5. Where Bear Faces the Reality of Attraction
I start school tomorrow. I don’t want to go. Tyson starts school the day after. I don’t want him to go. We go to our first therapy appointment the day after that, and I really don’t want to go. Add on the fact that the Kid’s “best friend” watched his mother die in front of him, that I don’t know what is up with my own mother, that I still don’t understand the jealousy kick I’ve been unable to forget from seeing Otter and David gaze into each other’s eyes (like it meant something), and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again.
And here I thought things would be easier.I roll toward Otter, who’s spread out, his arms and legs all akimbo, as he’s prone to do. He told me once that he spreads out like that in his sleep to make sure I know he’s there, that I can’t get away from him. More often than not, I’ll wake in the morning to find some part of myself covered by Otter. I told him he needs to learn to stay over on his side of the bed, that I most certainly did not appreciate being covered by some big oaf every night. He’d just grinned at me, not fooled in the slightest. He doesn’t fall for my shit, that one.
His breathing is deep and soft, an occasional rumble emanating from his chest. His hair is getting longer, falling down onto his forehead. I reach up and gently brush it off, and he sighs quietly in his sleep, rolling on his side to face me, a massive thigh stretching out on top of my legs, pinning me to the bed. It’s safe, this is. The weight of him pressing against me, like he knows what I’m thinking, even though he’s asleep. Like he knows some part of me still wants to run and he won’t let me, because he’s my tether, my strength.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. But when is that any different?I learned that it’s almost impossible to shut off my brain, those little voices in my head always chattering, saying this and that, those things I don’t dare think on my own. The only solace in these late nights has been him, the man next to me. I don’t know how I ever slept alone, how I ever thought I could sleep through the night with Anna. It’s different here, with him. He’s bigger than me, so much bigger, and I always know he’s there, his presence, the heat of him always falling on me in gentle waves, like low tide in the dark.
The ocean. The storms. The earthquakes. Sometimes I feel that they remain, just beyond my grasp. Haven’t there been moments when I still feel tremors? Hear the thunder just off in the distance, making itself known, but always keeping its distance. Whenever I think they could return, that a storm could wage over the dry desert and the sea would rise through the cracks, I turn to him. And somehow, he keeps them all at bay. He makes me think that maybe it’ll all be okay, even if it’s not.
I watch him as he sleeps, and somehow he knows, like he always does, like he’s just waiting for me to want him to wake up, that he can hear my thoughts, remembering how it’s magic, it’s magic, it’s so much magic, and I can’t hold it on my own. He takes in a deep breath and cracks open his left eye and finds me staring at him. That crooked grin makes a sleepy appearance, and he drops a heavy arm over me and puts his hand flat against my back, pulling me toward him. I bury myself in my spot in the hollow of his throat. The skin is warm there, faint stubble scratching wonderfully against my cheek as I rub my face against him, wanting his smell on my skin. He makes this sound from the back of his throat, a contended rumble that makes it sound as if everything he could ever want is right within his reach. I shiver a bit, and he squeezes me tighter.
“What time is it?” he asks, his voice rough.
“Three. Why did you wake up?” I ask him as I bite his neck. “Felt like I should,” he says as he yawns. His hand goes to my hair and
starts pulling on it softly. “You sleep yet?”
I shrug.
“Nervous about school tomorrow?”
I shrug again, only because that’s part of it.
“It’s pretty much everything, huh?”
I nod.
I think hard for a moment and open my mouth to say it’s a combination of everything, maybe the Dominic situation a little bit more than others, but my mouth has other plans: “I didn’t like the way Ty’s teacher looked at you,” I growl, wincing as I do so. “He touched you like he owned you, and that pissed me the hell off.”
Damn right , it snaps. Who the fuck did he think he was? I don’t know why you didn’t break his fingers off. Oh, wait, you tried. Maybe it’s time to hit the gym again, huh?
Shut up.Otter sighs. “Been thinking about that, huh? I wondered why you hadn’t brought it up yet.”
“Maybe I was waiting for you to do it.”
He tugs on my hair a bit harder. “I thought we were going to get better at this whole ‘talking to each other’ thing.”
“Talking about it now, right?”
He gives me that one, but adds the caveat: “Well, yes, but only after you’ve probably stewed on it and made it worse in your head, Bear. You forget you can’t bullshit me. I know you.”
And he does, but whatever. That’s not the point. “Did you love him?” I ask him, not wanting an answer, because if he says yes, that means he loved him and Jonah before he ever got to me, even if he says he loved me then, as well, maybe above all the rest. I don’t like to share what’s mine with anyone. If he says that he loved them while loving me, then what’s to say he couldn’t love someone else in the future while still loving me? It’s bullshit and I know it, but it’s still there, growing like a burnt tree in my mind, taking root, the tendrils lodging themselves in my brain. It’s bullshit.
Right?
Otter pulls away, and I feel cold arc up my spine like frozen fire. But then he drags me over and sets me down onto his pillow, rolling on top of
me and covering me with his entire body, making it impossible to move, making it impossible for any earthquakes to rip through me. I struggle briefly, but his eyes are on mine, that gold-green bright in the dark, and I try to shield him from whatever he can see there in me, what I’m thinking, but it does no good. I go to turn my head, but he puts his forearms on either side of me, pressed up against my ears, and I can’t move. It feels like I can’t even breathe, even though air is flowing in and out of my lungs and mouth. I can’t look away now, even if I wanted to.
“I told you that it’s always been you,” he says, searching my eyes. “But it’s been others too,” I mutter.
“And you had Anna.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Who says you’re going to lose me at all?” he asks as he shakes me a little bit
“Have you seen the guys you’ve been with?” I grumble. “First Jonah comes in looking all dark and mysterious”—and like an asshole—“and then David Fucking Trent just happened to step out of GQ on his way to work out more to make sure his stupid perfect ass stays perfect?”
He’s almost amused at this, but then he scowls. “Why were you staring at his ass?”
“It was either that or stare at the two of you while you held hands!”
“We weren’t holding hands, idjit. I shook his hand. It’s the polite thing to do. If you’d paid attention, you would have seen that. But why are you getting mad at me? You were the one checking him out. If anyone here has the right to be mad, it should be me. After all, my boyfriend is apparently hot for his brother’s new teacher.”
“I-I wasn’t! I was just—” I sputter at him. “He was there, and you were all like ‘Oh, David, let me hold you’, and I was all like, ‘who’s this asshole?’ Even the Kid noticed!”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh yes, because the Kid isn’t hyperaware of every little thing just like his big brother at all.”
“You haven’t answered the question.”
He sighs. “No, Bear. I didn’t love him. Not in the way that you’re thinking. It was the same with Jonah. I can’t even compare the two to you because it wouldn’t be fair to them.” He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. “Bear, I don’t want anyone else. I won’t. I don’t know how else I can explain that to you. If you need me to tell you every day, I will. If you need me to make sure you know even more than I already do, I can. But….” He stops as he bites his bottom lip, and something crosses his eyes then, almost like a troubled shadow. I’ve seen that look before. I hate that look. That look says that I’ve done something wrong or that Otter is upset or freaked out by something.
“But what?” I ask him.He drops his forehead onto mine, his eyes never leaving my own. “What about you, Bear?”
“What about me?”
“Aren’t you gonna want to… you know… experiment? Like, with other guys? Or whatever? Obviously if you were checking out David, then that means you’re capable of finding other men attractive. That’s different than where you were even just a few weeks ago. Who’s to say you won’t want to see what else is out there?”
I can see the worry in his eyes, but it’s nothing compared to the horror I feel in my own.“Are you out of your goddamned mind?” I say incredulously, because he has to be to ever open his mouth and say something so stupid.
He starts to pull away, freeing my arms. I reach up around his neck and pull him back down on top of me, chest to chest, his heart beating rapidly against mine. “Bear, you don’t know—”
“Oh, I do know, you can trust me on that. No one in their right mind could ever put up with my bullshit like you can. I still don’t know why you do it, but you do. You’re one of the only people in the world who gets me, that allows me to speak even though you know I shouldn’t. Christ, Otter, let’s just say for the sake of argument that I’m… bisexual”—(For the sake of argument? it snickers. Oh please.)—“and that I can find other… guys… attractive. I would never do that. I can’t do that. I won’t.”
Damn him and his logical logic. “I’ll still worry,” I mutter. “It’s not my fault that you have hot exes and everybody in the natural world wants to jump your bones.”
He snorts against my neck and it’s gross, but I love it anyways. “Oh, please,” he scoffs. “What about all the people that check you out? You don’t hear me bitching and moaning about that even though I want to knock them all into next week. You don’t know how hard it is to have that kind of restraint. Just because you haven’t seen me act jealous doesn’t mean I don’t get that way.”
