8. Where Bear Marks the Passage of Time

AND so we lived. Or at least as best we could.

It seemed like time sped up then, and the next few months flew by quicker than I expected. Several things of note occurred, which I will explain here. Some good, some not so good. There were days that were rough, days when Ty needed the bathtub, days when I needed it. Otter would always find himself sitting with us in there, holding onto us both until the earthquakes subsided. They never lasted long. But the one thing that you should know during those past few months is that we did live, and we were okay, for the most part. There were still issues, to be sure, but I think that there always will be. People like Ty and myself aren’t ever going to be completely free of our damnable neuroses, no matter how hard we try. Acceptance is the next step, I’m told. Hell, at least I’m no longer in denial.

Mostly.

Probably the biggest thing you should know is that sometime in October I received a phone call from Erica Sharp, one that I knew was coming but still could not prepare for. It’s like being aware that a car accident is about to happen. You see it coming, you know there’s nothing you can do, and you brace yourself for impact and hope that it won’t be enough to shatter you into a billion little pieces. I braced for that impact and had apparently been doing so for a while, but it didn’t seem to matter. Hearing the words sent chills down my spine, and I gripped the phone so tight that I thought it would break apart in my hands. Lucky for me, the Kid was in the backyard with Dominic. Otter was going over prints for an upcoming show displaying his work at an AIDS benefit. It was a pretty big deal, and he’d been busy for the past couple of weeks, getting everything ready.

The words?
“Derrick,” Erica said gently. “We’ve found her.”

At first, I didn’t know what she meant. I think it was my brain’s last ditch effort to avoid insanity, but it only lasted for a split second before my hand started to squeeze the phone and my jaw began to ache. My heart thumped erratically in my chest. I felt a cold sweat bead out on my forehead, and all I can remember thinking is finally. Finally we’ve found you. It wasn’t a relief born out of need; well, not the need of Julie McKenna. It was more the necessity of finally knowing where she was, that I could look at a map and point and say, “There she is. She’s somewhere right there.” It took away a layer of the mysteriousness off it all, but I didn’t know how much further I wanted to dig.

“Where?” I croaked out.

Erica hesitated. “Bear, you should know that this doesn’t really change anything, okay? We’re still going to move forward like we had planned, we’re still going to push and pull and fight until we get what we want. Nothing is going to change that. The only thing this means is now we know where she is, so we won’t necessarily have any surprises coming down the road. We’ve already sent a process server out to her with the paperwork showing your intention of gaining custody of Ty, in addition to supports for her to sign if she is willing to relinquish custody of him to you.”

“Dammit, where is she?”
“Coeur D’Alene.”
“Coeur D’Alene? Where’s—wait. Idaho?”
“Yes.”
“You’re fucking telling me that she’s only four hundred miles away?” “Yes.”

I saw red, and I heard Otter call out my name in a worried tone from his little office down the hall. “How long has she been there?”
“Bear, does it really matter? What matters is that we know. For some reason, she decided to apply for a checking account through Idaho Fidelity, and it pinged back to us off the skip-trace search.”
“How long!”

Erica sighed. “It looks like she’s been there the whole time, Bear.”

Otter came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest, pulling me back into him, resting his chin on the top of my head. I felt him breathing behind me as he rubbed his thumb against my sternum, and I was able to rein in my anger, at least for the moment. I glanced back up at him, and he must have seen the fear and anger in my eyes because his brow furrowed, and he took the phone from my hands and pushed a button to bring it on speakerphone. He set the phone on the counter and gathered me in his arms again, like he was trying to shield me from her words. “Erica, it’s Otter. I’ve put you on speaker.”

“Is Tyson with you?” she asked cautiously.
“He’s outside. I assume that you’ve found her?”
“Yes. In Idaho. There’s… something else you should know.” “Will it affect the outcome of the custody petition?”

