T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 1 - Bear, Otter, and the Kid (32 page)
later, we hop back into his room, dripping wet and furiously spent. I want nothing more than to curl up under the covers with Otter, but the Kid is at home, and I need to find out where Creed is. I yell at Otter when he smacks my bare ass with his hand as I reach down to pull my phone out of my pants. He laughs and lies on his bed on his back, grinning at me and wiggling his eyebrows as he runs his hand slowly up and down his body. My mouth goes dry for a second as my cock tries to twitch into gear, but its a no-go. Six times in four hours is enough to make anybody exhausted, even if the object of their desires is splayed out in front of them, doing their best to get a rise. Otter smirks as I grumble and sit down on the bed next to him, trying to ignore his self-ministrations. I open my phone and am surprised to see five missed calls. No voice mails. I hadnt been able to hear it ring from the shower. I frown as I go to the missed call list and see that the Kid has called me three times and Mrs. Paquinn the other two.
Trying to keep the low-level panic at bay, I show the phone to Otter. He stares at it thoughtfully and reaches over me to the nightstand and grabs his phone. “The Kid called me a few times too,” he says. “And another number I dont recognize.” He reads it off, and it matches Mrs. Paquinns cell phone.
“Why wouldnt they leave any voice mails?” I ask, my voice a little higher than it should be. My hands start to shake slightly, and Otter notices it and grabs them in his hands, rubbing softly.
“Im sure its nothing, Bear,” Otter says gently. “If it was something big, they would have left a message, right?” He takes one of his hands away and reaches to his phone and presses a button and puts it to his ear.
“The Kid,” he says, smiling reassuringly at me. “They probably just want to know what time youre getting home.” His smile slides slowly from his voice as I hear Tys voice mail pick up. “Hmm,” he mutters. He ends the call, then dials another number. “Mrs. Paquinn?” he says after a moment. “Its Otter Thompson. Im fine. How are you?” I motion my hands in front of Otters face, telling him to get to the point. “Did you call my phone earlier? You did? Oh, hes right here. Yes. Is the Kid okay? Im sorry, I meant Ty. Is Tyson alright?” He covers the mouthpiece with his hand and says, “Tys fine, Bear.” I feel a surge of relief wash through me and flop back on the bed. Jesus Christ. Otter goes back to the phone. “Im sorry? Now? Yes, I can tell him. Tell Ty that well be there in a few minutes. Okay, bye.” He clips off the phone and stares down at it thoughtfully.
“She said….” He pauses and then cocks his head to the side. “She said that you need to get home right away to „help resolve a situation.”
“A situation? What the hell does that mean?” I ask, already shoving my legs into my shorts.
“I dont know, Papa Bear. I guess well see when we get there.”
I groan inwardly. It looks like Im not going to be talking to Creed tonight.
minutes later, we pull up into my apartment complex. Otter parks his Jeep next to mine, where it had been since hed picked me up earlier today. He turns off the Jeep and turns to me and smiles crookedly. I want to smile back, but I cant, but he seems to know this, and its okay with him. He leans over the center console and kisses me quickly, his stubble rough and wonderful against my face. Otter squeezes my hand, and we get out of the car and make our way up the steps and get to the door. I hesitate before sliding the key in the lock. I dont know why, but I suddenly have a very bad feeling about whats on the other side of this door. It seems Ty is okay and nothing appears to be wrong with Mrs. Paquinn, and for the life of me, I cant think of what else this could possibly be about.
Don’t ask me
, it says.
I’m just as confused on this as you are.
I feel Otter put his hand on my back, and it gives me a weak burst of courage, and I unlock the door and walk inside.
As soon as were inside, the Kid runs into the hallway and launches himself into my arms. It catches me by surprise and knocks me back gently into Otter. I can feel the Kid trembling, and he puts his face into my chest and his heart beats rapidly against mine. I glance back at Otter, a look of concern marring his handsome face. He reaches from behind me and puts his arms around my waist and brings them up the Kids back and rubs him soothingly.