I laugh, a small sound that escapes before I can stop it. “What the hell are you talking about? No one looks at me.”
He raises his head to look into my eyes, apparently trying to find out if I’m being serious or not. And I am. No one looks at me twice, except for maybe Otter, and I’m okay with that. I don’t have time for anything else, not that anyone would be looking. “You’re being serious,” he says, as if not believing it.
“How can you not know? Jesus, Bear. How can you not see it? You… you’re so goddamn beautiful. Like, as in you walk into a room and take my breath away kind of beautiful. There’s times when I feel like I’ve been knocked flat just by seeing your face. How the hell can you not know that? That other people would think the same thing?”
I roll my eyes, even as I begin to blush. “Even though you’re biased, you’re still laying it on kind of thick, don’t you think?”He looks at me like I’m the one spouting crap. “You’re hot, Papa Bear,” he says, as if trying to convince me. “Trust me when I say that. If you’d look around once in a while, you’ll see that plenty of people think so too.”
Oh, gag , it whispers. This Ego Strokefest Palooza is so lame. And yes, Bear, he’s saying that just to make you feel better. You only have to ask yourself if you have an alibi.
Alibi?
U-G-L-Y, you ain’t got no—
Doubtful. He’ll take one look inside your head, and you’ll go straight to a padded room. Do not pass go. Do not collect two—
You’re annoying, for a conscience.
I love you too.
“All the time,” Otter insists. “It pisses me off.”
“Why pissed off? You know I would never….”
His eyes grow shuttered for a moment, the gold-green muted and dark.
“I don’t care about anyone else,” I tell him. “I’m a big boy. I know how to say no.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re still fucking hot,” he says, and I can feel his half-hard length
against my hip.
“Well, even if that’s true—which I highly doubt—all it takes is me
opening my mouth and that whole illusion just dies right there. Literally, it’s
like a black hole, even light can’t help but getting sucked down.” I stop for a moment and think about what I just said as Otter starts to grin. It looks evil and full of teeth. “You took that dirty, didn’t you?”
“Way dirty,” he assures me as he begins to grind his body into mine. “Sex doesn’t solve problems,” I manage to get out as he rubs up and down my body with his, his mouth latching onto my neck.“But it certainly makes things more fun,” he says as he licks his way up to my earlobe, breathing heavily into my ear as his teeth scrape along the shell. “Besides, the problems will still be there tomorrow. And so will I. I’m not going anywhere, Papa Bear. I told you that and I meant it. What do I need to do to prove that to you?” He reaches down between us and grabs my cock and gives it a rough pull. “You can’t possibly think you’re going to get away from me.” He reaches down my shorts and grips my dick, that big paw of his so familiar, so hot. He thumbs over my slit in the way that he knows drives me nuts. I squirm under him. “You even try, and I’ll hunt you down myself.” His voice is still rough, but not with sleep. He lifts up my shirt, his tongue swirling over one nipple and then the other. He allows my arms to go free and my hands go to his hair, holding him, pushing him further. I can’t speak yet, I have no words. I need to hear his voice.
“It doesn’t matter what goes on in that head of yours,” he breathes, trailing his tongue down my stomach, his hand starting to jerk me off, “or what you could possibly be thinking. Just as long as you know this is mine.” He shakes my dick before swirling his tongue over the crown. “And this is mine,” he says as he rises up to kiss my chest, where my heart beats underneath. “And this is mine,” he says before kissing me deeply. I groan into his mouth, trying to go further, suddenly confused when he pulls away, putting his forehead against mine, breathing heavily. His breath is ragged in my face, and I breathe deeply, trying to take him in. The gold-green is flashing in the dark, but it’s almost angry. He’s no longer smiling. “Do you get me?” he asks, that warning tone of his in full force.
I nod, turning my head to the side, trying to avoid that gaze, those knowing eyes.He grabs me by the chin and forces me to look back at him. Before our eyes can collide, I close mine. I get him. I do. I really do. But it’s times like these, times that his voice is sharp with control and hungry with desire, that I almost can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s too strong. And I know it’s exactly what I need. No one gets me like he does, not even the Kid. I don’t know how Otter got so smart or how he’s able to pierce me so, but he can and he does. I don’t know why he chose me, for the life of me, for all the trouble I’ve caused. How can he think this is worth it? I tell him I love him, I tell him how much he means to me, but does he know how much I need him? That without him I would be nothing? I don’t know if he does, or at least not to the full extent in which I think it. And I don’t know if I can tell him that. I’ve always been told you should never speak your wish aloud for it won’t come true, that it’ll go away.
Otter can’t go away. I won’t allow it.
“Bear,” he says from somewhere above me. “Look at me.” I do. I do because he’s everything.
He watches me for a moment, letting go of my chin and reaching up to cup my face. “Do you get me?” he says harshly.
Ah God, I do. I do. I do. And he must see something there because that Otter grin pulls slowly at his lips, and I finally say, “Yes,” and my voice breaks, and he falls on top of me then, his hunger spilling over. His hands are everywhere, and my shirt is torn up over my head, and his mouth is on me in ways that only he knows how, in ways that only he can do. I arch my back as he again finds my dick and the wet heat that envelopes it is so hot so fast that I almost shoot right then. I gasp his name (“Otter,” I say, “Oh, my Otter”) as he swallows me whole, and I marvel at him, this man who seemed to give up everything, his life and job in a place so far away, just to be with me. I need to show him what he means to me, what he does to me. He has to know.
I pull him off my dick and roll him over, straddling his chest, my legs under his arms as his hands stroke my thighs. I reach behind me and shove his shorts down past his knees, feeling his dick spring up and slap against my hand. I stroke it gently while I reach over with my left hand and grab the lube from the nightstand. As I pull my hand back, he captures it in his and kisses each finger gently. Even I notice when he hesitates over the ring finger. But the kiss there lasts the longest. I don’t know what that means.
He takes the lube from my hand (“I like getting you ready,” he told me once, a low blush on his face. “You look hot with my fingers in you”) and he sits up, holding me in his lap, his lips on my neck as he pours the lube onto his fingers and begins to stretch me. I rock my head back as I wrap my arms around his neck, my hands at the back of his head, cradling him against me as he works me open. There’s a brief moment when he leaves my body that I whimper at the loss, but then he enters me again in a swift thrust of his hips, and I cry out softly, his body rolling underneath me, like I’m sitting on top of an incoming tide.
There’s a moment, somewhere deeper into the night, when he’s above me, rocking into me with slow movements, that he sighs, “Bear,” and my name on his lips is like the greatest thing I’ve heard. It’s a single syllable stretched, drawn out like it’s air and he’s breathing it out. His shoulders begin to shudder, and I feel a burst of heat rush through me, and I hear his voice in my head, telling me that he has fought for me, that the fight was all he knew, and I shake beneath him, the earthquake around my heart exploding as I come between us, my hands like claws on his back, my eyes rolling back into my head.
I can’t lose this , I think wildly. I can’t lose him. I won’t survive. I’ll be nothing.
As he collapses on top of me, that weight so comforting, I know that problems have not been solved. I know that there are still issues there, and that they are mostly my own. But there is a moment that none of that matters, that all I care about is his heart against mine, his breath against my neck, his mouth leaving trails of slow kisses around my throat. All that matters is the look in his eyes when he props himself up on his elbow to look down at me, that grin flashing as the weak dawn light starts to glow through the window. He tells me he’s not leaving ever again. He tells me I’m all he’s ever wanted. He tells me he loves me. But I can see something behind his eyes that’s almost like fear, that knowing look that he’s not so successful in covering up, that he believes every single thing he’s said, that while he does not doubt me, he might just doubt himself. Like he thinks he might not be good enough for me.
And that terrifies me.
I stroke his hair, and I tell myself to believe him, if just to ease his mind. It almost works.
We then went online to see if they did make Anderson Cooper backpacks, because the Kid didn’t believe me, stating that a man revered like Anderson Cooper had to have his face on a backpack. Unsurprisingly, such a thing did not exist, at least that we were able to find, and that was by the time we had clicked on the two hundredth Google search page (that was three hours I’m never getting back). The Kid lamented on such an untapped market and immediately set out to write up a business plan for a line of Anderson Cooper products (coasters, coffee mugs, golf balls, ride-on lawn mowers—trust me, it only got weirder from there. Does anyone actually need an Anderson Cooper Crock-Pot?). I told him that was slightly stalkerish and that he should dial it back a little. He told me it was only stalkerish if he went over to his house and went through his sock drawer. And besides, he said, he didn’t even know where the Coopers lived. It probably would be too hard to find, so there was no point in looking. Maybe we could find it on Google?