“It may, though I can’t quite decide if it would be in our favor or not, especially if she decides to attempt to get custody of Tyson. Though, obviously, her absence would play heavily against her. Probably to the point that no court would award custody to her. Visitation rights, maybe, but not custody.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t think of what it could be. “What is it, Erica? Stop being vague and just fucking tell me.”

“The guy she moved out there with? Frank Taylor? They still live together in a sort of common-law relationship. They are not married, as far as we can tell, and that would have popped up almost immediately as she would have a marriage certificate on file. But… there’s a… a third person in the household. And we were able to verify it through hospital records. Even though we couldn’t access them in their entirety due to privacy laws, we were able to confirm dates.”

“Dates of what?” Otter asked, even though I already knew. I closed my eyes and wished it wasn’t so.
“Julie McKenna gave birth in May of last year at the age of forty-four to a baby girl. Frank Taylor is the father listed on the birth certificate. The child was not put up for adoption, and the process server said that when Julie answered the door, she was carrying a little girl in her arms.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I whispered.

Erica sounded miserable. “I wish I was, Bear. You’ve got a half-sister now. Isabelle Jade Taylor, born May 26. There’s no records of Child Protective Services ever having been out to the house for any reason, no records of any time police have been called to the address in Coeur D’Alene, which are lower middle-class apartments.”

Only one thought crossed my mind. “We can’t tell the Kid,” I said, my voice barely sounding like my own. “We can’t tell him about her. Any of it. I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to know that she’s so close, that she fucking gave up her family so she could go have another. It’ll kill him. He’s strong, but this will kill him.”

“Bear, if she decides to fight your petition, you won’t have a choice,” Erica tells me patiently. “He’ll find out anyway.”

“No,” I snapped. “It’s not going to come to that. She’s not going to come back in some fucking last-ditch effort to get him away from me. If she wanted to do this, she’d have made good on her threat months ago. She’s not coming back. Fuck her.”

“You can’t know that,” Erica argued. “Not yet. While it’s good you believe that, you have to prepare for every eventuality, Bear. I know it sucks, believe me, and I was dreading this conversation for the last few hours. But what good would it do either of you if he had to find out from someone else? That we’re in court one day and she walks in? Bear, he’d need to hear it from you first. He needs to know so he doesn’t find out you’ve kept it from him down the road.”

“Erica, I know you mean well,” Otter said, “and I know you’ve got Bear and the Kid’s best interest in mind, but I’m inclined to agree with Bear on this. In the end, it is our decision, not yours. If we decide to keep this to ourselves for now, I’d hope you would respect that decision and not make this any more difficult than it already is.”

She sighed in frustration. “I just hope there isn’t a time in the future when I get to say I told you so. But honestly? My gut feeling says that she’s not going to respond. I do believe she’d have done so by now. Other than her little stunt in August, she’s made no other attempt to reach you in the last three years.”

“And we still have no idea how the hell she knew all that she did,” I said, feeling the oncoming rush of a headache. “It still freaks me out that she knew so fucking much about me and Otter. That’s the only thing I want answered.”

Something crossed Otter’s eyes right then, something that caused his mouth to open like he was going to speak, but he seemed to change his mind. I looked at him questioningly, but he just shook his head.

“And we’ve looked into your information, Bear. No one has tried to access your credit rating, made any inquiries through the HR office at the grocery store. I don’t think she hired someone to dig up information on you, because that would leave a trail. I’m as frustrated as you are on that end. I wish I had more answers, but if you haven’t spoken with any of her acquaintances and told them all about yourself, then I just don’t know.”

“Did she seem… happy?” I asked, hating myself for even caring. Otter leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
Erica laughed quietly. “It was just the process server that saw her, Bear. I don’t think he cared one way or another about her happiness. Most of them don’t. Does that bother you? If she was?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Bear, if there’s one thing I could tell you to remember, it’s this: whatever she’s got, it’s nothing compared to what you have. You have a family that loves you, a partner that thinks you walk on water, and a little brother who thinks you’re the greatest thing to have ever existed. That’s what is important. Do me a favor and remember that, okay?”

