3. Where Bear Attends the Most Awkward Dinner Ever
“
The Kid snorts from the backseat. “Wow, way to be topical. Bear, the likelihood of any of us coming down with SARS is—”
“Not a good time, Tyson,” I growl at him as I look at the backseat. He rolls his eyes.
I’m insulted. “Everyone likes Bundt cake.”
“Kid, do you like Bundt cake?”
“Oh, am I allowed to give my opinion now?” the Kid asks wryly. “Well, then, Otter, of course I don’t like Bundt cake. It has eggs in it. Baby chicken eggs. You don’t see chickens standing outside of maternity wards waiting to get our babies to make their Bundt cake, do you?”
“No,” Otter says thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “No, you sure don’t. That would be weird, though. Can you imagine like a long line of chickens, just getting handed babies one by one? I would pay money to see that.”
I would too, but I’m not giving them the satisfaction of saying so. “Back on track, boys,” I snap at them.
The Kid sighs. “What are you so freaked out about, Bear?” he asks. “I thought you weren’t going to worry about stuff like this anymore.”
Shit, he has a point. Why am I freaking out? It’s not like I’m worried that anyone in that house is going to be able to take these two away from me. The only person who’s capable of something like that is going to be me, and no matter how stupid I can be sometimes, there’s no way in hell that I’m going to let that happen. Why should I care what his parents think?
Maybe it’s because Alice and Jerry were better parental figures than my mother ever was. Maybe it’s because I can’t stand the thought of the disapproval I could see on their faces. They hadn’t taken Otter’s own coming out very well, regardless of how liberal they seem. I remember the ache I heard in Otter’s voice when he’d told me about how he’d finally gotten the courage to tell his parents about himself, how he’d expected there to be questions and possibly tears. What he hadn’t expected was the crushing silence he’d gotten, the looks of disbelief that turned into confusion and anger. Words were said, things that I know still haunt Otter to this day. They’d formed an uneasy truce after a time, but his sexuality has always been an uncomfortable topic of conversation. I know they love him (how could they not?), but when Otter had described the hurt in their eyes and the despair he’d felt, I could only feel myself grow angry at them, regardless of how hypocritical that was.
And maybe I’m freaked out because they see me as their son too. Imagine having two gay kids. Crap.
It isn’t just about you, though, is it? it chuckles, that damnable voice I don’t think I’ll ever escape. Yes, you’re freaked out, yes, you are worried about what they will think, but can’t you hear yourself? It’s not always about you, Bear, no matter how much you’d like to think it is. For once in your damn life, stop worrying about what others think of you when you should really be wondering just how much Otter needs you right now. You said it yourself: they can’t take the guys away from you. He has so much more to lose than you.
Dammit. I hate it when my crazy is right.
I look over at Otter, who’s watching me with careful eyes, no judgment, just waiting. His fingers are tapping rapidly against his leg, and I know he’s nervous. Shit. I told myself a while ago that I was going to do whatever I could to make this man happy, to make this man know every day just how I felt about him, that the fight for him was all I’ve ever known. It doesn’t matter what happens in there. If he needs me, I’ve got his back. And I swear to Christ if anyone so much as looks at him funny, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing they do.
Claws out, bitches , it whispers.
Indeed.
I reach over and take Otter’s hand in my own, feeling that big paw of his, rough against my palm and fingers. His hand is warm, familiar. “Whatever we do,” I say quietly, “we do together, right?”
He grins. Fuck, is it ever beautiful. “Together,” he says, getting all gooey on me again. For some reason, those moments make him the happiest, and I’ll be damned if my heart doesn’t start jackrabbiting in my chest. He leans over and brushes a kiss across my lips.
“Do you guys need a moment?” the Kid asks wickedly. “I won’t say anything when I go inside, but if Mrs. Paquinn is here already, then I’m sure she’ll know right away what you two are doing and will accidentally tell everyone on purpose.” He’s right, it’s now or never.
Famous last words.To be honest, I don’t know where we left things. From the moment he found out about me and Otter, he seemed to have my back, pushing me to get back with his brother after the disaster that was me making my own decisions. But then something changed that day in my apartment, when Anna had told me about her and him. Something had gotten off its track, and I didn’t know how to fix it. It probably doesn’t help that I’m the king of putting things off, only responding to a text or two of his over the past few weeks, after he’d gone back to Arizona. I don’t know what his problem is. Or, rather, I wonder if his problem is me. It didn’t help that apparently he hadn’t called and told me he was coming back into town. I was the one who always picked him up from the airport. No matter what else, it was always him and me, those sixty miles between Seafare and Portland our chance to have it be like it used to be. Anna probably picked him up this time.
That hurts more than I like to think about.I’m walking slower than I should be, and Otter and the Kid know this, taking tiny steps while I shuffle my feet, walking past the pictures on the wall, in this hallway, in this house where everything had changed for me last summer, where things had changed for all of us. I sometimes wonder if houses can have memories, the sounds of life around and in it leaching into the wood and plaster, the brick and tile. What would this house say? It’s such a trivial thought, so obviously outside the lines of reality, but I can’t help but think what these walls could tell us, what they could show me.
I don’t know. I’m thinking stupid things. Who philosophizes about houses?
Ugh.
I’m stalling and I know it.
We round the corner into the kitchen, and for a moment things get
brighter and louder, the people before us animated and smiling. Alice Thompson is rolling her green eyes at her husband, the look that says You’re full of shit but I still love you. Her blonde air is pulled back into a ponytail, her jawline angular and gorgeous. Jerry Thompson grins down at her from his towering height, and he looks so much like Otter that it chills me to the bone. His smile is crooked, the same lines forming around his eyes, although more pronounced. He reaches down and pecks his wife on the lips and mumbles something that causes her to laugh. She smacks him on the arm with the dish towel she holds in her hands. They both have always been affectionate, never worrying about showing how they felt about each other, for as long as I can remember. This was a house that felt like a home when mine felt like a prison. And while Creed and Otter both helped to make it so, their parents were the ones that allowed it, encouraged it. They were the ones I showed my report cards to, the ones who took me out and bought me clothes so I would have something to wear for my first day of junior high. They were the ones who fed me, took me on family trips, made sure my birthday was celebrated when my mother was locked in her room with a carton of Marlboro Reds and a plastic bottle of cheap whiskey.
Fuck.Anna Grant is standing next to Creed, looking down into a cookbook, pointing something out with a slender finger. They aren’t touching, but they are so close that their shoulders brush every now and then. Creed says something to her quietly, and I can see her flush slightly, running her left hand through her hair, something she only does when she’s pleased but doesn’t want to show it. I want to know what Creed has said to her to make her look like that, and I curse myself softly. It’s none of my business. Not anymore. And I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t.
Right?But it’s the last person in the room who sees us first, and she rises from her chair with an unladylike grunt, her knees popping as she grimaces. “It’s about time you guys got here,” Mrs. Paquinn says cheerfully. “I was beginning to wonder if maybe you guys had been kidnapped by Bigfoot. Apparently, he’s been sighted twenty miles north of here.”