Turns out his address is unlisted. Darn.So we bought a Transformers backpack instead. The Kid told me I was going to get made fun of. I told him I was going to be the coolest guy in college. He said that apparently the definition of “cool” had changed in the years since I’d last been in school. I told him that rhymed. Otter told us both to knock it off because he was getting a headache. The Kid said, “That’s what she said,” which of course led us on the tangent to verify if he knew what that meant. It turns out he did not, and we were forced to explain what it meant. He had laughed his little head off when he understood and that put the fear of God in me, wondering if we should have kept our mouths shut. Way too many scenarios ran through my head of what I had just armed the Kid with. For example (as read from an inevitable court transcript):
Judge Waldorf: “And you have all the petition paperwork in line?” Attorney Erica Sharp: “Yes, Judge. Everything should be there as you requested.”Judge Waldorf: “It appears it is. Well, let’s not make this harder than it already is.”
Tyson McKenna: “That’s what she said, Judge.”
Judge Waldorf: “What? Custody denied! Send Derrick McKenna to the gas chamber!”
Derrick McKenna: “No! I don’t want to die! I have so much to live for!” Tyson McKenna: “He wouldn’t even get me an Anderson Cooper backpack!”
Judge Waldorf: “The travesty! And what were his reasons?” Derrick McKenna: “They don’t exist! I can’t buy things that don’t exist!”
Tyson McKenna: “It wouldn’t have been that hard to make one! Now I have to do it by myself with my own two hands!”
Judge Waldorf: “That’s what she said.”
Attorney Erica Sharp: “Zing!”
But now I am walking out toward Anna, realizing I am twenty-one years old and wearing a Transformers backpack on my first day of community college. I don’t think it’s that cool anymore, especially when Anna chuckles at me as I sit down next to her.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey, yourself,” I say back.
“Har, har. Don’t be jealous.”
“I don’t think jealous is the right word for what I’m feeling right now.” “Bloated?”
“According to you, I’ve always liked boys. This isn’t something new.” Wow. That’s out before I can stop it.
Who knew you would make things awkward with your ex-girlfriend? it whispers. I’m soooooo surprised! But just think! This could be the first step toward your new relationship with her in which you’ll be BFFs, and you can call her when you want a girls’ night out! You’ll sit around drinking wine coolers and talking about the men in your lives. O… M… G!
Her eyes widen subtly, and the barest smile forms on her face, and it almost reaches her eyes. She did not expect my boldness, no matter how accidental it was. This would not have happened a month ago. I was so wrapped up in my own deceit that busting down that closet door would have been impossible. I remember that sunny afternoon, lying in Otter’s bed before the shit hit the fan, telling him I wanted to tell his brother about us, about me. Anna would have followed that, I’m sure. And knowing now what I know about the two of them, it would not have been a secret for much longer. But there is a difference between pushing and pulling, and even when everything was out in the open, I was still petrified about what they would think. It’s gotten better, but there’s still a ways to go.
“Not boys,” she says quietly. “Otter. There’s a difference. You probably have never even looked at another man.”David Trent, but let’s so not go there. “Is it always going to be weird between us?” I ask her. “Is there always going to be this little strangeness about the two of us?”
She cocks her head at me. “The fact that you left me for a guy or that I’m now sleeping with his brother, your best friend?”I wince. “I really could do without that thought.”
“Really? How do you think I feel? What was it you whispered to Creed that day you told us about you two? You said that it was you that… you know.” She flushes, and this causes my own face to burn.
“Not all the time,” I say, trying to cover it up, distracted by my embarrassment. “Usually, he does me.”Ah, shit.
She coughs, but chokes on the air rushing out of her mouth and starts hacking up a lung. I slap her on the back a few times as she bends over and puts her head between her knees, looking around to make sure nobody’s watching my dying ex-girlfriend, or myself, an apparent bottom bitch with a Transformers backpack. No one seems to notice us, which is great because I think Anna might actually hork up a lung, something I really don’t want to see. Either she’s overreacting or I just overshared. It’s not really hard to think about which one is right.
“I just made this worse, didn’t I?”“I could have died happily not knowing… certain things,” she agrees. “That’s an image that will never go away. Ever. It’s kind of up there with the thought that my new boyfriend wishes he could sleep with my old boyfriend.”
Ouch. For the both of us. “I had nothing to do with that,” I say quickly. “You know that, right? I would never do anything with Creed. Otter would kick my ass.”
She arches an eyebrow. “And that’s the only reason?”
“And it’d be gross,” I add hastily.
“So you’re saying I have bad taste, then.”
“Oh, so now he’s hot, is he? Are you going to try and take him away from me? Can’t just let me be happy, can you? Maybe do the whole brothers thing Mrs. Paquinn was talking about?”
I start to sweat. “Jesus Christ, what the hell are you talking about?”Anna bursts out laughing, a bright sound that’s loud and raucous. She’s always laughed big, and my heart flutters in my chest a bit, more at a memory than anything else. It’s nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake, because I haven’t heard her laugh like this in the longest time. That door is shut, but I can’t help but to jiggle the handle a bit, just to make sure. “I’m just messing with you,” she says with a giggle, wiping her eyes. “It’s so easy to do now, I just couldn’t resist.”
“Yeah, well, try harder in the future,” I mutter.
“What’s your first class? I’ll show you where it’s at.”
I mumble something.
“Sorry? Didn’t catch that.”
I clear my throat. “Psych 101.”
She bursts out laughing again. I swear to God she’s projecting.
I knew going back to school was a big thing, but I guess I couldn’t remember just how much I hated it sitting in a desk, listening to someone drone on and on and on about something that I really don’t care about. I would probably consider walking out if I didn’t have the Kid’s voice in my head admonishing me for being a college dropout after only attending one class. You know I’d never hear the end of it.
I look around, studying the people in the room with me. I feel much more at ease when I see that it’s a mixture of younger and older, knowing I’m not sticking out like a sore thumb at the ripe old age of twenty-one. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked in today, whether everyone in the class would be fresh out of high school, but half the class is older than I am. There’s someone that looks like he is around Mrs. Paquinn’s age. Retirement must suck if he’s enrolled in a community college class.
I’m about to turn back to the front of the class when my eyes stutter across a guy one desk forward and two desks over who glances back at me, a small smile on his face. He’s about my size, which makes him smaller than most, but bulked up, which makes me want to flex my arms to assert my male dominance. Somehow, I’m able to resist the urge. He’s older than me, I think, maybe by a couple of years. His black hair is all over the place, in that intentionally messy way that I could never pull off. Thick eyebrows, dark eyes. White teeth that flash at me. His Henley shirt is stretched across his broad shoulders and clings to his chest. His cargo shorts look worn and comfortable. White shell-top shoes, no socks. His skin is tanned, a rarity in Seafare. I wonder if it’s his natural color. Black leg hairs look thick and soft. His calves are well defined, the muscles cut and solid. And then there’s—
Whoa. What the hell am I doing?I turn away from him, feeling my face heat up, knowing he’s still watching me by the boring sensation that’s on the side of my head. Was I checking him out? I feel a dawning horror as the answer to that question rings throughout my head, saying yes, yes, and I don’t know what it means.
You can’t be gay for one person, Bear, Otter had said to me once. It’s not how biology works.Fuck me sideways. First David Trent, now this dude. I totally don’t need this right now. I’ve never been one to check people out, not even when I was with Anna, and I’m not going to start. I don’t know what that would lead to, what kind of person I could potentially become, so it’s easier to curb it before it starts. I have what I want. I don’t need anything else.
I steal a glance over at the guy. He catches my eye again and grins. He has dimples. Shit. Apparently I like dimples. Abort! Abort!Wow, from heterosexual male to homosexual whore in four months , it says. That’s got to be some kind of land speed record. Give it another three months, and you’ll probably be a butterfly. And you were getting all pissed off at Otter for shaking David’s hand, and here you are blushing like a schoolgirl over dimples. For shame. Could you be any more obvious?
It’s right and I hate it. I know I can be a hypocrite with the best of them, especially given my jealousy over Otter’s parade of exes, which still makes me burn with anger. And it’s not that I focus on it, but Otter’s voice comes back into my head, telling me of course people check me out, why haven’t I noticed? I haven’t noticed because I didn’t have time to notice. I didn’t care if people noticed. I didn’t want to be noticed. I still don’t. I would have no problem passing through life in my little corner of the world, content with what I have. I don’t need anyone to check me out. I have Otter. I only care what he thinks. I don’t care what anyone else thinks of me. I don’t.
Class is over before I can even register that time has passed. People start shuffling their way out through the door. I shove my books back into my backpack and am about to stand to leave when he stands in front of my desk.