“I’ll make sure to remind him daily,” Otter promised, grinning wickedly at me.

I rolled my eyes at him, but even he could see I felt a bit lighter. “How long?” I asked. “How long does she have to respond?”
“Ninety days, which will put it around sometime in mid-January.”

“See?” Otter told me. “Even more to celebrate then.”
“What’s that?” Erica asked.

“My birthday’s on January 22. If we get the Kid then, it’ll be the best present, and I couldn’t ask for more.”
“The countdown begins, then!” Erica said cheerfully. “We’ll all go out for dinner and celebrate because that should be the last big hurdle we’ll face in this. Georgia’s reports have been glowing, and the therapist said he feels both you and Ty have benefited in the couple of months you’ve been in to see him. We can almost see the finish line, Bear. You’ve almost made it.”

I almost told her that’s when most people trip and fall, but quickly decided against it. Apparently, I was turning into an eternal optimist. Pretty soon, everything would have been sunshine and roses.

“Sure,” was my reply.

 

“Please let me know if you have any other questions, then, guys, and I’ll let you know if anything else comes up in the meantime.”

Then she was gone.
Otter turned the phone off and pulled me into him again, ignoring my protestations, ignoring how I told him I was fine, that I was okay, that I

didn’t need to be comforted right then, that it didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. But he would have none of it, and eventually, I sank down into his embrace and allowed him to take away all the hurt and pain because he knew I was not fine, I was not okay. There was a turmoil there, that old anger sparking with new fire, burning bright with indignation.

A daughter? I thought wildly. She has a fucking daughter. I have a little sister. The Kid is now a middle child. She has a new family that she’s kept, that she’s keeping, at least for now. Isabelle. Does she love her? Does she look down into the baby’s eyes and see herself reflected back? What does she think about the little life she holds in her hands?

I couldn’t wrap my mind around it, how she could so easily walk away from her sons but hold onto her daughter. It would have been easy for her to give her up for adoption, and I couldn’t understand why she didn’t.

It’s probably something I’ll never know.

THE holidays came, as they do every year, but even with all the uncertainty hanging above our heads (though it did seem to be getting better day by day), it was a brighter time than it had been in years past. Thanksgiving was an unmitigated disaster, as we tried to have it at our house for the first time, which led to a suspicious accident involving the turkey that the Kid said he had nothing to do with, nor could I prove that he did. I’d prepared him an impressive spicy roasted edamame casserole which he raved about when I had him test it to make sure it wasn’t too much for him.

That led to two minutes of peace and quiet before he launched again into how barbaric the pilgrims were in taking the lands from the Native Americans, how now we celebrate that horrific tragedy by shoving bread up turkey asses and then taking it back out again and putting it in our mouths. He contemplated quite loudly on whether or not there would ever be a turkey revolt, and that he believed that one day there could be, and wouldn’t we all be sorry when we had bread shoved up our asses and we were put in the oven until our juices ran down our sides and our skin swelled up nice and brown. I told him that was a horrible thing to say. He told me that I would probably enjoy said treatment by turkeys because I like stuff like that now. I asked him quietly to elaborate what he could possibly mean. He told me that while researching gay history, he was able to discover that the smaller man in a gay relationship is normally the bottom, and even though he didn’t quite get the subtle intricacies that the position held, he was quite sure that I fit the bill to a T. I asked him politely to stop researching gay history because I was afraid it was going to warp his fragile little mind. He told me it was already too late, and didn’t I know that my name, Bear, was wrong because that implied that I was a big, hairy man in the gay community? And that Otter was too incorrectly named, because apparently an “otter” is a small gay man with body hair. He mused on the fact that it must be fun to be gay because you get to change your names, apparently quite often, whether you’re a drag queen or a hairy individual. He came to the conclusion that it must be even more wonderful to be a hairy drag queen and said he was going to keep it on his short list of prospective career possibilities, along with astronaut, physicist, and furniture store salesman.