Ty pulls back enough for me to see how wide his eyes are. “Shes here,” he whispers.
“Whos here?” I ask, confused and scared. Ty shakes his head and puts himself back into my chest and breathes heavily against me. I havent seen him like this in months.
Otter comes around to my side and puts his arm around me. I look at him, and he smiles back and squeezes my shoulder. I will my feet to start moving and eventually they do, one after another. Its only eight or nine steps to the living room, but its the longest walk of my life. As we turn the corner, I see Mrs. Paquinn sitting rigidly on a chair, facing the couch on the opposite side of the room. She looks at me and theres something in her eyes, something I cant quite place. I think it may be sorrow or fear or any number of things that people think when a bomb is about to be dropped. I honestly still cant see whats so bad. Tys in my arms, breathing and safe (even though hes petrified about
something
), and our apartment hasnt burned down, and Mrs. Paquinn isnt dead. I try to let myself feel some sense of relief. I try, that is, until I hear Otter speak beside me.
“Oh Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
“Hello, Bear,” my mother says.
I think I must be hearing things, because it couldnt be her. I allow myself to be amused for a split second that I would still be able to recognize her voice after all these years. Then I think I must be seeing things as I turn to look at the couch, because what Im seeing couldnt possibly be there. Julie McKenna is sitting on the couch, her back as rigid as Mrs. Paquinns. Her dark hair is shorter now and pulled back into a ponytail. On most, this would give a youthful appearance, but what I am struck by most when I see her for the first time in over three years is how
old
she looks. The crows feet around her eyes divot and scar her face. Her cheeks are puffy, and it looks like shes gained weight. The lumpy dress shes wearing screams sale rack at Kmart, and the shoes are blocky, nondescript. The necklace shes wearing is too shiny to be anything but cheap plastic. She looks beat, weathered, like nothing in her life has ever gone her way. Instinctively, I grip the Kid harder, trying to make him disappear so he never has to see where he came from, only where hes going. My eyes never leave my mothers, and Im almost horrified to see that they are the only thing about her that has not faded, the only thing about her that looks the same. They look the same because they are the brown of my eyes, the brown of the Kids.
I feel a protective hand on my shoulder and realize its Otter. I tear myself away from my mom for a moment and glance at him. His face is tense, his eyes hard. Hes glaring at my mother and not doing anything to hide it. He feels my eyes on him and turns to me and squeezes my shoulder again, his eyes shifting from anger to hold us, me and Ty, in the same regard he always does. Its almost enough to knock the drowning fear out of me. Almost. His eyes grow cold again as he glances back at my mom. She looks between us nervously and attempts another smile and fails miserably.
Mrs. Paquinn coughs behind me, and I hear her wheeze as she rises from her chair. “Bear, would you walk an old lady to the door?” she says quietly. I nod and kiss the Kids head and hand him over to Otter, whose arms are already waiting. As soon as Ty transfers to him, the Kid curls up against his chest, and Otter leans down and whispers calming words into his ear. His eyes are a contradiction from his words, like soft steel.
Mrs. Paquinn waits for me at the entryway. As I walk up to her, she speaks to Mom: “It was… interesting to see you again, Julie,” she says, her voice flat. “I hope you know that Bear has raised a pretty amazing child.”
My mother nods but doesnt speak.
I follow Mrs. Paquinn out the door and close it gently behind me. She turns to face me, as if expecting my barrage of questions.
“What the hell is she doing here?” I demand. “When did she show up?”
Mrs. Paquinn shudders and leans against the door. “She got here a couple of hours ago,” she says, her voice wavering. “There was a knock at the door, and Ty ran to get it, thinking it was you and that Otter boy. He came back in, just white-faced, and she was following behind him, smiling up a storm. At first I didnt recognize her, but then she opened her mouth, and I knew who she was immediately. Tyson and I both tried to call you.” She says this last part with no accusation in her voice, which makes me love her even more.