“Transformers, huh?” he says, his voice deep. “That’s… different.” “Long story,” I mutter, standing and walking toward the door. He falls in behind me. “So, what is it?”
“What’s what?”
“The story? Anybody that carries that around and says there’s a story can’t just walk away without explaining it first.” He walks quickly around me as I leave the classroom, standing in front of me, forcing me to stop. I almost collide with him, my arms brushing against his. He smells like spicy apples. Cider. Sharp. My eyes collide with his. They’re dark. Almost black. Way too close. I take a step back.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Bear,” I say, looking everywhere but at him.
“That’s unusual.”
“Long story.”
“You seem to have a lot of those.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. “I guess.”
He reaches out and grabs my hand and shakes it. His palm is warm, his hands feel rough, and I try not to notice the way his fingernails scrape against my skin as he grips tightly. “I’m Isaiah.”
It’s official: God does hate me. Jonah. David. Isaiah. He’s put these men on Earth specifically to fuck with me, to mess up my head. I try to remember who Isaiah was in the Bible. A prophet, maybe. But then, weren’t they all a prophet of some kind? It doesn’t matter how biblical it is, I guess. What matters is he’s still shaking my hand, even though we stopped shaking a while ago, and now we’re just holding hands, and he’s watching me, waiting for me to say something, to do something.
What should I do? Congratulate him on his name? Tell him I’ve got to go? Run in the opposite direction?Or you could tell him thanks, but no thanks, it points out. You could open your mouth and say, “I know what that look in your eye means, and I’m flattered, but I’m seeing someone. Well, more than seeing someone. I live with someone. I love someone. He is the best thing to have happened to me in my short and somewhat miserably eventful life.” Speak up, Bear; you’re embarrassing yourself.
“Nice to meet you,” I manage to get out, pulling my hand free. Oh, Bear.
Isaiah flashes another smile at me before folding his arms across his chest. I try not to notice how the muscles in his arms bunch against his shirtsleeves. I almost win that one. “So, Bear and Transformers. Long stories. Pick one and go.”
“My little brother,” I explain. And then stop.
He cocks his head at me. “Your little brother….”
“I see,” Isaiah says, so clearly obviously not seeing.
But I don’t want to explain further. It feels wrong. Suddenly, I want nothing more than to see Otter, to hear his voice. Even though it’s only been a couple of hours, it feels like days and weeks since I’ve seen him last. Years. We’d made a cocoon this past summer, wrapping ourselves up while we clashed and fought and loved and lost. But we couldn’t stay away from the real world forever, from the future becoming the present. I don’t think I care, though. All I want right now is to have his arms around me, my forehead against his chest, his chin on the top of my head, those big hands of his rubbing my back slowly, telling me that it’s going to be okay, that everything is going to be just fine.
“What’s that fear that people have of going outside?” I ask Isaiah, because I can’t remember what it is. If the Kid was here, I’d ask him, but he’s not with me, either. This starts to bum me out even more, and I think it’s possible I’ve gone way past codependency to a place far scarier. I suck like that.
“Agoraphobia?” Isaiah says.
“That’s right,” I say excitedly. “I can never remember that!”
“You’re a sort of… strange, aren’t you?” he asks me, taking a step closer. I smell the spicy apples again, and it reminds me of Halloween. I don’t know why my mind makes that connection.
“Sometimes,” I tell him, trying to take a step back. “I try not to make it a habit, or anything.” My back hits a wall. People are walking by, not even caring what’s happening to me. I want to call out for help, to make them stop my own stupidity, but I can’t. It doesn’t come out.
“I like strange,” he assures me as his knees bump into mine. I can’t help but think that since we’re roughly the same height, our groins aligned with each other’s. Otter’s so much bigger than me. That doesn’t happen with him. “And I like the way you were looking at me in there.”
“How was I looking at you?” I ask, honestly curious.“Like you saw something you liked,” he says confidently, “but were too shy to ask for it.”
“So you think I’m shy and strange?” I ask, wondering if I should run or stay right where I am. “And that’s why you’re talking to me? I don’t think that’s flattering. For either of us.”
Us. We. You and I.He laughs, and it’s deep and masculine, a low rumble that crawls out from his chest. “I like you, Bear,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. He moves forward just another inch, but it’s enough that the front of his shorts brush against the button fly on my jeans. “What’s your next class?”
“Writing 101,” I think I say. “Core classes, you know. Just going back to school.”“And how old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” I say, even though I want to tell him it’s none of his business and won’t he please, oh please just step back?
“I’m twenty-two,” he says, dropping his voice even lower. He brushes against my front again. “You’re kind of pretty, you know that?” I think of things like dead kittens and maggots because I can feel my blood rushing south, and I’m horrified, almost awestruck, that someone aside from Otter can get this reaction from me, that someone besides him can break me open. David Trent started it. Isaiah Whoever is continuing it. Pandora’s Box is open, and I don’t know how to close it again.
“That’s… neat,” I tell him, swallowing past the lump in my throat. Then I’m saved (caught?) when I hear a voice call out, “Bear? What are you doing?”Anna. Oh, thank Jesus for my ex-girlfriend.
Isaiah takes a step back, a look of annoyance crossing his face before it disappears. I don’t feel annoyed. I feel relieved. My heart is beating in my chest, and I’m sick to my stomach. I take in a gasping breath, and it smells like the ocean again, not like apples and cider and fall and pumpkins and whatever else I’m frantically thinking about. It helps to clear the fog from my head, even though I feel the ground trembling beneath me, like an aftershock to an earthquake I don’t remember. I slump against the wall as Anna walks over to me, glaring at Isaiah.
“What’s up, Bear?” she asks. “You okay?”
I nod.
She doesn’t look like she believes me. “Who are you?” she asks Isaiah, her bitch voice out in full. I’ve been on the receiving end of that tone quite a few times, and I know exactly what it means. She’s pissed. I don’t know why.
“Isaiah Serna,” he says, not offering his hand. “And you are?” “Anna, and I don’t like it when I come around a corner to see someone crowding my friend. There’s a thing called personal space. Learn it. Use it.” Isaiah’s eyes narrow. “What are you, his mother?”“No,” she snaps at him. “I stuck around.” This confuses him, but it causes me to feel like a tear or two might just leak out if I let it. I don’t, so none do.
“Long story,” I say to his confusion.“Seems like everything is with you,” he says, finding his grin again, putting a little leer behind it. “She your girlfriend?”
Before I can speak, Anna interrupts. “Used to be,” she says coldly, moving in front of me almost imperceptibly. She’s subtle, but I notice it. “Now I’m dating Bear’s boyfriend’s brother. Who happens to also be Bear’s best friend. And both are hell of a lot bigger than you. So I suggest you back off, Isaiah.”
“Anna,” I sigh, feeling like my penis has grown into a great gaping vagina. “Maybe you could rein it in. Just a bit? I can speak for myself, you know.”
Yeah, ’cause you were so quick to speak up earlier? it mocks. What’s that one guy’s name again? The one who is your heart and soul? Octavius? Othello? Bah. I can’t be bothered to remember, either. How interesting, your hypocrisy.
Don’t I know it.“Boyfriend?” Isaiah asks, a look of surprise disappearing from his face before I can even be sure it was there.
“Boyfriend,” Anna confirms. “Partner. Love of his life.”
“He’s really pretty neat,” I agree. “Kind of my first… everything.” “And your last,” Anna says sharply.
So true. I hope.
And of course, I sputter. “What… you… I would never….” Anna frowns. “Really?” she asks. “That’s… peculiar.”
“Hey, I’m standing right here,” Isaiah says, insulted.
“It’s not you,” Anna reassures him, even though I know that tone of voice of hers, the one that says she doesn’t give a crap. Isaiah doesn’t know it, but Anna’s just humoring him. “Bear has only had eyes for Otter for as long as I’ve known him.”
“What?”She flips her hair in that way she does so well. “Oh, please, Papa Bear. Don’t even try and spin that one out. You know that as well as I do.” “Well, yeah, I guess. You and I just haven’t said it out loud. You know. To each other.”
Her eyes widen. “Holy shit, did you just admit to that?”
I shrug. Only because I don’t know what else to say. It’s something I’ve thought on long and hard over the past few months, and regardless of my actions, regardless of what I might have said in the past, I’ve come to that same conclusion, that some part of me, whether I knew it or not, always wanted Otter. Intellectually. Mentally. Physically. Growing up, he was the one I looked up to, the one whose face I couldn’t wait to see. He was the cool older brother who could do no wrong. He was the one I turned to when everything went to hell. My mother might have broken me when she left, but Otter destroyed me when he ran. I’m not fooled by the difference. I know what it means. That is one thing I’m not confused about. The rest… well, the rest I don’t know. I’m weirded out by how I seem to be noticing other guys, and that the feeling is growing exponentially beyond my control. It’s not right. It shouldn’t happen.