Oh, Mrs. Paquinn.Tyson runs over to her and wraps his arms around her waist, and she smiles down at him as she strokes his hair with a slightly gnarled hand. “There’s no such thing as Bigfoot,” he says to her. “Right?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t speculate one way or another,” she says amicably. “I would tell you that my Joseph, God love him, saw him at least six or seven times out there in the woods when he was logging, but it may have just been a forest gorilla. It’s very easy to get the two confused, I would think, especially if the boys had had their afternoon beer as they were prone to do.”
“There’s no gorillas in the forest, Mrs. Paquinn,” he says, rolling his eyes.
“Have you ever seen one?”
“Well, then, you can’t say they are not there,” she says definitively. “I should think there are probably whole bands of them somewhere out there, but I can’t say for sure, because I am not an expert on the matter.”
“You’ve been watching the animal channel again, haven’t you?”“Three hours every day,” she agrees. “Next week, they are doing shows on giraffes, and I am quite certain there are some living with the gorillas. But again, they all might just be Bigfoot, so I guess we’ll never know for sure.”
I want to continue listening to them go on and on (and on and on) because I am pretty sure Mrs. Paquinn thinks that Oregon is in Africa, but I’m distracted when Jerry and Alice walk over to me and Otter, who, for some reason, has positioned himself slightly in front of me, as if he’s trying to block me. Or protect me. Most might not see in him what I do, but I can see his shoulders are slightly tensed, the way his arms are stiff at his sides. I don’t know what the big guy thinks his parents are going to do to me, but I can’t help being touched by his misguided attempt at guarding me from the Big Bad Jerry and Alice. Jesus, I am getting soft.
His mother reaches him first and reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck. He bends stiffly down, his arms staying at his sides. What the hell is he doing? God, can he make it any more obvious? Alice notices something is off and glances at me over his shoulder, her eyes missing the gold but still familiar. She looks puzzled and asks me a question without speaking, but I school my face and don’t say anything.
“When did you get home?” she asks as she lets him go. His father reaches out to shake his hand. I think for a moment Otter will make it more awkward, but he reaches up and grabs his father’s hand, shaking it twice before dropping it back to his side. “Are you back in Seafare for good?”
“Creed didn’t say anything to you?” he asks her warily. Where the fuck did confident Otter go? I think back over the past couple of days, wanting to see if I’d missed something, maybe something he’d said, something he’d done to show me that he was as worried about tonight as I am. I realize a little too late how selfish I’d been, yet again. He hadn’t said a damn thing. He didn’t want to put any more stress on me. I don’t know how I know this, I just do. I really need to start working better at this whole relationship-witha-guy thing.
His dad shakes his head. “He said we’d need to wait and hear things from you.” Jerry turns to me and grins. “And how are you, Bear?” he asks, reaching out his hand. I shake it, like Otter had done.
“I’m fine,” I say, making my voice sound stronger than I feel. Otter needs to know I’m okay so I can make him okay. “It’s good to see you both.” I laugh quietly when Alice wraps her arms around me, like I knew she’d do. “How was… wherever you guys were?”
Alice pulls away from me, eyes shining. “Oh, Bear, it was absolutely magnificent! We have so many pictures to show you later. But that’s not important right now. Jerry and I simply need to hear about you and the Kid. What’s going on with the custody hearings? Is there anything we can do to help?”
I blush slightly at this, feeling that old rush of pride that does me no good. After the mess I’d made in August, I decided I needed to work out something to make sure nothing like my mother coming back and threatening to take Tyson could ever happen again. Mrs. Paquinn had offered to get us in touch with a lawyer who practiced family law, but it was Creed who’d e-mailed his parents to front the money. I’d written them an email to let them know how much it meant to me (probably sounding like a blubbering moron and only realizing later that I’d typed everything in all caps, like I was shrieking my gratitude), but I hadn’t actually gotten to thank them personally.
“You both know what you did for me and Ty,” I tell them quietly. “I don’t think anyone could have done more. Because of you guys, chances are good that Ty will belong to me.”
Alice hugs me again, tears in her eyes. Ah, dammit. This had so better not be one of those nights when everyone starts crying around me and we all have to talk about our feelings. I totally put an embargo on all of that for the rest of the year. I hope they got the memo.
“Anything you need,” she whispers fiercely. “We’ll do anything you need us to. I’m just surprised that this came up all of a sudden. What made you decide to get custody of Ty?”
God, she doesn’t know anything. I look over her shoulder at Otter helplessly, and he reaches up to gently extract his mother’s arms from around my neck. “That’s a long story,” he tells her. “One that I don’t think we need to rehash right this second.” He gives a pointed glance at Ty, who’s still chattering away with Mrs. Paquinn, and his mother’s eyes widen for a moment, and she nods.
“Well, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” she tells us. The timer goes off on the oven, and she turns back into the kitchen. “Kid,” she says as she reaches for an oven mitt, “you’re going to just love what I’ve made for you.” Ah, crap. I should have realized before coming here that Alice Thompson is a firm believer that one should have to eat whatever everyone else is eating, and if the Kid’s along, that means it’s going to be something vegetarian. And probably gross. None of us have the heart to tell her that her cooking is not one of her best skills.
“I’ve got pizza on speed dial,” Jerry mumbles to me and Otter. “What is it?” the Kid asks, running over to stand beside her as she pulls something large and brown and evil out of the oven.“Well, you know how I made tofurky that one year?” Ugh, don’t remind me. I had the shits for a week. And don’t look at me like that. You would have too. “Well,” she says, flourishing her hands over the pan of lumpy weirdness. “I found a recipe for tofu meatloaf. I call it tofeatloaf.”
Shoot me now, please.The Kid does his best to look suitably impressed, but I can tell he’s mulling the name of the new confection over in his mind, just like I am. I love Alice Thompson to death, don’t get me wrong. I’ve told you that she was a mother to me when my own didn’t know how to be. But there is no way on God’s green earth that I am going to eat something that has the word “feat” in the middle (work with me here: “feat” turns into “feet,” and now all I can picture is cutting down into the middle of the brown blob and seeing toes sticking out. Don’t tell me you didn’t think the same thing.). The Kid tells Alice that it looks amazing, but he also sounds amazingly facetious (ha!). Alice, of course, notices none of this and smiles down at the Kid like he’d just told her that Martha Stewart committed suicide because there was no way she could compete with toe-loaf.
“You have to take the first bite,” Otter whispers to me, his breath ghosting over my ear. I try not to shiver at it. I almost succeed.“Not hardly,” I whisper back. “It’s your mom. If you don’t, I’ll tell her that we moved into a house together and that we have sex even though we’re not even married.” Those words come out before I can stop them, and I try to ignore the startled look on Otter’s face that suddenly morphs into the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen on him. I’ve got to stop speaking before I think.
“Promise?” he growls, dropping his voice an octave or two, knowing exactly what kind of effect it has on me.I shiver again. He notices, and his hand, hidden behind me, brushes slightly against my ass. I don’t even jump or scowl at him. Odd.
“The tofeatloaf will need a moment to settle,” Alice announces with a frown, poking it with a finger. I almost expect it to reach out and poke her back. Or bite her arm off. “Dear, will you help me set the table?”
Jerry moves away from me and Otter and obliges his wife without another word. Before I can turn and say anything to Otter (Mexico!), Anna and Creed stand before us, looking terrifyingly united in their matching expressions of resolve. I stare back at them, waiting for one of them to make the first move. There seems to be such a rift between the four of us, and I don’t know what to do to fix it. I think about opening my mouth just for shits and giggles to see what comes out, but Creed beats me to it. Damn him.