Sometimes, it’s easier not to ask.
Other times….

“Furniture store salesman?” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Why do you want to do that?”

“I like couches,” he said. “Duh.”
“You’re very odd, Kid.”
He grinned. “Learned from the best, Papa Bear.”
I made sure I added a couch to my mental Christmas list for him. So, somehow, the turkey caught fire, and by the time I pulled it out, it

was black and smelled like death, and the Kid sauntered into the kitchen, whistling brightly before stopping and staring at me and Otter trying to salvage anything we could that didn’t look like it was suffering from fourthdegree burns.

“Oh gosh!” he said a little too loudly. “Whatever happened here?” “The turkey burned,” I said, frowning at him. “Where have you been?”

“In my room,” he said, smiling widely. “Just… hanging out, you know? Doing… stuff. And things.”

“I guess we’ll just have to eat the edamame,” Otter sighed, dumping the remains of the turkey in the garbage. “The best part of Thanksgiving is having leftovers. I’m the saddest person in the world right now.”

“We’ll have plenty of edamame,” the Kid promised him. “I’m sure you can put it on a sandwich if you’re so inclined. Wow, wait till I tell everyone on the PETA message boards that we’re having our very first true vegetarian Thanksgiving. Huzzahs all around!”

“You did it, didn’t you?” I accused him.

He looked moderately offended, his hand coming up to his throat. “How dare you? I would never do anything like turn up the heat on the oven just to

burn the turkey so we could eat whatever I wanted to. That’s a little extreme, Papa Bear. Give me a little more credit.”

Have you ever had mashed potatoes and gravy and edamame? Don’t. It’s way gross.

Christmas approached, and Otter and I made the decision that we’d do the family thing on Christmas Eve and start our own tradition of having it just be us three on Christmas Day. We went over to his parents’ house, where the Kid was lavished with gifts upon gifts of stuff he didn’t really need but couldn’t live without. Mrs. Paquinn somehow, someway, had ironed a print of Anderson Cooper’s face onto a backpack, and the look on the Kid’s face when he saw it was one of such extreme ecstasy, I worried he’d literally just shit himself in the middle of the Thompsons’ living room. Mrs. Paquinn looked pleased with herself as she smiled at him, telling him that she’d also written to Mr. Cooper and asked for his autograph, and when it came in, she’d have it blown up into a print to iron on to the backpack as well. You would have thought that Mrs. Paquinn had gifted him PETA itself with the way he ran around the house screaming.

“Is there even a point in giving him my present?” Creed grumbled, looking down at a badly wrapped present that was obviously a football. “Oh, I’m sure there is,” Mrs. Paquinn said. “But for the life of me, I can’t think of what it would be. You just got Paquinned.”

 

“Paquinned?” Creed said in surprise. “You can’t just make up words like that with your own name! That’s not fair!”

“You’re just jealous,” she said with a smile. “If you try to say someone got Thompsoned, it sounds like they just were engaged in an unfortunate sex act with an elephant.”

Creed just scowled, knowing he’d lost.

I watched him and Anna closely, trying to discern without being too obvious where they were at in their relationship. They seemed more aloof than Anna and I had ever been, and I wondered if they were making a conscious effort to avoid touching each other in front of the rest of us. But then I walked into the kitchen and interrupted them making out, and I blushed furiously and turned and walked out, hearing Creed call after me.

It wasn’t jealousy I was feeling. It couldn’t be. It was just… I don’t know. It was weird seeing them together, and I almost felt it was like Creed had said that night at his parents’ dinner table, that someone else would know my best friend in a way that I never could. That had never bugged me before, and I only realized then it was because it was now my two best friends doing it with each other that compounded the situation. I felt strangely sad at the thought until I realized I had nothing to be upset about.

For once, it was that easy.