“What’s with that look?” I hear Isaiah ask.
“That’s his thinking face,” Anna replies.
“Oh.”
“I need to call Otter,” I tell them. I feel weird. I need to hear his voice.
I start to tell him the story for some reason, but I get cut off. “Bear and Otter,” Anna agrees. “How about you and I walk away and let Bear use the phone? Or better yet, how about you walk away. Forever.”
“Anna,” I scold. “Don’t be rude. Isaiah’s… nice.”Nice? it laughs. That’s one way to put it. If by nice you mean he gets your dick moving, then yes, Bear. He’s nice.
“See?” Isaiah says. “I’m nice.” He gives her his nicest smile, full of white teeth and dimples, and I look away. He’s very nice.
“I know nice people like you. Just because Bear’s naïve doesn’t mean everyone else in his life is.”
“Hey, I’m not naïve—”
“You know what’s fun?” Isaiah asks. “When you meet someone for the first time and they turn out to be bitchy. I love that.”
Uh-oh.
Anna’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“You will because we’ve got the same class,” he says, grinning at me, causing fluttering in my stomach. “Which starts in fifteen minutes. I’ll save you a seat.” He winks at me and then turns on his heel and walks in the opposite direction. I stop myself before I check out his ass.
“What in the hell was that about?” Anna snaps at me as we round the corner. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”“Since when did you start thinking I needed your help?” I ask irritably.
She looks aghast. “Um, maybe around the time I saw some stranger pressing you against the wall while he rubbed up on you? Bear, I know you. I know even you’re not that stupid. You mind telling me what’s going on?”
I rub my hands over my face. “Fuck. I don’t know!”She opens her mouth but seems to change her mind. But then she says it: “You and Otter aren’t having… problems. Right?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t know. He seems to think that I’ll get sick of him and will want to see what else is out there. You know… with guys. And then there’s the fact that everyone he’s ever been with besides me looks like they should be running in slow motion on the beach somewhere.”
She snorts. “Do you?”
“Run slow motion on the beach? Of course not!”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you want to see what else is out there?” Panic claws at my stomach. “No!”
“So, what, you’re gay now?” She almost looks hurt.
Oh, so now you believe that. Hilarious.
“So you’re feeling insecure because of Otter’s exes—”
“I’m not insecure—”
“—and because they’re all hot or whatever—”
“Like they should be in porn—”
“—and Otter has doubts—”
“He does not—”
“Proving true? Now wait just a damn minute—”
“I mean, what kind of name is Isaiah? Your new boyfriend sounds like a tool—”
“I don’t even know him—”
“And you’ve got the greatest man waiting for you at home—” “I know!”
She glares at me. “Do you want to fuck other guys or not?” “I don’t know,” I say honestly, after a time. “I don’t think so.” “And is that because of Otter’s past or your own?”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
“I can’t lose him, Anna,” I say. I sound desperate.
“Then it’s pretty simple: don’t. I’m late for my next class. I gotta go.” She starts to walk away. “Call him, Bear,” she calls over her shoulder. “Don’t be an idiot and let this get away from you like you normally do. Otter deserves better than that. Finish it now before you don’t have control over it anymore.”
I’m dialing even before she stops speaking. “Hey,” Otter says as he picks up the phone. “How was your first class?”“Some guy hit on me and pressed me up against a wall, and I needed to hear your voice,” I say.
Silence. Then, “You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hurt you?” He’s angry.
He laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he finds it funny. “I told you. You didn’t believe me.”
“Anna saved me from Isaiah,” I grumble.
“Oh. Is that his name?”
“Yeah.” I chew on my bottom lip.
“Did you want to be saved?” He sounds hesitant.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“That’s not answering the question.”
“That’s always pissed you off. And you’re still not answering the question, Bear.”
“Fuck you, Otter.” I hang up on him.
And I call him right back. “You know that shit doesn’t fly with me,” he growls as he answers.
“I know,” I say quietly. “Are you going to break up with me?” Christ, I hate how I sound, but I can’t stop it.
He laughs again, and it sounds a bit better. “No. Honey, why would you ever think that?”
He’s never called me that before. We’re not one for endearments, he and I, and my eyes begin to burn. “I don’t know,” I manage to choke out. He hears it. He hears everything. “How long till you need to get to class?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Good. I’m going to tell you something, okay? And I want you to listen. No talking, no interrupting, just listen. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“One day, a long time ago, I was sixteen years old. It was a normal stupid day. I was sitting on the couch, playing video games, when I heard the doorbell ring. I knew that my brother’s friend was coming over, so I yelled for him, but he didn’t hear me. The doorbell rang again, and I got up and answered it. There was this scrawny little guy waiting on the other side, and he looked like he was terrified, and I didn’t know why. I told him my name and he squeaked a bit, and then Creed came crashing down the stairs, and the little guy was gone with him. It wasn’t till later that night that I saw him again, at the dinner table, and that was when he named me. He didn’t say it to my face, and it actually came from Creed, but he named me nonetheless. I was Otter from then on.”
I know this, I know all of this. But why does it feel so different hearing it from him? Why don’t I want him to stop?“I watched you grow up,” he says, his voice soft. “I watched everything you knew come crashing down around you. I was a cause of part of that, only because I knew I loved you, even then. I was gone, but you were not forgotten. I came back and found you to be stronger than anyone had any right to be. A bit cold, maybe, but strong. I didn’t think that you could feel for me like I did for you, even if part of me knew you did. It was not something I thought on often, because it made my head hurt, that knowing. And then I would see you with Anna. I hated her, at least partly, for having what I wanted. What I thought was mine. And you hated me for coming back, and don’t try to say you didn’t. I know you, Bear. I know what you think, what’s in your heart.”
He speaks truth. I did hate him, and for however brief it might have been, it had still been there, glassy and sharp, all-consuming. He was my mother, his actions the same, but so much more. I never expected much from her. I had expected everything from him.
“But something happened. I don’t know when. I don’t know if it was that first kiss before I left, or the first time you lay against my chest that…. Something shifted in you, and it brought you to me. I wanted it, I wished and prayed for it, but I never meant for it to happen. I didn’t want to cause more pain than I had already done. I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. But I couldn’t say no to you. I can’t say no to you. I’ve never been able to. That’s why I ran. It’s why I came back. You might not believe all of this, just like you might not believe yourself, but I came back for you. Even though I told myself that wasn’t the case, I knew it. I came back for you, and I promised myself I was never going to let you go again.”
He sighs. “All I want is to grow old with you and know that one day, it’ll just be you and me, and we’ll be able to look back and be proud of what we’ve done with our lives. I want to know that you belong to me and I belong to you. I love you with everything I have, and I can promise you that I’ll never stop. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.
“It won’t be perfect, Bear; nothing ever really is. There will be days when we’re angry with each other, and days where it seems like the world is a fucking messed-up place, but it won’t matter. Because I’ll have you and the Kid, and you’ll both have me. So whatever this is….” He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before he plows through the rest. I wish he wouldn’t, because I know what’s coming. “If you feel you need to sleep with someone else, then tell me. I can be there with you when it happens or you can do it on your own. I would wait for you. To… get this out of your system or whatever. And if it does, then we can move on. If it doesn’t… well, if it doesn’t we can deal with it then. But I won’t hold you back, Bear. Not ever.”
“Shut up,” I say hoarsely. “You just stop it.”
“Bear,” he warns. “You can’t just—”
“No, you listen to me! You can’t tell me you want me and then say you’d allow me to fuck around, Otter! It’s not fair. I don’t want to, and it’s bullshit for you to say so! You can’t mean that.”
“If it’s what you need to do to stay with me,” he snarls, “then yes, I mean every fucking word! You’ve been with two people your entire life, Bear. You won’t know unless you see it for yourself.”
“Is that it? That’s your only reason? You sure it’s not because you want to fuck around? Offering a three-way so you can get in on it? Telling me to go fuck someone else so you can do the same?”
He sounds shocked and angry. “Hell no. How could you even think that?”“Then don’t give me that bullshit!” I shout at him, not caring who’s listening to me. I’m terrified now, more than I’ve been in a while. He couldn’t have meant all that he just said. He couldn’t have, because the idea of anyone other than me touching him drives me up the fucking wall. I want to break things. “It’s like you want me to walk all over you. Tell me what you really want!”