“We’ll be right back, Mom,” he calls out over his shoulder. “We’ve got to talk to Bear and Otter for a moment.” She waves her hand in an easy dismissal.
Neat.Creed grabs me by the arm and pulls me none too gently out of the kitchen, leaving Anna and Otter to follow. I catch the Kid’s eyes, who’s looking at me like he’s about to go on the attack, but I shake my head just once, and he settles, his gaze following me out of the room.
I’M GOINGto be upfront with you, probably a little more than I’ve been
since we started talking again. It’s not like I’m trying to hide things, but I can’t see how this conversation is going to go without you figuring out just how fucking miserable I am about this whole situation with Creed. I’ve had a problem with honesty for quite a while, but obviously not because I enjoy it. I couldn’t (and still kind of don’t) stand the thought of those around me thinking less of me, that I’d disappointed them somehow with the choices I’ve made. It’s not fair, I know, that I keep talking bullshit when it could be so easy to have everything out in the open, consequences be damned.
But fuck that. I think about the consequences incessantly. I worry over them to a point that it’s almost paralyzing, and the only thing I can do is freak out about what the hell is going to happen next. You don’t need to tell me this because I already know it. Consider it one of my defining traits, no matter how ridiculous it is. I don’t know if we could have lived through the fallout if I hadn’t second-guessed everything I thought to be true. It’s not easy when your view of the world has so completely shifted that it’s barely recognizable.
And now that it seems to be shifting to some normalcy (there’s that word again, normal) there are still things tugging at it, pulling it out of whack. And while it can’t all rest on him, the biggest part of it is Creed.
Otter had tried to talk to me about him, although not on Creed’s behalf. We’d both agreed that Creed wasn’t a homophobe, but that was as far as we could get. As much as I love him, Otter just can’t understand what it is I have with his brother. Sure, they are actually brothers, but it’s not the same, at least in my eyes. Otter and Anna had been there almost as long as Creed had been, and even though I’d started out loving one and then the other, Creed was there no matter what, and through all the shit, he remained my constant in this world. I’m an ass, I know, for thinking that not having Anna around is easier for me than not having Creed around. I can only say this because it’s true. I love her, and I think part of me always will, but I need him. I need him in my corner. I need to know I can pick up the phone and call him and talk about whatever just because we can.
I know, I know: I, I, I. Same old shit, right?But I don’t know how to fix it because I don’t know what the fuck is wrong. Is it because I lied to him about Otter and me? Is it really about the fact that there is an Otter and me? Or is it something as simple as a combination of all the shit I’ve put him through for the last three years? I leaned on him so much. Probably too much. Just because I had to deal with her leaving doesn’t mean he had to.
But he did. And that’s why I’ve got to fix this. I can’t have this go on anymore. I have to get my best friend back.My brain is broken and I missed the recall order.
There’s a beat of silence where everyone feels embarrassed for me, but they are used to me by now not thinking before I speak, so I’m almost relieved when they let my rudeness slide.
“We’re taking it as it goes,” Anna tells me softly. They stand close to each other again, and Otter stands in my space, and I almost wonder if it’s us versus them, and I can’t stop myself from thinking about the last time I’d actually felt like that, when Creed had—
does anna know why otter left to begin with—felt the need to cut me out, where he’d retaliated in the only way he knew how. I know I’d backed him into a corner—
that’s the real reason otter left
—and it was no fault but my own, but I can’t stop the bitterness from welling in me, that he’d seem to give up on me so easily because— everything else was a lie
—he couldn’t seem to handle the fact that his best friend and his brother had found something together, even if it had never started out to be like that. I try to stop the anger from rising, because anger can’t fix anything right now. It’ll only make things worse, and I already have a feeling tonight is going to be a blowout.
“That’s… cool,” I mumble, feeling Otter reaching down and squeezing my hand. I look up at him, and he’s calm as he watches me, and when he squeezes my hand again, I know what he’s trying to say, to just hear them out, whatever they wanted to say before I decided to ask them if they were still fucking. I’m surprised I don’t get punched in the face more than I do, to be perfectly honest.
“I’m happy for you guys,” I try again, even though it sounds like I’d rather have my balls stabbed with a pair of garden shears. “Really.” Anna rolls her eyes at me, but I see the corners of her mouth begin to quirk. “Same old Papa Bear,” she says quietly.“Same old me,” I agree. For better or worse.
“That’s not what I pulled you out here for,” Creed cuts in, obviously wanting to stop his best friend and girlfriend (gross!) from falling back in love and screwing right here in front of him.
“Then what’s up?” Otter asks him.Anna and Creed glance at each other before Creed says, “We just need to know how we should play this. We don’t want to mess anything up by saying something we shouldn’t.” He chuckles darkly. “But I don’t know how long that’s going to last. Did you see the people that are here? I think we should take bets to see if we can even get through Mom’s foot-loaf before we’re all talking about the big gay wedding we’re going to be attending.”
I swear to God if someone talks about marriage one more time, I’m going to go postal and junk-punch everyone in this house. It’s only been four goddamn months!
Or it’s been years, if we’re being honest with ourselves, it whispers. It’s the butt sex that’s only four months old.At least Creed seems to be joking about it, though. I catch his eye and he holds the gaze, and there’s something there, not quite a spark, not quite an acknowledgement, but it’s there nonetheless, and I know I’m going to have to indulge him if I’m going to get anywhere. That’s okay, though. I’m not above groveling. When there’s no other choice, of course.
“We haven’t really decided what we’re going to do,” Otter admits.Creed and Anna gape at us. “You what?” Anna says, incredulity pouring off her in palpable waves. “You do know this is Bear we’re talking about, right? You mean he hasn’t gone over this again and again until he’s made himself sick? That’s got to be a first.”
Anna Grant, everyone. She’ll be here all night, with additional shows at seven and nine. Hurray.All three look at me like I’ve got a bug on my face that, if they even so much as move, will rip off my nose. To spite my face. See? I can be funny too.
“Look,” I say begrudgingly. “It’s not like we can keep this a secret forever, right? One day Alice and Jerry are going to start to notice that Otter and I live together and spend every waking moment together, and even if they don’t notice that, there’s no way they’re not going to be able see what happens when I look at him. Jesus, it’s a dead fucking giveaway because I get that stupid, goofy grin on my face and… and…. What the hell are you all staring at?”
“Who are you and what have you done with Bear?” Creed asks, eyes wide.“Aw,” Anna says sweetly. “You love him.” And she looks like she means it.
This is the weirdest conversation of my life.
But it’s Otter I notice the most, when he reaches down and cups my face in his hands, kissing me gently, his thumbs rubbing along my cheeks. I sigh quietly as he pulls away, that gold-green gaze filled so full of only God knows what. “You know everything I do is for you, right?” he asks quietly, searching my eyes.
I nod. Because I do.
“You know I would never pressure you into anything?”
I do. Because he won’t.
“Are you sure about this?”
The hell with it. “Yeah,” I say, and he grins like I’ve given him the greatest gift the world has ever known. “Creed’s right; it’ll get out sooner rather than later. At least we’ll be the ones controlling it, you know?”