ON NEWYear’s Eve, long after Ty had fallen asleep, even though he swore he’d make it, the clock struck midnight, but I barely noticed. Otter had turned on low music a while before and started a fire and then pulled me up against him and started to sway back and forth. I started to protest, to tell him I couldn’t dance, that this was cheesy and stupid, but somehow, I just couldn’t get it out of me. I put my hands up against his chest and let him hold me and move me however he wished. It was quiet, and as the fire popped in the background and as that gold-green watched me and shone, it was almost like he was about to ask me a question, but then the clock started chiming something, and he bent down and kissed me instead, and that was all I could remember, because he was all I could see.

I KNEW something was up after the new year began when Otter and the Kid began whispering among themselves, immediately silencing whenever I walked into the room. It was getting to the point that I started trying to catch them, but they were always one step ahead of me. I accused them of shenanigans, but they just smirked and told me I didn’t know what I was talking about. It didn’t help that Otter was starting to act like he was nervous about something, and I didn’t know what the hell it could be. I wondered if I’d forgotten something important, like an anniversary, or something else. His birthday was the twenty-second, but I didn’t know for the life of me why he and the Kid would be plotting something for me.

I tried working the Kid over, but apparently he’s against any kind of bribery, so much so that he seemed scandalized when I offered to pay him off if he would just tell me what they were up to.

“What kind of a person do you think I am?” he said, sounding horrified. “Is that how you’re going to get through life? Buying your way?”

“Just tell me,” I growled at him. “I’ll make it fifty bucks.” “You know, if these are the type of life lessons you’re going to be imparting on my impressionable young mind, you really should step back

and reevaluate your position as my big brother. For shame, Papa Bear. For shame.” He shook his head as he started to walk away, and I did feel guilty for at least a few seconds, until I heard him loudly telling on me to Otter, and Otter loudly telling him that he was proud of him for being able to resist monetary temptation and that wasn’t I just a bad, awful man?

If it’d just been the Kid and Otter, I think I might have been able to keep my sanity and nosiness in check. But it wasn’t. It was everyone. Mrs. Paquinn, Anna, Creed. Their parents. Even Isaiah seemed to smirk at me a bit more when classes resumed after winter break, even though there’s no way on God’s green earth that Otter would have called and told him anything. And then one day I came around the corner and saw him huddled up with Anna and I knew that she was a traitor, especially when I heard her laugh at something he’d said, only to realize she’d been caught by me, and she started sputtering insults at Isaiah, who replied back with only half of his usual snark.

So the world was against me.

“I don’t know why you all have to keep secrets,” I complained to Mrs. Paquinn, who’d met me for lunch three days before Otter’s birthday. “I thought we’d learned last summer that secrets don’t help anyone.”

“If you’re trying to guilt-trip me,” she replied amiably, “it’s not working. But please, do keep it up if it makes you happy. Lord knows there’s nothing I love more than hearing you complain about things.” She sipped her tea.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You love this, don’t you. Having this… this thing over me. You’re all doing this on purpose.”
She grinned sweetly, but I knew better. “I would think one would enjoy getting surprised.”

“Aha! So something is happening!”
“Really, Bear, you’re getting a tad bit desperate here, aren’t you? But I suppose it’s just a man thing to do. My Joseph, God love him, didn’t have a

lick of patience in his entire body. It was always now, now, now, with him.” She looked out the window of the tea shop, and it was almost like she got lost in whatever went through her head. “There’s times that I wish I’d been more in the moment with him. Times that I wish I hadn’t told him to just be patient, to just wait and see. Times I….” She stopped, shaking her head. When she looked at me again, her eyes were clear of memory. “I know that you’re young, and that you’ve got your whole life ahead of you, but it’s these moments that mean the most. Remember that, Bear.”

I do remember that. I do. Which is why today, I have come home from work and found the house empty, a cryptic note in Otter’s handwriting, telling me that my tux has been laid out, and that Tyson is with Mrs. Paquinn, and that I am expected on our little beach at five thirty. Sunset. It’s going to be a little cold, but I don’t care. Something starts to buzz through my body, a sense of anticipation that I can’t quite place. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know what Otter has planned, but if he’s decided to have us go back to that beach which holds one of my best memories (Otter! Otter! Otter! Don’t lead cows to slaughter!) then you bet your ass I’m not going to complain about the goddamn cold.