“What I really want?” he says harshly. “You want to know what I really want? I don’t want anyone to put their fucking hands on you ever again. I want to get in my car right now and come to the school and find the fucking guy who thinks he can touch you, that he can even breathe the same air as what’s mine. I want to hurt him, snap his fingers, kick him in the face until he bleeds. I want you to know that you only belong to me and no one else. I don’t want you to fuck around. I don’t want to be there if you do because I’ll end up killing the person that touches your cock. It’s mine, you’re mine. This has made me sick thinking about this, knowing what I would need to do in order to keep you, that I would have to let you go out on your own before you’d be completely happy with me and—”
“That’s what you think of me?” I snap at him. “You think it’s only a matter of time before I fucking cheat on you? Jesus, Otter, you’re making me sound like an asshole, and I haven’t even done anything!”
“But you’ll want to!” he shouts at me. “How the fuck can you know what you want? You’re just a kid!”“Just a kid? Fuck you, Otter. Where the hell is this coming from? You just told me you loved me and that you didn’t want anyone else to touch me, but now I’m stupid? I’m just a kid? Fuck you! I’ve been through more shit than you’ve ever been. You think it was hard for you in San Diego? Oh poor you, being rich and having a fucking boyfriend and living life how you wanted to. Poor fucking Otter couldn’t stop thinking about some kid back home that he left behind, that he felt guilty over. Don’t call me a kid, Otter, when I’ve seen more than a person should ever have to see, done more than a person should ever have to do. I’ve given up everything for my life to be the way it is. To protect myself. To protect the Kid. You’ve given up nothing.”
He starts to backtrack. I can hear it in his voice. “Bear, I—” “Is that really all you think of me? I thought we’d done more, that we’d been through more, meant more to each other than this. I know you think I’m young, and I know you think I haven’t seen what else is out there. Maybe one day I’ll want to. I don’t know. But I don’t want to now. Now, all I want is you. I was scared today, and what did I do? I called you. That’s how it’s always been. Whenever everything got to be too much, whenever I feel like everything is crashing down on me, I turn to you. You’re the one who keeps me safe, keeps me sane. At least I thought you did. Now? Now I find out you don’t trust me? That you want me to go fuck around to get it out of my system? Who the hell do you think you are?”
I can’t believe the words that are pouring out of my mouth, the way I’m trying to cut him, trying to make him burn. My heart is thundering in my chest, sweat is dripping down my face, but I can’t stop. I feel like I’m suffocating, like I’m drowning, but I need him to hear me, to stop this terror in my head and heart.
“I don’t think—” he tries again, sounding upset.“That’s your problem, isn’t it? You don’t think. You just do. You see something you want, and you go for it. David. Jonah. Me. And you’ve got me, Otter. You’ve got me more than you could know and yet you’re pushing me away! Don’t you get that I love you? That I need you? You tell me the same, but right now, I don’t know what to think. What to believe. I’ve given you everything. Can’t you see that? Yes, I’ve thought about it. Yes, I don’t know what it would mean for it to be you and me for the rest of our lives, but goddammit, I want to try, Otter. I want to prove to myself that we can make it. I don’t need anyone else. I know that. I know that. I need you. That’s all I’ve ever needed. Don’t make that harder than it already is.” Only now can I stop and suck in air like I suddenly learned to breathe. I feel feverish and shaky, my hand like a vise grip around my phone. I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered. I feel guilt like hot oil sloshing around in my stomach, almost forcing me to gag and clutch my arms around me.
Jesus. This can’t be it. It can’t end over something so fucking ridiculous.Ah, but maybe that’s the problem, it replies. Maybe the problem is that you think it’s so ridiculous. You think you’re freaked out? You think you’re scared? How must this be for him? Yes, there’s been a David. A Jonah. Maybe there’s been a Judas and a Pontius Pilate as well; you might never know. But again, once again, you’ve somehow made this about you and only you. That self-righteous anger is so easy to fall back on, isn’t it? What was it you said one time? It’s one of my favorite Bear-isms: it’s so much easier to hate them when they leave. Is that what you want? Because that’s what will happen. Back off. Back away.
But he—
“I love you, Bear,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “But I don’t know if that’ll be enough for you.”
My breath hitches in my chest. “Otter—”
“I gotta go. I’ll see you at home later.”
And then he’s gone.
But Isaiah is standing there, waiting for me to drag my feet toward the door, my mind a million miles away, wondering just how in the fuck I messed up so bad, trying to think of ways to get Otter to talk to me. I texted him three times during the past ninety minutes, but haven’t gotten a response. He always responds. Which means either his phone is off or he’s ignoring me. Either way, it fucking sucks.
You know what I hate? Having epiphanies after the fact. You know what I’m talking about. When you’ve fought and cut and screamed and bit and walked away to lick your wounds, only to come to a realization that you should’ve come to before all the stupidity that you seem to bask in. I hate hindsight because it’s brutal and glaring, and that feeling of “what I should have done” is so obvious that it feels like acid on my skin.
My epiphany? I don’t need to fuck around with anyone else. Everyone looks. That doesn’t mean everyone has to touch. I don’t need anyone else. The thought of anyone other than Otter makes me sick to my stomach. So fucking what if Isaiah can get a rise out of me? It’s human nature. He’s hot. He affects my dick. He doesn’t affect my heart. Even if I were to give him half a chance, there’s no way he could ever be to me what Otter is. There’s no way he could ever be the man that I’ve loved since I was a kid. I can say that now, however hard it is for me to do so. I can say it now because it’s true. I don’t need anyone like I need Otter. Without him, I’d be lost.
“You okay?” Isaiah asks. “You looked like shit when you walked into class.”“I’m fine,” I say. And I think I might mean it. “Didn’t have the greatest phone call before I came in, but I’m going to fix it.”
“With Seal?”
I roll my eyes. “Otter, but you knew that already.”
He grins as he follows me as I start to make my way to the parking lot. I’ve got to get home to check on Ty before I have to go to work. I’m tempted to call in sick and drive directly to the studio and make sure Otter never forgets who I am and what he means to me, but I know he needs his space for the moment, to think things through. He’ll be home tonight. I’ll make him listen.
“Yeah, well, it’s ridiculous no matter how it sounds,” Isaiah says. “But, seriously, you okay?”“Yeah. We fought about stupid—wait, why do you even care?”
He grins at me, and those dimples flash, but they’re muted now in my eyes. He waggles his eyebrows and says, “Thought maybe I could catch you on the rebound. Can’t blame me for trying.”
I can’t stop the bark of laughter that escapes. “No, I guess I can’t. Look, I’m sorry Anna was rude. She’s not normally like that.”He waves his hand in easy dismissal. “She was just watching out for you, I get that. I can come on a little strong.” He shrugs. “It probably wouldn’t have worked out between us, anyways.”
“How you figure?” I ask, honestly curious.“I’m not named Beaver or Llama or something totally cool like you two are,” he says as he rolls his eyes. “People named Bear and Otter deserve to be together.”
“Yeah?” I say as I glance at him.“Oh, Jesus, do you give him those eyes too?” he groans, looking like he’s totally serious. “Christ, but he must jump your bones.”
“Shut up.”
He grabs me by the arm and stops me. “Look, Bear, I don’t have time for bullshit. I never have, and I never will. If you’ve been through what I’ve been through, then you’d know that’s true. If I tell you something, I mean it.”
“Uh, thanks. I guess.” I almost want to ask what he’s been through, but I don’t know why I should care. It’s confusing.Isaiah pulls a pen out of his pocket and grabs my hand, holding it palm up. He starts to write, bent over in concentration, and I can feel his breath on my palm, the subtle stroke of the pen, and I miss Otter even more. When he raises his head, his face is mere inches from my own “That’s my number, okay? You call me if you just want to talk, or whatever. I promise I can keep my hands to myself. Sometimes, it’s better to talk to a stranger than those that are closest to you. I know shit can get rough sometimes, so just let me know if you need to vent.”
I nod, and am about to turn away when he says my name, and I look up, and suddenly his mouth is on mine, a short hard kiss that catches me off guard, and before I can do anything, it’s done and over with. “And,” he says with a glint in his eyes, “if it’s ever over between you and Walrus, you can call me for all kinds of reasons. I’m curious to see if this Bear has claws. See ya on Wednesday.”
“Wednesday?” I choke out as he walks away.
“Class, Bear. We’ve got class,” he says over his shoulder.
Fuck me.
Be home late. Don’t wait up .
Ow.
The Kid noticed something was up but allowed me to dismiss his question after Mrs. Paquinn had left, telling him that Otter would be home when he could. He asked quietly if Otter would be there in the morning before he went to his first day of fifth grade. I told him of course he would be. Otter wouldn’t miss it. He was just as excited for the Kid as I was.
The Kid almost looked like he believed me.After he went to bed, I waited and prowled the house, looking through the windows every few minutes or so, sure that the headlights rolling by would be Otter, that he’d be coming home and that he’d open the door, and his eyes would find mine, and I’d say I was sorry, and he’d say the same, that grin on his face lighting up the gold-green, and I’d make him believe that there was no one else, that there never could be anyone else. That it would be okay because it was just me and him, Bear and Otter, the way it was always supposed to be.