“Oh, man,” Creed says. “I am so glad I came home for dinner. This is going to be seriously epic! Can I record it? Like, set up a camera? I swear I won’t put it on YouTube.”
“Creed,” Otter warns.“Is there a gay YouTube, though?” he asks Anna, and he sounds so much like himself that it knocks me off center. “I mean, there has to be, right? Like, it’s called GayTube or something? We can call it ‘When Bear Made My Parents Shit Themselves Silly’ by Creed Thompson. I bet I can get one of the tech geeks to put special effects in, maybe have rainbows shooting out of Bear’s eyes like gay laser beams. Oh my God, what if they could make him look like he’s riding a unicorn too!”
“GayTube’s a porn site,” I say without thinking.Their mouths all drop open again. I pray for a plague of locusts to fly in their mouths, but God seems to hate me today and doesn’t send one.
“You watch gay porn now?” Anna asks, and for some reason, it seems like she’s vaguely turned on and that makes me wish God would forget the locusts and just send the fire.
“You watching without me?” Otter growls at me heatedly. “Stop doing that voice!” I scold him. “We’re in your parents’ house.”
“We were in my parents’ house all summer,” he reminds me. “You didn’t seem to mind when I did it then.”“You did do it in my room, didn’t you?” Creed accuses me. We did. Once. But he doesn’t need to know that. “Of course not,” I scoff as Otter snorts.
“So, you really want to do this?” Anna asks me. “Because if you do, there’s something else you should know. My—”
She’s cut off when the doorbell rings.
“Who the hell is that?” Otter mutters, looking over his shoulder.
Otter, Creed, and Anna are able to stop me before I flee the house in terror.
A NNA’S parents, Ian and Stephanie Grant, sit across from me at the table,
their daughter to their right, and Creed next to her. I can’t help but notice the looks her parents exchange at the seating arrangement. I try to ask Anna silently what she’s told her parents about us, about anything, but she is studiously avoiding my gaze. On my side of the table, Otter is at my left, the Kid to my right, and Mrs. Paquinn on his other side. Jerry Thompson is at the head of the table to my right, Alice Thompson seated at the head to the left. She hands me a glass of wine, which I immediately chug and hand back to her for a refill. I’ve already had two since coming back to the kitchen, and my face feels a little numb. Alice arches her eyebrow, a trick her son has mastered, as well, and for some reason, I feel the strange need to tell her that I think Otter has a fantastic ass, but I drink more wine instead and finish the second glass. A gentle buzz begins to wash over me, and I know I need to slow down before I’m sloshed. I tend to act stupidly when I’m drunk. She fills me a third glass and waits for me to drink it, but I smile at her instead and she knows I’m done. For the moment.
Alice sits down and smiles at all of us. “Shall we say grace?” she says, not really asking a question, but telling everyone to shut up so we can talk to God. None of us are overly religious, but this is something we’re expected to do at the Thompson dinner table. It’s not like we go to church or anything. We’ll each go around the table and say something that we’re thankful for and blah, blah, blah. It’s how it’s always been here, when Alice and Jerry are around. It’s not like I mind talking to God; we just have a weird relationship, me and him. He seems to think he can jerk me around all he wants (like I’m his personal plaything), just to see me get back up to knock me down again. If God is real, I think he might be some kind of masochist. I imagine he sits there up on his cloud, long white robes flowing, drinking a forty of Mickey’s and smoking a Winston as he flips me the bird and plans what he’ll do next to piss me off.
Wow, that was some really good wine.We join hands, and I almost want to laugh at them because, ha, ha! Otter and I are holding hands in front of them! I squeeze his hand and give him a grin, and I can see he is highly amused by something, but that’s okay with me. I’m feeling fine. He squeezes my hand back before bowing his head. I look around and see everyone else has their head bowed and their eyes closed, so I figure I should do the same. So I do.
“Hey, God,” Alice says, and this causes me to snort, which I cover up in the guise of a cough that sounds like I have advanced emphysema and am about to hack up something that looks like the tofeatloaf. Alice allows me the honor of finishing before she continues. “We’d like to thank you for the food we’re about to eat”—oh yes, thanks, God, for the foot-meat—“and for the family that surrounds us. I am thankful to have both of my sons home, even if it is just for a short time.” She squeezes Mr. Grant’s hand, so he goes next.
“I’m thankful for the health of my family and friends,” he says.Dammit, that was going to be mine. Just vague enough not to need further explanation, just sentimental enough to hold up to inspection. Shit, I’ve got to think of something else. You can’t repeat in the thankful prayer dinner circle. It sounds like a cop-out if you do.
Mrs. Grant says, “I’m thankful that my friend Margie was able to beat cancer and is now in remission.”I don’t know Margie, and good for her, but what can I say? Are you there, God? It’s me, your favorite punching bag. I might be intoxicated. Already.
Anna says, “I’m thankful for this past summer.” Uh, what? “For allowing the people in my life to be what they needed to be.”I glare at her. Everyone’s eyes are still closed, so no one notices.
Creed says, “I’m thankful that Bear finally opened his eyes to what was right in front of him.” There’s a pause that’s so pregnant, I swear it’ll give birth to a litter of adamant follow-up questions if it’s not aborted. He finally finishes, “And decided to get custody of the Kid.”
Jerry goes next and says, “I’m thankful that we have the resources to be able to help Bear and the Kid through what is undoubtedly a trying time.” Me too, Jerry. Me too.Mrs. Paquinn says, “I’m thankful for Medicare and for God letting me get old enough that that hot nurse gets sent out to me once a week to assist me around the house. I’m also thankful for the tight scrubs he wears. And if my husband is listening in on this, tell him that I love him but that it’s rude to eavesdrop.”
Quiet chuckling.The Kid says, “I think it’s odd that we are praying to something that has never been proven to actually exist, but to avoid any… issues, I’m thankful for Papa Bear and for Otter and Anna, and Mrs. Paquinn and Jerry and Alice and Creed and Mr. Grant and Mrs. Grant and Dominic and….”
And he goes on in this vein for a while, but I’m stuck on the name “Dominic.” Who the hell is Dominic? Ty has never mentioned that name before. Does the Kid have an imaginary friend? Oh, Jesus, the therapist is going to have a field day with him.
Crap. It’s my turn. I’m not ready. I’m not ready. Thankful… uh, thankful. I grip Otter’s hand tightly and hope he understands that I need another moment. Just another second to think of something to say, to stop what I know is welling up inside me.
Otter says quietly, “God knows why I am thankful. He knows it every day.”Ah, of course he goes straight for the heart, the bastard. I’m not going to be able to speak past the lump in my throat, and he knows it. That doesn’t stop him from squeezing my hand. I want to break his fingers, but I resist the urge.
My turn.Goddammit, what am I going to say? Um… I’m thankful for… it’s not that fucking hard! There’s a shitload of things I’m thankful for! Like… crap!
Like Otter? it chuckles. The love that seems to shine down from his eyes every time he sees you? The way you can suddenly see what was right in front of you this whole time? The house he bought for you? God only knows you did nothing to deserve it. Oh, Bear, just open your mouth and see what happens! Isn’t that part of your charm? What fun!
