I get myself into this position?”

  I sit on the couch at my house a couple of days later, after the fiasco that was Creed’s homecoming. I’ve been kicking myself for the last forty-eight hours, replaying the look on Otter’s face over and over again until I can’t bear to see it again. So of course, right when I think I’m over it, he pops back into my head, his eyes showing what no words can convey. The guilt has been eating me from the inside out. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t function on a normal day-to-day level like I should be able to. The last two days have gone by in a fog of Otter-ness, and unless I get some kind of reprieve, I’m going to go insane. I haven’t seen him since I took Ty home that night. We’ve talked on the phone, but I’ve had to work late the last couple of days, and I’ve gotten no chance to grovel at his feet for forgiveness. Trust me, it’s not been lost on me how I sound. I’ve never acted this way before, not even with Anna. With her, if I ever did something stupid, and she was upset with me, I always knew that she would get over it. I just needed to give her her space, and eventually she would call me, whether it be the next day or a week later. That’s how we functioned. But now with Otter, only two days have gone by, and there’s been one short conversation where nothing of consequence was said, and I’m ready to crawl up the fucking walls. I sound so lame.

  The face that belongs to the ear I’m bending sits back in his chair, his little legs dangling off the edge, not quite reaching the ground. Ty puts his hand under his chin and rubs his jaw thoughtfully. I can see he’s thinking, devising something, and I can’t help but feel a small sliver of hope rise through me. That’s immediately killed by the thought of how I’m waiting for my nine-year-old little brother to solve the crisis of my newfound sexuality and my… boyfriend, who apparently I’m pining for like I’m twelve. Hey, at least I know I’m pathetic.