“I know, Im sorry. I didnt hear my phone at all.” I shake my head. “What is she doing here, Mrs. Paquinn? Did she say?”
She tilts her head back and closes her eyes. “She didnt say a whole lot, Bear, to be honest. She said that she came back to see how her boys were doing. She kept trying to get Tyson to talk to her, but when that boy wasnt on the phone trying to call you, he was huddled up against me.” She opens her eyes and looks at me. “Whatever shes here for, it cant be good,” she tells me. “No mother takes off for three goddamn years and leaves her children and then comes back without wanting something.”
“Shit,” I mutter. I cant focus as it seems every thought Ive ever had in my life is now racing through my head. My hands are sweaty and my knees feel weak. I want to run inside and get Otter and the Kid and get the hell out of here. Mrs. Paquinns words add to the mess in my head.
She takes my hand in hers and brings it to her dusty lips. “Bear, you need anything,
anything
, you know where Im at. I may not be all that quick anymore, but Ive looked after that boy for a long time now, and I know how to protect those I love.” I take her in my arms, and I hear a soft exhale of surprise, but she welcomes me gladly, her arms stronger than I thought they would be. She lets me go after a time, and without another word, wobbles over to her door and goes inside.
No mother takes off for three goddamn years and leaves her children and then comes back without wanting something.
I go back inside. As soon as I get to the living room, my mother stands expectantly. I see that Otter has taken the Kid out of the room, and I walk past my mom without saying a word and I hear her sigh as she sits back down. Fuck her. She can wait. My guys are not in the kitchen so I head down the hallway and see our bedroom door is shut and the light on. I try the handle, but the door is locked
“Who is it?” Otter asks gruffly.
“Its me,” I say quietly and hear the click of the lock, and the door opens. I look into the room, and the Kid is sitting on his bed, his back pressed against the wall. Otter closes the door and locks it again and pulls me over to the bed, where the Kid is, and gathers both of us in his arms and rocks us gently. He kisses the tops of our heads, and the Kids eyes are still wide and shocked, and I feel the first great wave of anger begin to wash over me. Otter feels me tense under his hands and begins to rub my back.
How the hell can she be here? After ditching her family for some fucking
guy
, how does she have the nerve to even show her face to us again, much less breathe the air in the same
zip code
? Bile rises, hot and bitter, but Im able to choke it back down where it slides greasily in my stomach. Three years is a long time to let anger and hatred for someone fester, and to be honest, I thought I had gotten over the majority of it. Yes, it sucked horribly when she left, and I was doubting myself and everyone around me and wondering how in Gods name I was going to provide for a child when I was still a child myself. I had days where I alternately cursed her name and then begged God to make her come home. Over time it dulled into a low ache that I always carried with me but became strangely adept at ignoring.
Now shes back, and its like the sore split open and started oozing all over again. But this time its accompanied by something else, something much darker. I try to focus on it, not completely understanding what it is. The best way I can think to describe it is that Im
offended
,
offended
that shes here,
offended
that she could ever think to show her face again. I dont think Im necessarily upset at the idea of her
actually
being here, but more so the fact that she
thinks
she can just show up like this, out of the blue, like nothing has ever happened. Like the last three fucking years never happened. Like I never came home that one day to find a note from our coward of a mother, saying shes sorry, but that she has to go, that Tom sez she can get a job and that I was always a happy baby and that she had left me $137.50 out my bank account, $137.50 of
my
money that was supposed to be for school, but why did I need school to be a writer? Three years of fear, anger, scrimping, sadness, loneliness, three years of feeling lost, like I had been abandoned and forced into a position I was not capable of doing. The bitterness swells within me, and I squeeze my boys tighter.
“
No
,” the Kid hisses, startling us both. I push away from Otter to get a good like at his face and have to stop myself from pushing him away as hes obviously
livid
. His eyes flash as his mouth twists into a sneer, and its the first time Ive ever seen this expression on him. Anger wells up in me again (did it ever really go away?), and I want nothing more than to knock down the bedroom door and drag her sorry ass out of our house and knock her down the stairs. I want to hear her bones break as she cries out when she lands. I want to break something so very badly, and it might as well be her.