I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And eventually ended up in the bathtub because the earthquakes in my heart got too hard to handle outside of this false haven that was our home. I shivered against the cold porcelain and wondered what would happen if Otter didn’t come back. We would have to move, because I couldn’t afford to live in this house by ourselves. I’d have to get the Kid and pack up as quickly as we could because staying here any longer would do nothing but crack my soul. I needed to figure out what I’d say to Tyson, how I would explain that I’d fucked up yet again, that his older brother was a fucking failure at everything he did. I’d have to make sure I wrapped myself around him so that when he broke apart, the pieces wouldn’t fall too far away, and I’d be able to pick them up like I always did. Even if I had to leave pieces of myself behind.
Always with one foot out the door, it whispered in the dark. Always expect the worse because one day, the worst will come.I lie down in the bathtub, facing away from the door because watching and waiting and hoping for him to walk in is impossible. It’s improbable. He’s not coming in. He’s not coming home. He came to his senses, I think. He probably just sent that text that he was going to be home late, that I shouldn’t wait up because no matter how late it got, it would always be too late. I shiver because I’m cold and because of so much more. I ignore the tear that slides from my eye across my nose because if I don’t, not even the bathtub will stop me from breaking. It’s only then that I fall, and I remember—
better coat i wish i had a warmer coat
—it was summer again because I couldn’t stand the cold, not with a jacket that was three years old and too small now. Mom said we couldn’t get me a new one because the baby needed diapers. She said it was more important than a coat. If I was cold, she said, just wear two pairs of socks and a hat because heat escapes your feet and head. I told her that it was my arms that were cold, not my feet and head. She’d just laughed and said I was funny, and I—
dumb baby the stupid fucking kid ruins everything—looked away, muttering that I wasn’t trying to be funny, that it wasn’t meant to be funny. But she’d laughed, a Marlboro Red dangling from her lips, the smoke a blue-gray fog above her head like a storm cloud.
I came in from outside, rubbing my arms, trying to get the gooseflesh to disappear and the hairs on my arms to lie back down. I wondered if I had gloves, if gloves would even help, and I was stuck on that thought, thinking maybe Otter would have some extra in his closet I could use, I could just call and ask him. He was at school, and I didn’t—
want him to be so far away why did he have to leave me—want to ask his parents or Creed, because I didn’t want to see the look on their faces, that look of pity that I knew they would have. They didn’t mean to do it, and it wasn’t their fault. I just didn’t want it. But if I called Otter, he would tell me if he had some in his room, and maybe a coat, too, that he’d let me borrow, and it would—
smell like him
—be big on me, but that would be okay. It would remind me of him.
I passed the dingy crib and looked down at the baby, who stared back up at me, and when his eyes fixed on my face, he smiled so wide you’d have thought I was the sun coming out on a cloudy day. Tyson gurgled and kicked his legs, cooing and babbling at me like he was talking to me. No one ever understood that reaction, as it only seemed to happen with me. He never did that with Mom. Or her friends, what ones there were. The doctors, the neighbors. The gruff men that came into our apartment with an air of cold indifference. Ty smiled at none of them. But whenever he saw me, for some reason it set him off, and he would laugh and coo and kick his chubby little legs. If I’d walk away without talking to him, he’d squawk in anger until I came back and rubbed my hands across his cheeks, his little hand grabbing onto my fingers, playing with them like they were the greatest thing in his world.
My hands were cold now so I blew into them so the baby wouldn’t freeze. His eyes lit up as I dropped my hand toward him, and I cupped his face, and that smile—
i thought i could hate you but i can’t i won’t—came out again, bright and gummy, little teeth starting to poke through. I stroked his cheeks with my thumbs, and he laughed and laughed and laughed, which caused me to snort because there’s nothing like a kid’s laugh to set your own self off. It’s a free sound, a sound that doesn’t carry the weight of the world. We chuckled as we watched each other, and he tried to stick one of my fingers in his mouth, but I hadn’t washed my hands all day so I shook my head and gently pulled it away, and he yelled at me in the way that only an eight-month-old can, his forehead scrunching up, his nose flaring.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” I told him. “Don’t shout at me.”
He did anyways.
“Derrick, that you?” I heard her call out.
“Yeah. I need to use the phone,” I said, knowing it wouldn’t be that easy. If she said something to me the moment I walked into the door, then that meant she wanted something from me.
“In a minute. Come here. I need to talk to you.”
Shit, I thought.
I walked into the kitchen, ignoring her as she clinked the ice cubes in an almost empty glass of Jack. I went to the fridge. An old block of cheese. Mustard. Beer. Formula. The freezer has a carton of cigarettes. Two ice cube trays, each half-empty.
“I thought you were going to go shopping today,” I sighed, shutting the doors. She said she would, dammit.“I forgot,” she said, finishing off the glass and getting up to pour another. “I’ll leave some money for you on the counter, and you can go later. Just get what you need. Nothing fancy. We’re not like the Thompsons, you know.” She said this last part with a nasty curl of her lip, her opinion of the Thompson family well displayed. I was used to it and able to ignore it by that point. Otter told me it didn’t matter, that as long as I didn’t believe it, as long as I knew what was real, it would all be okay.
“I need you to do me a favor,” she said, and that was when I knew I was fucked. “I need you to watch the baby.”“For how long?”
She looked down at her hands, bringing up the left to chew on the thumb nail. “A couple of days.”
“ What?”
She shrugged. “Joe wants to take me out of town. Just for two days.” “What about school? I can’t take Tyson to school with me!”
“But—”
“Derrick, can’t you see I need this? This whole baby thing has taken a lot out of me. I just need to get away for a couple of days. I’ll come back, and it’ll be right as rain. You’ll see.”
“Where are you going?”
“I told you, out of town.”
“Yeah, but where?”
“I’m not going to watch the stupid baby.”
She laughed, a short harsh bark. “You are because I told you to. I’m leaving—”
A knock on the door. More of a pounding, really. My mother smiled, and for the first time in a long time, it looked real, like she was actually happy, that she was actually smiling because she felt like it. She was getting away and she knew it. It might have only been for a couple of days, but it was two days she felt she needed, that she felt she was owed. I never really saw that smile much.
“That would be Joe,” she said, and only then did I notice the small beatup overnight bag next to her.“You’re leaving now?”
She sighed as she finished off her drink and stood up. She took a wad of bills from her pocket and dropped it on the table, crumpled ones and fives. “Derrick, don’t make a scene. I don’t have time to deal with your bullshit right now.” She took the fives out of the pile of money, leaving fourteen dollars on the table in ones. “That should be enough for a couple of days. There’s diapers in the hall closet, and Tyson’s food is in the cabinet.”
“Wait—”
Pounding on the door again. Harder, angrier. Tyson started to cry.
“Mom, you can’t leave me here alone with him!” I was panicking, my voice coming out high, and it cracked like it was a fragile thing. She’d left me alone before when she’d felt the need to get away, but not since Ty had been born. I thought that was the one good thing about him coming along, that he’d somehow made her stationary, that he’d put roots down for her like I’d never been able to do. I was wrong.
“Derrick, you’re thirteen years old now,” she said over her shoulder, never stopping. “It’s time for you to act like it.” She opened the door, and Joe (I’d met him once, he’d shaken my hand and then promptly forgot I existed) looked cross as he asked her if she was ready to go. Tyson began to scream in that way he did when he was crying and no one was paying attention to him. My mom looked back at me, and I could see the relief on her face as she started to close the door behind her, the tension dropping out of her shoulders, the lines on her forehead disappearing, the smile once again on her face. “Just for a couple of days,” she told me.
“You can’t do this!”“Babe!” Joe snapped. “We’re running late already. We gotta go. Shut the fucking door!”
“I love you, Derrick,” she said as she closed the door behind her. Tyson screamed louder, demanding attention.
I walked over to him and looked down into the crib, and the moment he saw my face, the crying stopped, the yelling stopped. Those crocodile tears dried from his eyes, and he kicked his legs up again and started babbling at me, reaching his hands up, wanting me closer. I told myself not to hate him. I told myself it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t ask to be born. He didn’t ask for the mother he was given. He didn’t deserve my anger, no matter how much I wanted to give it to him.