I don’t think that “charm” is the right word for what I do. By now, the silence has dragged on, but heads are still bowed, giving me an opportunity to collect my thoughts. Still it goes on. Finally, Anna looks up and stares at me curiously, followed by Creed, who cocks his head. The Kid leans forward and is quizzical, and Mrs. Paquinn is smiling at me because, oh my God, she knows exactly what I’m thinking, knows exactly what I’m going to say, and then Otter opens his eyes and he sees it too, and even though he knows it won’t be eloquent (how can it be, especially since I’ve realized I’m drunk?) I’m going to say it regardless. He looks like he is about to stop me, but I won’t let him.
Here we go! it cackles gleefully.“Jerry and Alice,” I say quickly, a slight slur to my words that come out fast. “Otter and I live together, and the Kid lives with us too, and we have a house that Otter bought for me because he realized he was in love with me a long time ago, but it was too much for him to take because he thought I was straight. I pushed him away and that’s why he ran off to San Diego, but then he came back for me, even though he said he didn’t, and then Anna and I broke up—sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Grant—because she knew how I felt about Otter even before I did, but somehow I figured it out. Then Otter and me did it, oh shit, that’s not what I mean to say, sorry, sorry, but I love him and he loves me, and my mom came back and threatened to take the Kid away from me if I didn’t break up with Otter. I still don’t get why she did that or how she knew about me and him, and it broke my heart, but I did it anyways, and then I got an attorney, and for some reason Otter took me back. Now we all live together in the Green Monstrosity, but we’re trying to fix it up, and it’s starting to be a home for us, and I don’t think the best name for the tofu meatloaf is tofeatloaf because it reminds me of feet and I think that’s gross, but I’ll still eat it because you made it. You are like a mom to me and that’s really cool, and I think I’ll love your son forever because I always have and I always will, so please don’t freak out, in Jesus’s name, can I get an amen!” I gasp in air. I let go of Otter’s hand and suck down the wine, emptying my glass for the third time.
Now everyone is staring at me.“That… that was so awesome,” the Kid breathes. “My Lord, it’s like we could hear what he thinks like.”
I wonder if it would be polite to ask Alice if I can just forgo the glass and chug the wine directly from the bottle. See? This is why I don’t drink. I either end up making out with my best friend’s older brother or I effectively out myself to his parents, my ex-girlfriend’s parents, and for some reason feel the need to tell them we have sex. I would have preferred they thought of me as an asexual being because from the looks on their faces, I think they might be trying to understand how the mechanics behind that would work. That is freaking me out.
Mrs. Paquinn is smiling so widely I think her dentures might fall out onto the table. The Kid is still in awe. Creed looks like Santa barfed Christmas presents in his lap (excited and disturbed all at the same time, natch). Anna is shaking her head, a small smile on her face. Oh, same old Papa Bear, I’m sure she’s thinking. Her parents are looking between the two of us like they are watching a game of tennis that just got a whole lot more interesting. And a whole lot gayer. Jerry drops his fork, and it clangs down onto the table, bouncing off his plate and onto the floor. Alice is squinting at me as if narrowing her vision will cause me to disappear.
But while everyone around us reacts in the way that they will, it’s him I turn to, him I need to see the most, to make sure I haven’t just made the most egregious mistake of my life, that once again my mouth hasn’t caused a shitstorm that will cause him to run screaming to another state just so he won’t have to look at me because I’m a stupid moron who doesn’t fucking think before he speaks, who gets drunk and says/does things that can’t be taken back.
I should know better.He’s watching me, yes, and the gold-green is shining, oh yes, but it’s not as if I’d fucked up again, or that I’d spoken out of turn. No, it’s with that thing he does every now and then, that regard that leaves me breathless, that shows me that for some damn reason, he thinks the sun rises and sets with me. He’s a fool, to be sure (how could he not be, with all that he’s put up with to get here?), but goddammit, he’s my fool, and he’s looking at me like I’ve just done something extraordinarily right, that I’ve made him the happiest son of a bitch in the world, and that I am so getting laid when we get home.
So naturally, to make the night more entertaining (what fun we’re having!), I burst into tears.Goddammit. This is why I don’t fucking drink.
“I’m sorry!” I babble at him as he grabs my hand and pulls me into a rough hug, my forehead on his chest, his chin on the top of my head. One arm wraps around my neck protectively and the other hand rubs my back in wide circles, attempting to soothe whatever outburst seems to be pouring out of me. And for the life of me, I can’t shut up. “I didn’t mean to do that,” I cry at him, clawing at his shoulders, trying to disappear into him, because apparently I have the emotional maturity of a thirteen-year-old girl, and I know I have the ugliest cry face in the history of mankind. I probably look like a snotty Wookiee right now. “It’s just that Anna’s dad took my God thanks, and I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and so I decided to say what I was really thinking about even though I tried to keep my mouth shut, and you know what happens when I drink and you still let me have wine? What the hell were you thinking, you big asshole! I just told your parents we do it, and this is all your fault!” By the time I finish, I’m shouting at him.
Everyone is still staring at me.“Bear,” he says quietly, and for some reason, this causes my harpy-like screeching to silence almost immediately. He pushes me back away from him, and I almost whimper at the distance between us, but then he cups my face in his hands, and all the others in the room disappear, fading out until there’s nothing but him, and since he’s all I can see, he looks so big, like he’s everything in the world, and how the hell did I manage to get this? Why in the hell did he choose me? I’ve been nothing but trouble since this whole thing began, caused nothing but heartache and anger, and any countless other negative emotions that I can think of, yet he still stands by me? He still can look at me like he’s doing right now?
Seriously , it whispers. What in God’s name did you do to deserve such blind devotion? Do you feel his hands on your face? That look in his eyes? It isn’t that he’s “like” everything in your world, Bear. He is everything in your world. What have you ever done to deserve that?
It’s right, of course. It always is. Oh, Christ, Otter’s so mistaken, he’s so wro—“Bear,” he says again, his voice a little stronger, a little louder, knowing he’s got to cut right through the crazy in my mind. “Stop it. Whatever’s going on in that head of yours, you stop it.” His thumb brushes over my lips as my chin trembles in his grasp. “I can see it there, behind your eyes. Just stop.” He leans forward, and in front of his parents, in front of my exgirlfriend’s parents, in front of my friends and family, in front of God and his forty of Mickey’s, he kisses me softly, chastely, even though the intent behind it is obvious, and it causes me to shudder in his hands.
And wonder of all wonders, I do stop. I do listen. I can’t say no to him. I’ve never been able to, not really. Even when I thought my actions were right, that I was doing the only thing I could, it still came back to him. It always comes back to Otter.
He leans back and practically pulls me into his lap, his arm again around my shoulders. But if feels different than just the moment before. His touch is almost defiant, his posture protective (possessive?). He rests me against his chest and squeezes tighter, and as I look up at him, he looks down at me and grins crookedly. He kisses me on the forehead and looks back up at his parents, at Anna’s parents, and his eyes grow hard, almost a glare, really. And I know now what he’s doing. He’s expecting someone in this room, either set of parents to say something against us, to explode with anger, accusations, and wrath. He thinks he’s protecting me from this, like he’s prepared to fight for me because—
the fight for you is all i’ve ever known— he thinks it’s his job, his misguided duty. I can’t let him do this alone. I just can’t, but it’s so fucking hard to move from my place against him, because it’s familiar, the feel of him under my hands, the smell that I’ve always associated with him (sandalwood on a quiet beach in the fall with a light drizzle coming down—yes, I’ve overthought that by a mile), and the room is taking on such a bright and spinning hue, and my mouth is just itching to open and spill out more drunken idiocy. It’s because as much as he thinks he needs to protect me, I know I have to do the same for him. If his parents are going to start shit, I need to make sure he knows I’ve got his back and will lash out against any person who attempts to say anything against him. Nobody fucks with Otter, not on my watch.