“Ty,” I say, doing nothing to keep the vileness out of my voice. “Ty, I dont want you to be here for this. She has no right to see you.”
“I dont care,” he growls. “Im not leaving with Creed.”
I look to Otter for help. Hes staring down at Ty with an almost matching look of anger. I almost want my mother to walk in right now, to see all of us how we are now, to feel the full brunt of our wrath. I want her to shrink away and leave with her tail between her legs and beg our forgiveness as she walks out of our lives forever. She doesnt deserve to be here. She doesnt deserve to get to come in and ruin the uneasy stability that we have only just achieved after so long. Its not fair.
“Otter,” I start.
“No, Bear,” he says, almost with the same vehemence as the Kid. “I know what youre going to ask, and my answer is no. Im not going to take the Kid away from here and leave you alone with her.” He looks up at me, and his eyes are hard and blazing, but in more control than either the Kid or myself. “Ive unknowingly spent the last three years wanting you back and now that I have you, Im not going to let you face this by yourself. I love you too much for that.” He pauses, considering. Then he reaches up and squeezes the Kid against him again. “I love you
both
too much for that.”
“You cant make me leave, Bear,” Ty says, his voice like knives. “You cant make
us
leave. I dont want to see her, but Im not going away now, either. You can try, but I bet Otter and I can take you down.”
I grin sickly and my boys do the same. “What did she say to you, Kid?” I ask softly. “What was she talking about before I got here?”
Ty shakes his head. “She kept asking me about school and who my friends are and stuff.” He paws furiously at his eyes, wiping the tears away. “She asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. She asked about you too. A lot. She wanted to know where you worked and who you were hanging out with. She asked how long Otter had been back and if he ever hung out here.”
What the hell is she doing
? I think.
What game is she trying to play?
Careful, Bear
, it whispers.
Obviously something’s not right here, so you need to watch yourself.
“Is that all?” I say to the Kid.
He nods. “I didnt answer too much.” He shrugs. “I didnt think it was any of her goddamn business what were doing now. She doesnt get to know.”
Hes right, and I know hes my brother because hes thinking the same exact thing I am. My heart breaks a little then for the Kid, having to face this kind of obstacle at his age. I groan inwardly at the thought of what this is going to do to him in the long run. I silently curse her again, knowing shes unraveling everything weve worked for, everything weve done to finally put ourselves ahead. Pushing her down the stairs suddenly sounds like a good idea again. At least then wed be rid of her for good.
I stand, as ready as Im ever going to be. The weight of the world crashes down on my shoulder again and a wave of dizziness crawls over my eyes, and they blur and flash, and I reach my hand out, to steady myself on something, anything. Im not too surprised when I feel Otters arm under my shoulder as he moves to embrace me. I hug him fiercely, putting everything I can into it so he knows just how I feel. He seems to understand as he grips me tightly as well, and I feel crushed, in a good way. I want him to keep clutching me, to force out all of the horror thats wringing its way through my body. He pulls away and kisses my forehead and turns to pick up the Kid. Ty rests his head on Otters shoulders, and his arms hang limply at his sides.
“I hope you dont expect me to keep quiet if she pisses you or me off,” Otter says as I reach to unlock the door.
“Me either,” Ty chimes in.
I chuckle bitterly. “I wouldnt expect anything less from my guys,” I tell them, and then I open the door.
Nor I
, the voice says as we walk that long walk down the hallway.
As were walking that short ten feet back to the living room, time slows down and almost stops. It has to for me to be able to focus on everything thats on my mind. Oh God, I dont want to remember these things. I dont want to think about them, but I cant stop, and as I take another step toward a fucking cold inevitability, I sink lower and lower into the waves and then and then….