I sighed as I bent over and picked him up, and he laughed as he was lifted to my shoulder, his hands immediately going to my hair and yanking it as he talked in my ear in that way that only he could. I walked around in circles, trying to get him to calm down, talking out loud, telling him stories made up on the fly, telling him about my day, telling him about something stupid Creed had done. And before I could stop myself, I told him how much I missed Otter, how I wanted him home, how everything seemed different with him away at school, how different it was when he was near. I told him that Otter was so cool, that he was the greatest guy, how scared I was to meet him at first because he was bigger than me, and that I’d never met a big brother before, and I thought that he would hate me. I told Tyson that Otter made me want to be a good big brother too, that I was going to do whatever it took to make sure he was taken care of. As I spoke, he sat back in my arms and watched my face, and there was such a spark there, such a recognition of my words in his eyes. I knew he couldn’t understand me, not really, but he looked as if he did. That look was everything.
“Gotta take care of you,” I told him quietly as his eyes started to droop. “You’re just a little guy. Just a kid, you know? I may not know what I’m doing all the time, but we’ll figure it out. Otter taught me, so I think I can teach you, I guess. Okay, kid?”
I placed him back down in the crib and covered him with a blanket, and I watched him for a moment, hating my mother but never him. Only then did I realize how much I needed to speak to the one person I knew who could understand.
“Hello?” he said as he answered his phone.
“I thought you’d be in class,” I mumbled.
“I am,” Otter said. “I saw it was you and stepped out. What’s up, Derrick? You sound upset.” His voice was warm, concerned. It was Otter, and I was immediately calmed.
“Am I going to be a good brother?” I asked, hedging.
He laughed. “The best,” he said. “You learned from me, didn’t you?” I picked at a chip in the countertop. “Yeah.”
“Now tell me what’s really wrong.”
Slight hesitation. “Oh? She left you alone again? Why don’t you just go over to my house? Mom won’t mind. Do you want me to call her for you?” “She left Tyson too.”
Silence, and for a moment, I thought we’d been disconnected. But when Otter finally spoke again, his voice had lost the warmth and had become something else entirely. “Where’d she go?”
I didn’t know if he was mad at me too or not, and my own voice was small when I said I didn’t know.“Did she say when she’s going to be back?”
“Two days.”
“I’m coming home.”
I was alarmed. “Wait, Otter, you don’t have to—”
“Derrick,” he said in that warning voice of his, that voice that already drove me fucking crazy, “this isn’t up for debate. You have school tomorrow, and you need to go. I’ll watch Tyson while you’re in school.”
“What about your school?”He laughed again, but it had an edge to it. “That’s the difference. You pay to go to my school, and they don’t care if you miss a day or two. You can’t do that. You need to go to school.”
“Okay,” I said meekly. Then, “Otter?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, you’ve done everything right. You are strong and brave and kind, and I am proud to call you my little brother. You did the right thing by calling me because it means you trust me to help you. It means you know I can be there for you. And that makes me happier than I could ever say.”
There was a lump in my throat, and I couldn’t make it go away. “Otter—”“Do you believe me?”
“I….”
“Do you believe me?”
“Yeah.” Because I did.
“Good. I’ll be there in a few hours. Hang tight, okay?”
I wanted to tell him I loved him, because right then I didn’t think it was possible to love another more. But that was stupid. That was gay. How faggy would that sound? He’d laugh at me and tell me that I shouldn’t say things like that, that guys didn’t speak that way. So instead of saying what was in my head and heart, I just said good-bye.
I DON’T know how much time has passed, and I think I’m dozing and
dreaming (surreal and bright, everything gold and green and warm and right, and even though she’s trying to poke her way through, he keeps her at bay) because I hear a sigh come from the doorway and footsteps walking toward me. Someone steps over the ledge to the bathtub, and suddenly I’m being crowded against the side, a large mass at my back, a big arm sliding over my chest and pulling me back, another arm sliding under my head to act as a pillow that’s as hard as the tub floor. Lips press against the back of my neck and trail up to my hair, and a nose is pressed against the back of my head, and I’m inhaled, I’m breathed in, and there’s another sigh, and this one sounds more content, more like the feeling of coming home after a long day. I don’t open my eyes because I think I’m still lost in memory, that the only way he could be at my back is because I wish it to be so.
“Earthquakes?” he whispers as he curls around me. He’s real. Oh God, he’s so real, and I can hear the memory in my head because he thinks I’m brave and strong, and I want to tell him I’m not, that he sees something in me that’s not there, that I’m weak and scared, and I don’t think I’m good enough for him, but I want to try. I want to try and be the person he thinks I am, because if he thinks I can do it, then maybe, just maybe it’s possible, just maybe it’s true, and I need him to help show me who I am. I need him to show me what I could be.
But I say none of that. I don’t know if I could get the words out. Instead, I nod.He pulls me tighter against his body and breathes me in again. “I never….” His words get caught in his throat, and I feel him shake behind me, and it’s like the earthquakes have followed us here, in this safe place, but then he stops and clears his throat, but it still does nothing to hide the wetness pressed against the back of my head. “I never wanted to be the cause of this. To have to make you feel like you needed to hide in here. I told myself a long time ago that if you or the Kid ever needed to come in here, I’d be right there with you because it’s my job to protect you both now. You’ve done enough all these years, and I promised myself that I was going to be the one to keep you both safe from now on.”
He squeezes me tighter, and I want to tell him everything, that I love him and only him and that there will never be anyone else for me, that if only he’d hold me like he’s doing now for the rest of our lives, it still wouldn’t be long enough.
But he continues: “And now you’re here because of me, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve failed you, that I’ve broken my promise.” A light kiss behind my ear, lingering and sweet. “And I didn’t think I could do that, that I could be the one to make you scared. I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cracking, my big, strong Otter, my unflappable man, is breaking behind me, his arms starting to shake again. “I’m sorry if you thought I doubted you. I’m sorry if I made you doubt yourself. I never meant for that. I never meant for any of this. The thought… the thought of losing you terrifies me, Bear. It’s not that I don’t trust you… but, Christ, you’re so fucking young, and this is all so new to you. What if there is something better out there for you? What if I’m just holding you back? I could never forgive myself if I kept you from being happy, from finding out who you are, no matter if I thought I knew who you already were.”
He sighs in my hair, his voice stronger, another soft kiss. “I love you, Papa Bear. Like I’ve never loved anyone else in my life. I will always love you, no matter what happens in the future, no matter what has happened in the past. You are my family now, you and Ty. You know you’ve always been a part of our family with my parents and Creed, and you both still are. But now you belong to me, now you’re both mine, and I get to call you my own, and I promise to remind you of that every day, to make sure you know that I could never want anything other than you, that I will support you no matter what. It’s because of you that I am the way I am. If I’m a good person, if people see me as such, it’s because you made me that way. And I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.”
His voice broke at times, the words sometimes rushed and sometimes halting. His voice was low and rough, the words building up steam until the last came out breathlessly harsh in my ear. His grip across my chest grew in strength until it felt like I was trapped in a vise, fused into the chest behind me. I could feel his groin against my ass, and I could almost resist the urge to press back against him, grinding myself into him. But it was his words, his words that negated all the rest, his words that caused me to gasp into his arm, that let the tears fall from my eyes in a hot rush all because—
you belong to me—while I knew how he felt, I’d never heard him say it with such clarity, and I’m annihilated, my heart shredded, and body weak and loose. He’s waiting for me to say something, anything, and Christ, I’m dragging this out, but I can’t even think, much less process any coherency that would be remotely close to the gift he’s just given me.
Well, it says, chuckling. You could always ask him to marry you. That’d top his speech for sure. Could you imagine the look on his face? Four words, Bear. Four words is all it would take. It might not solve everything, but don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, that it’s not there at the back of your mind like a gnat buzzing in your ear. You see him and you wish and you hope and you pray, but you don’t name it. You never do. It has a name, though. You could give it one and finally admit to yourself what you really want.
I don’t… I… I can’t….It sighs. Of course you can’t. I don’t know why I would’ve thought otherwise. Give him what you can, Bear, and hope it will be enough.
Otter starts to tense behind me, and I’ve let my silence drag on too long. I’ve gotten so lost in my own neurosis that he’s taken it for rejection, that I won’t speak because there’s nothing left to say. There is, there’s so much to say, so many words that one more eloquent than myself should be saying to him, but he’s stuck with me, for better or worse—
in sickness and in health for as long we both shall live amen amen amen—and I turn over, his arm sliding off my waist, facing him, still using his other arm as a pillow, and he’s watching me, the gold-green wet and bright. He must see something in my eyes, because his shoulders start to relax, and when I tell him that there will only be him for me, he looks relieved and his body starts to shake again, and I pull his face to mine and kiss his cheeks, his lips, his forehead and hair, and then I cradle his head against my chest, and he floats away in that relief, but it’s okay, because I’ve got him. He’s attached to me, a part of me, and there’s no way I’m letting go.
We breathe in and out. And for the moment, we live.