“So,” the Kid says. “This is way awkward.” He makes an airplane noise as he flies his hand to the table where he mimics an explosion. “I told you I should have recorded this,” Creed says to Anna. “GayTube’s totally going to be lacking now.”“Isn’t that a gay-porn site?” Mrs. Paquinn asks. “I should think they wouldn’t take familial coming-out dramas on the site unless it was done in the nude followed by coitus, but I haven’t seen pornography in weeks, so I don’t know what all the rage is these days.”
I almost want to ask how she knows about GayTube, but I can’t seem to bring myself to open my mouth for fear of what kind of answer I’d get. Knowing Mrs. Paquinn, she’d tell us she was studying gay sex so she could provide tips to Otter and me to “bring out the fullness” of our “passion.”
Blech.“Well, the night is still young,” Anna muses. “Who’s to say there won’t be coitus later on?” I almost want to point out that she’s talking about Otter boning me while sitting next to her mom, but I don’t think that would be in good taste.
“I’m not filming that,” Creed says quickly. “There are things in this world not meant for my eyes. Like ever. Ah, sick, I can’t stop thinking about it!” He rubs his hands over his eyes like he’s trying to scratch his brain.
“What’s coitus?” the Kid demands. “You can’t use words that I don’t know and then not explain them to me. I explain all of the big words I use.”“What’s the point of using big words if you have to explain them all the time?” Creed asks him. “You would think you would just get tired of having to re-explain everything.”
The Kid rolls his eyes. “It’s not my fault you can’t understand the words I use. Pick up a book every once and while, huh?”“Like what, the dictionary? A thesaurus?”
“It couldn’t hurt, Creed,” the Kid says. “You would think that after dating Bear, Anna would want someone a little more… verbose. You gotta step up your game.”
“Oooooh,” Mrs. Paquinn and Anna say.
“Oh, snap,” Creed says, sulking. “That burned, Kid.”
Otter shrugs and pats me on the head. “I don’t love you just for your verbosity,” he tells me. Show-off.
“Creed and I are… dating,” Anna tells her parents almost apologetically, who stare at her like she’s grown a second head and it’s singing show tunes. “It just kinda… happened,” Creed tells his parents, who are looking at him like he’s just told them he’s pregnant with a litter of otter-bears.
“The summer of amore,” Mrs. Paquinn sighs. “Now only if that male nurse will fall in love with me and I can get some coitus of my own. What a dry spell it’s been! But I love my Joseph, God love him. No one could take care of a lady like that man. My goodness! It felt like it could go on for days.”
“What’s coitus!” the Kid snaps.
“It means sex,” Anna says patiently.
“Well, there’s coitus,” Anna says, starting to count off on her fingers. “And boning,” Creed says. “That’s two.”
“I think verbosal should be a word, if it’s not,” I tell Otter as he kisses my hair. “Doesn’t it sound like it’s a real word? Oh, man, I shouldn’t have drunken all that wine so fast because I can’t stop thinking about it. Drunken? Dranken? Is dranken a word? Like I drank something, why could I have not dranken it down? You can both drunk and have drunken something.”
“Fornicating,” Mrs. Paquinn says. “That’s three.”“You can make up whatever words you want,” Otter tells me. “Lovemaking,” he says while looking me in the eye.
“Oh, gag,” Creed says. “We’ll count it, even if it’s so incredibly gay that it should come with its own packet of fairy dust that you could sprinkle in the air when you say it. And the fact that my brother is making goo-goo eyes at my best friend, who has snot on his face.” Oh thank God, he still thinks of me as his best friend. I use Otter’s sleeve to wipe my nose. He growls at me.
“Doing the baby-making floor tango,” Mrs. Paquinn says. “That’s not a real one,” the Kid grumbles. “That just sounds stupid. What about fuc—”“Not at the table,” Anna admonishes sternly. “Or ever.”
“Yeah, don’t say fucking at the dinner table, Kid,” Creed says. “That’s fucking rude. Fuck.”
Anna kicks him in the shins, and he yelps.
“English is such a weird language,” I say to Otter as he rubs my back. “Sometimes, I don’t know how I learned it.”
“You didn’t,” Mrs. Paquinn, Anna, Creed, and the Kid all say, like they’re on some kind of Vulcan mind-meld.
“Good times sexy party,” Mrs. Paquinn says. “Going downtown and shopping at the meat market. Catching the ol’ kielbasa in the bun. Playing hide the wiener. Raiding the taco shop.”
“I don’t want to play this game anymore,” Creed says, staring at Mrs. Paquinn.“Coitus,” the Kid practices, rolling the word around on his tongue. “After dinner, why don’t we have some coitus, baby?” He turns to me. “That just doesn’t sound right.”
“On so many levels,” I tell him. “You’ll figure it out. You’re very verbosal.” I reached for the wineglass, but Otter stops me and I pout.“You’ve dranken enough,” he tells me. “Huh. I don’t know why that’s not a word. It sounds correct.” He kisses me again. “You’re right. English is hard.”
I grin at him.
“You’re dating Creed?” Anna’s dad asks her, his eyes wide.
Creed looks at his dad like he walks on water.
“That’s… that’s not what I meant!” Mr. Grant sputters. “I just don’t understand how Anna made Bear gay!”
Whoops. Wrong thing to say.
“I didn’t make him gay!” Anna shouts.
“Bear was a fruitcake long before Anna!” Creed snarls.
“Anna didn’t do it, I did!” Otter yells.
“Fruitcake!” I bellow.
“Don’t any of you know how biology works!” the Kid shrieks. “I never studied biology!” Mrs. Paquinn screams.
“Holy God, will all of you shut up!” Alice hollers.
We all look at her.
“Let me get this straight,” she says, and for some reason, that’s funny to most everyone in the room. Apparently that joke won’t die the death it deserves. I try to reach for more wine but Otter slaps my hand. Bastard. “We’re gone for seven months,” Alice continues, “and we come back, and my son has moved back to Seafare, Bear and Anna broke up, Bear and Otter are having… coitus”—dear God, please send meteors to destroy the earth and save me from this conversation—“and now they live together with the Kid, who Bear is trying to adopt, and Anna and my other son are dating?”
“No one ever remembers Mrs. Paquinn,” Mrs. Paquinn grumbles. Alice stares at her. “And you, what, want to have relations with your male nurse?”“His name is Jorge,” she sighs, rolling the r for almost ten seconds. “How exotic is that? He’s from Cleveland.”
She looks at her oldest son. “And you’re in love? With Bear?” Otter nods. “So much so I can’t even explain it.”
Jesus, he’s really looking to get laid tonight.
Mrs. Paquinn sniffs as she dabs her eyes. “That was so precious.”
“ My fault?” Jerry snaps. “How the hell is this my fault!”
“I don’t know! But you did something!”