I walk to our room and my tux is laid out on the bed, a single red rose laid across the front. I set it to the side and lift up the jacket, and a little white piece of paper flutters down to the floor. I pick it up and open it. A note, in the Kid’s neat scrawl, time-stamped from just a couple of hours ago: There better be good news when you come to pick me up! I’ve already pretied the bow tie for you. Don’t mess this up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Good news? I think. What the hell is going on?
Don’t ask me, it says. Don’t we hate surprises?
I think for a moment. Only when we don’t know they’re coming.

Yeah, but we know something is coming, we just don’t know what. That’s even worse!
You know, we’re really going to have to work on our pessimism.

What, the glass is half-full instead of half-empty? Bullshit. What they don’t tell you is that regardless of how full the glass is, it’s filled with acid, and you’ll burn your face off.

Charming.

 

I put on the tux. It still fits as well as it did months ago, when I told

Otter I loved him for the first time. This shouldn’t surprise me, because I haven’t changed much physically. Any alterations done to myself have all been mental. I take the rose from the bed and glance in the mirror. I look okay, I guess. My skin is a little pale, and my hands are shaking a bit. I’m nervous and I don’t know why.

I’m in the car before I can stop myself, before I can allow myself to think. I look at the clock: it’s five fifteen. Fifteen more minutes. Why do I feel this is a big thing? Why does this feel like it’s a huge deal? I wrack my brain again, trying to remember something I could have forgotten, whether Otter and I had made plans for today, or if he’d hinted at something in a conversation I’d had with him. I wonder briefly if this is meant to be for his birthday and curse myself for not grabbing his present. As I think, I get closer to our beach and a memory pulls up from the depths, a brief statement he’d made at the gay bar a few months back, about wanting to ask me something. We’d been talking about… what? The future? Kids might have been a part of that conversation, but I think that was more of a freakout on my part. I’d told him I didn’t want to be his fucking wife, that’s for damn sure.

Ugh. What the hell is it?

 

My nerves don’t calm the closer I get to him. If anything, they intensify.

The butterflies in my stomach are apparently carnivorous, and they are eating through my stomach wall and fluttering around my heart. I chide myself for briefly entertaining the idea that it’s something bad, that Otter’s breaking up with me, that he’s not even going to be there when I get to the beach. I’ll arrive and the beach will be empty, and I’ll wait there for a while before finally heading home and finding the house is empty, that he’s used my absence to finish moving and I’ll be alone forever.

It would be so awesome if you could throw me a life preserver, it tells me.

For what?
So I can be saved from drowning in your angst. Ha!
So not funny.

My palms start to sweat, and my mind starts to wander, even though I’m only a few minutes away, and I remember there once was a time—

THEREwas a moment when I was sixteen, and I’d gotten a rare night off from the Kid. Mom had decided to stay home that night, saying she wanted to spend time with her son. I’d almost asked why it sounded like she was going somewhere, but I’d forgotten it the moment Creed had called and said his parents were out of town, and he and Otter were hanging out and getting drunk.

I kissed Ty—
back soon ty don’t yell at me it’s just one night

—on the forehead and promised him that I’d be back the next morning, trying hard to ignore the way he scowled at me, the way he asked—
why can’t I go too

—questions I didn’t want to answer, the guilt ripping through me, watching as he sulked on the couch in the way only a five-year-old can. I told Mom I was leaving, and she’d been remarkably sober, her eyes clear, and she smiled at me and told me to have fun, not to worry about the two of them because they were going to watch TV and eat pizza, and for once, I thought she was serious. I thought she was being kind. I couldn’t know then that she was probably already planning her escape. She’d already mentioned some guy named Frank. I didn’t know then just how far it would go. So I smiled back, the expression foreign on my face as it was directed toward Mom. Maybe things will be different, I thought. Maybe things will finally be okay. Just another couple of years, and I’ll be out of here. I tried not to think about what that would mean for the Kid. It was just easier that way.