And then—
It’s my fifth birthday and Mom has forgotten and decides to get drunk at ten in the morning with some guy whose name I don’t know. Her eyes are glassy as they run over me, watching me sit at the kitchen table with them, knowing, just knowing that soon she’s going to yell surprise and there will be cake and balloons and presents. She pours herself and Unknown Guy another shot and they toast each other, and then they raise the glasses to me and knock them back and got ready for another. They are both passed out by noon, and I spend the rest of the day in my room, reading to myself and feeling an early tremor.
And then—
I’m eleven now, and begging my mom to let me go to Creed’s house to spend the night again. She’s been cooped up in the apartment for the last three weeks, a strange and scary bout of depression circling over her head. She doesn’t shower, she doesn’t eat. She stays locked in her bedroom and only leaves to buy cigarettes and bourbon before she’s back in her cave. I’m under specific instructions to go to school and then come right home, because, she says, what if she needs me? What if something was to happen to her, and I wasn’t there to help her? Some days, I don’t even get to go to school. But today, Creed has invited me over to his house because Otter is coming home for a break.
“Otters going to be there,”
I plead with her.
“You have to let me go!”
She stares at me, and for a moment, I think she’s forgotten who I am, and I dare to hope that she has. That shatters as vague recognition encroaches her face, and she shakes her head.
“I said no, Der,”
she tells me.
“What if I needed you? Something could happen to me, and you wouldnt be here.”
She takes another long drag of her smoke that’s dangling from her lips.
“Something could happen to me,”
she says again, and I can see that she’s gone as she stares out the kitchen window, and I leave the room so I can break down in solitude.
And then—
I’m twelve now and she comes in my room without knocking. I quickly shove the paper I’m writing on and feel my face grow hot. I’m writing a letter to Otter, asking him if when he graduates from college and I graduate from high school, if I could come live with him. It’s a letter I know I will never send as there are dozens more just like it hidden underneath my mattress. She looks around the room and finally sits at the edge of the bed and hangs her head down, playing with her hands.
“Derrick, weve got a situation here,”
she says.
“I dont know how the hell this happened.”
I don’t answer, hoping she’ll take the hint and go away so I can get back to my letter. I’m hoping she’ll leave me alone so I can imagine what it would be like to be all grown up and for Otter and me to have our own house, and we could do whatever we wanted and there would be no one to tell us no. She doesn’t get it.
“Derrick,”
she sighs,
“I think Im pregnant.”
When she says this, I feel the ceiling come crashing down, and I squint my eyes shut, praying to Whoever will listen to take her away. To make her leave me alone. Or, at the very least, to be utterly and completely wrong about what she just told me. I don’t know what to say to her, and seven months later, I have a little brother and all those letters go unsent.
I’m thirteen and I’m Bear from then on.
I’m fifteen, and she leaves for three days without telling me where she’s going.
I’m almost seventeen when she mentions someone named Tom.
And then—
I’m about to graduate high school now, and I come home one night from work. There’s no one here, and I try not to panic, and that’s when I see it, the three-page letter sitting on the table, full of misspelled words and broken promises. There’s a moment, a crystal-clear moment of pure clarity, and it’s the closest I have ever been to insanity in my life. I feel myself becoming unhinged and start to break, and the tremors turn into shockwaves, and I clutch the paper in my hands, and the magnitude is like something I’ve never known. It’s brought on by words, words like
“I know this is going to be hard for yu to read”
and
“I have to leave.”
I slam a picture into the wall, breaking it against my hand and hear,
“Tom sez that Ty cant go”
and
“I am going to leave him here with yu.”
I bleed, and all I can think of is how she finished it, how she ended it all:
“Please dont try looking for me. Mom.”
I scream.
I’m eight and picking up empty beer cans.
I’m six and fall down, and she won’t kiss the scrape because it’s gross. I’m nine, and she says she can’t go to Parent Night at my school. I’m twelve, and she brings home a baby.
I’m fourteen, and she brings home some guy I’ve never seen before. I’m seventeen, and she leaves.
Im twenty-one, and she comes back.