“Why didn’t you tell us you’d broken up?” Mrs. Grant asks Anna.
“Because you would’ve asked why, and Bear wasn’t ready for people to know,” she says, glancing over at me. “I wasn’t going to out him just because I was angry.”
Otter’s staring raptly at Anna, so he doesn’t see me sneak more wine. I need to be way dranker (see? It sounds right!) than I already am. It still doesn’t stop my heart from stuttering in my chest at her words. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve Anna, but I must have done something right.
“And what about you?” Alice asks Creed. “Why are you mad at Bear?”I drop the wineglass on the table but nobody notices. That’s okay, though. I’ve spilled wine on the undoubtedly expensive white tablecloth. I cough ever so subtly and hide the growing spot with my napkin. No one sees my elaborate cover-up. I’m in the clear.
Creed rolls his eyes. “I’m not mad at Bear,” he grumbles, so obviously lying.“Bullshit,” Otter barks at him. “You’ve been a dick ever since you found out about us.”
“Oh, all of two weeks ago?” he snaps back.
“It was three weeks ago,” I mumble.
“Fine. Whatever.”
It’s now or never , it whispers. Screw it. You’re drunk, he’s pissed, everyone is listening, why the hell not? They all know everything else, so why not this? Ah, family therapy. Is there any better kind?
“No, not whatever,” I snap back, losing my cool. “What the fuck is your deal? Is it because I kept it from you? Is it because of the way you found out? I know I messed up. I know I fucking lied about so much, but, Jesus, Creed, you just bailed at the end. I know you’re not a homophobe, so what the hell is your problem?”
“Leave it alone, Bear,” Creed hisses at me. “You don’t want to do this now.”“Then when! You’ve haven’t said a damn thing to me since you left!” He glares at me. “Oh, and you’ve been so forthcoming? When did you pick up the goddamn phone and call me?”
He’s pissed, probably more pissed than I’ve ever seen him. The anger deflates out of me, and I know I won’t win this fight by yelling. “I just thought you needed time,” I say weakly. “I thought it was just strange for you or something. I figured you would call me when you were ready.”
“That’s what you always do,” he says. “You wait and you wait and you wait, all the while protected in this little bubble you’ve created for yourself and the Kid. You never fucking face things when they need to be dealt with. You tell half truths. You conceal full truths. You let things get so much worse before you realize that maybe you were wrong, that maybe you can admit you made a mistake. Christ, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re the most selfish fucking person on the planet!”
“That’s enough,” Otter snarls at him. “You think it’s been easy for him and the Kid? You’ve had everything you’ve ever wanted handed to you on a silver platter and you have the nerve to sit here and bitch and moan that Bear’s done what he could to protect the things he loves the most? Don’t talk to him about selfish, you prick. If anyone here is selfish, it’s you.”
I can’t let him do this. I can’t let Otter fight this out for me, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much he thinks he needs to protect me. It sucks. It really sucks, because regardless of what Otter says, regardless of how he tries to spin it, I can’t shake the undeniable truth that Creed is right. I think I’ve told you before that I realized a while ago how many goddamn mistakes I’ve made, how wrong I’ve been in the handling of all this. I thought my reasons were justified (and maybe, on some level, I still think they are—not you, not Creed, not even Otter could convince me I wasn’t acting in the best way I thought possible for the Kid), but there needed to come a point where I just stopped my bullshit. It took everything crumbling around me and that damn ocean, that vast ocean, to be lapping at my feet, that cold breeze blowing through my hair, the only illumination from the lightning flashing overhead. But that ocean is gone (oh, please let it be gone) but there are still earthquakes, times when I think the ground will open me up and swallow me whole. I don’t know if I’ll ever be rid of them.
“Otter,” I say as quietly as I can, but even then knowing our family can hear every word I’m saying. He turns to look at me, and the anger on his face loosens, the gold-green starts peeking in again around the black, and I know he can see me, I know he can hear me. “I love you,” I tell him, ignoring the quiet gasp I hear from his mother. “But you’ve got to let me handle this.” He starts to interrupt, but I shake my head and he closes his mouth. “If I let you fight every battle for me, it won’t be any better than where I was. You’ve got to let me do this.”
He looks at me like I’ve just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard, but something in him dissipates, and he sighs, latching himself around me again, his arm around my neck, my back against his chest. “Sometimes,” he whispers in my ear, his voice a growl, “I just want to bend you over my knee and spank the shit out of you.”
Oh, Jesus. So not cool. The big bastard would have to say something like that, knowing I can’t do a damn thing about it. He chuckles darkly as he feels me squirm in his arms, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking about.
Focus, McKenna. Focus.Would I be bare-assed when he did it, or would I still have pants on? Maybe just my underwear? He’s got big hands. Really big hands. I bet that would hurt. Like, a lot. Why am I so turned on by that?
Damn it, focus!
“What is it, then?” I ask Creed.
“I just told you,” he snaps at me.
“I heard what you said, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Do you remember what you said to me a few weeks ago? You sat right across from me and said ‘regardless of who you’re related to in this room, regardless of who you’ve fucked or who you’re fucking, I’m the most like you.’ Do you remember? I do.” He winces at my words, and his parents look horrified that their baby could ever even say such a thing. I can’t help but think that this is one of those dinners that everyone will remember but no one will ever want to admit they were at, like the time your Uncle Frank got drunk and started hitting on your cousins. Don’t give me that look. You know what I’m talking about. And at least you didn’t have cold tofeatloaf congealing right in front of you like a sad brown muskrat.
Well, at least now you don’t have to pretend to choke it down , it muses. All you have to do next time is to just remember to get drunk and start having an emotional meltdown in front of everyone! Think of all the parties you’ll get invited to!
Shut up.“That was different and you know it,” he tells me coldly. “You can’t compare that to now. Life doesn’t always bend and twist the way you want it to, Bear.”
He’s right, of course, and I tell him so. “So what is it, then? If nothing I’ve said is right, then what is it?”He looks around helplessly, but everyone suddenly finds neat things to stare at on the ceiling or on their hands. He’s not going to get help from everyone, and suddenly, I don’t want him to open his mouth. I don’t want him to say what he’s going to say.
“You want to know so bad?” Creed whispers. “You push and you push, so you want to know so fucking bad?”No, no, sir, I don’t, but I can’t seem to find a way to open my mouth (for once) to stop him.
“You were mine,” he says, his voice cracking (oh, damn it all), “and I didn’t have to worry about sharing you with anyone because I knew you would always choose me. I know you had Anna, but Jesus, dude, she was your girlfriend, and that was fucking different! You belonged to me, and I never thought I’d have to worry about another guy coming in to take my place. But then you told me about you and Otter, and whether you realize or not, whether or not you’ve been able to admit it to yourself or not, it goes back years. It wasn’t about this summer, or Otter coming home, or even three years ago when he left. You’ve always felt something for him, and it’s bullshit if you try to say otherwise!”
He knows me too well, can see the retort beginning to bubble at my lips, knowing it would sound false to both of us, no matter what I would try and say.
“Then you told us about you and Otter only when you had no other choice, but that was already after I’d heard it from him! You know how that felt, Bear? Knowing that my best friend couldn’t come to me with this? It was like you had no respect for me at all, like I was nothing to you. But that’s not what hurt the worst. What hurt the worst is Otter, my fucking brother, was the one taking you away from me. He was the one that would know you better than I ever could and do you know how much that hurt? Hurts? I can’t love you like he can, no matter how much I wish I could. And that kills me.”