Creed opened his door when I arrived, his eyes already slightly glazed, a beer bottle in his hands, and he shouted happily at me as I walked through the door. I grinned at him as he grabbed me and wrapped me in a drunken man-hug, the three slaps on the back harder than they normally would be, and I had to concentrate to keep from wincing. He pulled away but hooked his arm around my neck and chattered away about something in my ear, and I listened, but I was also listening for Otter, wondering where he was at, sure that he’d have better things to do than to hang out with a couple of teenagers. He’d been home from school for a while now, working at some studio that he said held his interest, that he said was fine for now. It was that last that scared me the most, the for now. What happened when for now was no longer good enough? What—

about me you can’t leave me i couldn’t take it

—would happen then? I tried not to think about the future, to make myself only focus on the for now, because life was too short to worry, even though I would do it anyways.

It didn’t take long. I laughed at something Creed had said, and Otter yelled my name from the top of the stairs, like he hadn’t seen me in years, even though it’d only been days. I looked up and saw him standing near the railing looking down at me, and something happened, something fluttered—

he’s so big so so big
—something that’d been happening every time I saw Otter lately. It happened when he grinned at me, when he said my name. It happened when

he stood next to me, when he laughed that belly laugh of his, the one that’s deep and strong and infectious. I realized I was staring, and I grinned up at him as he padded down the stairs. Creed let me go, and then Otter was wrapped around me, and I closed my eyes—

oh oh oh this is warm and nice and why do i care

—and finally Creed chided us to let go, and Otter dropped his arms and winked at me.
My mouth went dry.

We drank that night, Creed more than the rest of us. We sat in the living room with the lights down low, watching the fog roll in off the ocean, half listening to each other, laughing and talking loudly. Creed stood up and tried to do some dance and ended up falling over and decided quite quickly that the floor was where he planned to spend the night, and within minutes was snoring away, even with Otter and me pelting him with pillows.

Otter and I stayed up late that night sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch, our feet propped up on an ottoman. He told me stories about college, some I’d heard before, others that were new. He asked questions about what my plans were. I hesitated for a moment, then told him I wanted to be a writer, and he became the first person I ever told. He watched me intently before saying that I’d better do it, then, that I was going to be the greatest writer ever known. I blushed, feeling the beer in my veins flowing wonderfully. I wondered, for a brief moment, what would happen if I laid my head on his shoulder.

I didn’t know why I thought that.

Eventually, I was too drunk to stay awake, and he pulled me up the stairs and put me in Creed’s bed. He stared down at me for a moment as if he wanted to say something further, that something was on his mind, and his eyes grew dark when I asked him what was wrong. He told me nothing was wrong, he was just tired. He said good night and shut the door gently behind him.

I awoke once that night, the press of my bladder more urgent than my need to sleep. I got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, only to have the door open and Otter walk out. He froze when he saw me in the dark hallway, and there was a moment then, a moment where we watched each other and something happened, something flashed, bright and heavy, and I heard him gasp quietly to himself, a subtle intake of breath that I almost missed. He wore only shorts, and the moon slid out from behind the clouds and soft light poured in through the window, illuminating his skin, the muscles in his chest and arms, his flat nipples, the light dusting of hair.

And then he spoke, his voice hoarse: “I never asked you,” he said. “How’s Anna doing?”

I stared at him, unable to look away. “She’s… fine. She’s….” He walked toward me, and I started to tremble, and I thought— earthquake oh god earthquake

—he was going to stop in front of me, that he was going to tower over me because I was just a little guy. But he didn’t. He walked past me, his bare arm brushing against mine. He didn’t say another word as he disappeared into his room, shutting his door behind him.