Uh… whoa. Okay. Okay. What?“I want to be the one you come to when you need help. I want to be the one who can make everything better for you when you don’t think it can get any better. I want to be the one who makes you happy, who you run to when you’re not. But I can never be that person to you, not anymore. I don’t know if I ever was. So, yes, laugh it up, make fun of stupid Creed. Yes, I’m jealous, you bastard. I’m jealous because my brother has something with you that I will never have. He gets you completely, and it’s not fair. Not after all that we’ve been through. I want it to be me.” He stops, breathing heavily.
Silence.Immediately, of course, my brain runs through everything he just said, trying to pick out what the hell he was talking about, trying to decide on what was the most important, but of course, I could only focus on the thing that was the most inconsequential.
Would you expect anything else?
Did you hear that? That was me sighing.
Crap. Now everyone is staring at me again.
Damn you, mouth!
But it seems to be the right thing to say because I can see Creed deflate, a smile quirking at the sides of his mouth, like he knows he still wants to be pissed off but he can’t help it. He starts chuckling, and that gets me going, and pretty soon we’re bellowing with laughter while everyone else in the room is looking around, wondering when the crazy sauce got spilled and infected the room. I can’t explain to them (seeing as how my brain is slowly being deprived of oxygen) that that is something only Creed could say, that he wishes he could be gay (or you know, whatever it is I’m supposed to be—let’s call it conveniently Otter-sexual) so he could have me all to himself and not have to worry about sharing me with anyone else. It’s such a mind-blowing thing, such a random expulsion of words that of course I have to laugh, because if I didn’t, I’m sure I’d be weirdly turned on even though it would be way too incestuous to even remotely consider the fact that Creed wanted to bone me, even if he didn’t swing that way.
“You h-have a s-straight crush on me?” I gasp out, holding my sides. “Oh my God, you wish you could d-ddo me? Holy fuck me sideways!”“You stay away from him,” Otter warns him, and it only makes it worse because poor Otter is so serious about it, his anger so evident that he looks like he would tear Creed apart if he so much as looks at me funny.
“I s-sso didn’t want to say that out loud!” Creed says, starting to hyperventilate. “That was so not the p-ppoint!”“Better be careful, Otter,” Mrs. Paquinn says with evil in her voice. “I’ve read many stories about triangles between brothers. It never ends well for one of them. Well, except, you know, those kinds of stories where they… share. At the same time. I like those stories.”
That only makes it worse. Otter doesn’t think it’s very funny, Anna is staring at her… whatever (boyfriend?) like he just blew chunks all over her. I don’t blame her, though. Apparently she doesn’t have the greatest track record when it comes to guys, what with one falling in love with a man, the other wishing he could. The parents in the room are all sitting with wide eyes, and it’s only then do I realize how much I’ve missed all of them, how things only feel really complete now that they are here. They might be less inclined to agree at the moment, but in the end, I don’t know if that matters.
Creed and I both get up at the same time, and I practically run to him, and he laughs as he catches me in those big arms of his (don’t give me that look). I wrap my legs around his waist, and we just fucking laugh and laugh and laugh. It’s not that funny, I know. It’s not meant to be. It’s just life.
“You’re an idiot,” I tell him as we quiet down, and I step back onto my feet. “You fucking tell me shit from now on, you get me?”“Goes both ways,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “We’re stuck with each other.”
I grab him in another hug. “You don’t ever worry,” I whisper fiercely in his ear, undoubtedly aided by the wine that’s been given an extra boost by the blood rush. “You’ve got me, no matter what. I just don’t want to screw you.”
“Oh, please,” he whispers back. “We both know it’d be me doing the screwing. Otter’s made you into a big fat bottom.” He pauses for a moment. Then: “Anna totally thinks I want to have sex with you, doesn’t she?”
“Uh, yeah. You pretty much said you did.”
“Crap.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Get off me, then.”
“You let go first.”
“On three.”
“Okay.
“One….”
“Two….”
“You’re not going to let go, are you?” Creed sighs.
“Neither were you. You love me too much.”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“I know, right? Did you see how black his eyes got?”
“Seriously. If he knew kung fu, he would have gone Bruce Lee all over your ass.”
“Ew. Is that what he does to you?”
“Are you trying to be funny? I’m kind of having a moment here.” “This hug has been going on for a long time.”
“It really has. They’re probably still all staring at us.”
“Dude, how drunk are you? You just came out to my parents!” “Oh shit. Oh shit. I think your mom laced that wine.”
“What? With what?”
“More wine. Duh. Do you love Anna?”
“Ah, hell. Do we have to talk about that now?”
“Why not? You’re still hugging me. I can’t stop now. With any luck, I’ll forget this whole thing ever happened when I wake up with the hangover from hell.”
“I don’t know, Bear. Maybe. I think I could. But, you know….” “You live so far away?”
He sighs. “Yeah. I dunno. I’m worried that I started it for all the wrong reasons.”“Like what?”
“Er… never mind.”
“Like what?” I shake him a little.
“Tell me why and I’ll let you go.”
“Literally, this has to be the most awkward dinner since dinner was invented.”
“Right? Who do you think invented dinner?” I need to know. “Cavemen. Jesus, give me a hard one, why don’t you?”
“Wow, you need to stop saying things.”
“Don’t I know it. My parents think I’m a fruit loop like you are.” This worries me. “Are you?”
He thinks for a moment. “No,” he says finally. “I just wish….”
“Like I’m your fag hag?”
I look at him adoringly. “I love you,” I gush.
“Hey, remember when you didn’t know that you wanted Otter to spray his man babies all over your face and we didn’t have to talk about our feelings all the time?”
“Yeah, those were the good old days. So, Anna?”
“Shit, I thought you’d forgotten.”
“Bitch, please.”
I raise my voice. “Kid, what does colloquialisms mean?”
“Of or relating to conversation. Are you guys done yet? This is the weirdest thing I have ever seen. My therapist is going to have his job cut out for him.”
“Therapist?” Creed asks me.
“Never mind. You’re the one who said ‘oh, snap’ earlier.” “Oh yeah.”
“So, Anna?”
“You’ll know when I know, okay?”
“Okay. Peek over my shoulder. What is Otter doing?”
“Okay, hold on. Oh, fuck.”
“What!”
“You know that clenched jaw thing he does when he’s really pissed?” “Yeah.”
“He’s way past that.”
“Oh, hell. Time to let go.”
“Okay. And, Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you too.”
“Let me go, you wannabe gay-mo.”
He does, but that’s okay.
“And the record for the longest hug in history goes to Bear and Creed,” the Kid intones. “Congratulations. You have just made this the most uncomfortable moment of my life.”
“Wait until you hit puberty,” Creed says cheerfully as he goes to sit back down. “Between acne and hair in weird places, you’ll see what it really means to be uncomfortable.”
“What?” I ask Otter as I sit wobbly back in my chair. Fun. The room is starting to spin a bit. That should make the dinner even better. “You and me,” he hisses in my ear, “we’re going to have a long chat later about who you belong to. You get me?”Oh.
Oh, boy, do I.