I PARK in the little side parking lot, unable to see the beach below due to the sand-dune crest. My brow furrows for a moment as I look around and see my car is the only one in the parking lot, Otter’s Jeep nowhere to be seen. I ignore that little sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, because it doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably part of the surprise, or whatever’s going on. He’s probably heard my car drive up and is staring up the hill, grinning that Otter grin, the gold-green flashing as he waits for me to stop being such a chicken shit, to get out of the vehicle and just fucking go to him. I close my eyes and briefly imagine what set up he’s got going on down there, if there’s a table with food, with music playing softly on the stereo, candles flicking in the cool ocean breeze. Maybe there will be a misanthropic seagull that’ll ruin everything, but in reality making things all that much better. Maybe there will be more, because he’s there. He’s waiting for me. I open my eyes and the dashboard clock says 5:31.

Showtime.

I open the door. I close the door. I put one foot in front of the other, my suit jacket flapping in the wind, the beach grass bending back toward me as my feet touch the sand, my toes dig in to the tiny particles that feel like home. I almost pause then, almost stop because I’m scared, but I think it’s a good thing. I think… I think I know what’s about to happen—

bear i’ve been thinking
—and my eyes start to burn. Oh my God.
But don’t I just run? Don’t I just fly over the hill?
And stutter to a stop.

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

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

 

he up and left and i’ll be alone forever

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

Then my phone rings. It startles me, and I almost drop it to the ground. I answer it without even looking at the display. I know who it is. “You asshole,” I say, grinning into the phone. “Where the hell are you?

You think it’s funny—”
“Bear?” a little voice says, cracking.
“Kid?” I say, surprised. I look down at the display. A number I don’t

recognize. I hear background noise that sounds like it’s coming over a speaker. Someone coughs.

“Bear,” he says again, and he sounds desperate.
No, I think. No. No. No.
“Kid, where are you?”
“The hospital.”
“Why?” I croak.
“It’s… oh, Bear. Oh. Oh.”
Otter.
“Tell me, Tyson. Tell me. Please, oh God, tell me. Please. Please.” He starts to cry. “It’s… Mrs. Paquinn. We were talking, and then she

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. Hurry.” And then he’s gone.

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

“I need to speak to Derrick McKenna, please,” a female voice says. “Speaking. Who’s this?”
“Mr. McKenna, my name is Dr. Elizabeth Moore. I’m an emergency

room physician over at Mercy Hospital.”
“I’m already on my way. My little brother just called and told me.” “Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know anyone had been

notified already.”

 

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

 

“I’m sorry… I think I may have made a mistake. This is Derrick

McKenna, correct?” She recites my number back to me.
“Yeah,” I growl impatiently. “You have a Theresa Paquinn there, just
brought in with a nine-year-old named Tyson. He’s the one that called me.
She apparently had a stroke or something?” Oh, God.
I hear Dr. Moore flip through some papers, and then she sighs. “I’m
afraid I don’t know anything about a Theresa Paquinn. Derrick, that’s not
why I called.”
Confusion. “Then what are you calling about?”
“Oliver Thompson.”
No. No. No.
“What about him?” I hear myself ask.
“Mr. McKenna, there’s been… there’s been an accident.”
“Otter,” I mutter. “Otter. Otter.”
Don’t lead cows to slaughter! I love you and I know. I know. I know. I
should have. Told you. Every day I should have told you.
“Mr. McKenna? You’re listed in our system as his emergency contact.
Do you know him?”
“Is he alive?” I ask, my voice just above a whisper.
“Yes,” she says carefully. “For now. I’m not going to lie to you, Mr.
McKenna. It’s… serious. According to the EMTs, he was T-boned on the

driver’s side of his vehicle by a van that ran a stop sign. Mr. Thompson’s vehicle was pushed into a tree.”

 

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

 

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

 

“Yes.”

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

You give them back. You give them back to me because we’re not finished. I’m not done with them. They’re not yours! They’re mine!
And then I’m on my feet, racing for the car, ignoring my heart left back on the sand.