T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 1 - Bear, Otter, and the Kid (43 page)

BOOK: T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 1 - Bear, Otter, and the Kid
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Theyre all shouting something, but I dont care. I throw my car into reverse and bounce over the curb again. Somehow, I dont hit anyone or anything. I look up and see Otter moving toward me so I floor it and get the fuck out of there.

But even I cant resist: I look in my rearview mirror and see Otter tearing after me, sprinting down the dark street.

I go faster.
M
INUTES
later, my phone vibrates. A missed call from Creed. I have one new message and one saved message. Creeds message is from before I arrived at the party. “Hey, dude, dont kill yourself trying to get over here. Anna thinks I may have freaked out too much. Besides, I think one of his friends just showed up. I dont know who. I told him where Otters room was but that he had to make it quick because you were on your way and that it was kind of important that you speak to him as soon as possible. If I dont see you when you get here, just know that I will be around. Always.”

T
HE
second message is one that I have saved for weeks. Its Otter, and he simply says, “I love you.”

I
PARK
somewhere. I dont know where. I pull out my phone and call Mrs. Paquinn. They havent gotten to her yet.
“Howd it go, dear?” she asks excitedly.
“Fine,” I say brightly. Too bright, but she doesnt notice. “Is the Kid
okay?”

“Hes fine. Still asleep. Hasnt woken up since you left.”

“I dont know if I am going to make it home tonight,” I say evenly. “Is it okay if Tyson crashes with you? Ill be home early, hopefully before he wakes up.”

She laughs. “Of course. If he gets up before you are here, Ill let him know where youre at and have him call you.”
“Thanks,” I say, my voice wavering.
She hears it. “Bear, is everything okay?”
“Its fine.” I hear her phone click.
“Bear, Ive got another call coming in, but I dont know who that would be at this hour. You have fun tonight, okay? Be careful and give Otter my love.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I hang up the phone and let the waves crash over me.
M
OMENTS
later, I look up. I hear the ocean, and I know that its not just in my head. I get out of the car and moan softly as, in my infinite wisdom under the duress of a psychological breakdown, I see that Ive driven myself to the beach. Our beach. The one where I had first told Otter that I loved him. Its after midnight, so theres no one here. Im alone. I dont have anywhere else to go, so I guess it doesnt matter.
I take off my shoes and walk into the sand, feeling it part and shift beneath my feet. The tide is in, and I see that where I had set up my little table, my little surprise for Otter, is completely under water. The cool water laps at my feet, and I sit down at the edge, feeling the salt against my ankles.
My phone rings.
Otter
. Ignore.
My phone rings.
Creed
. Ignore.
My phone rings.
Anna
. Ignore.
Mrs. Paquinn
.
Otter
.
Otter
.
Creed
.
Anna
.
Otter
. It rings again and again.
I want to shut it off, but I cant. Not if Tyson needs me.
So I shut myself off.
I lay back into the sand, the crest of the waves whispering at my back. I feel like Im floating. The moon is bright and the stars are cold, ice chips waiting for the world to stop spinning. But it feels okay, drifting like this.
It
wants to speak, to tell me that I overreacted, that I had no right to behave the way I did. I push it away, and it floats out to sea. Its better not to have to think right now.
My phone beeps. Message. Message
s
.
I lift it calmly and press it against my ear.
Otter:
Creed told me everything, you fucking asshole,
he says, his voice thick and angry.
Oh God, he told me everything. He told me why. He told me what you were coming here to do. I didn’t know Jonah was going to be here! He just showed up out of nowhere. If you don’t pick up the goddamn phone, I swear to God I’m going to kill you.
His voice. His words. They go out to sea too.
Creed:
PICK UP YOUR FUCKING PHONE! How dare you run out like that! After all we’ve said to each other over the past week, how fucking dare you! PICK UP YOUR PHONE!
Anna:
Bear, we’re all freaking out now. Creed and Otter are losing their minds, and I think I am too. I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. Please. Call one of us back and tell us where you are.
Mrs. Paquinn:
Oh, my sweet child. You should have just told me. You need to call me back. I don’t want you to be by yourself right now. Don’t let Tyson find out this way.
Otter:
We’re going over to your house. You have to be there. You just have to.
Otter:
Please. Bear. Please pick up.
All go out to sea where we all drift away.

M
Y BACK
is grainy. I am cold. There are more phone calls. I ignore them. There are more messages, but I just delete them.

T
HE
sun breaks over the curve of the water when the Kid walks down onto the beach. At first I think he is part of a dream, that he will be swallowed up by the ocean as well, but then he leans forward and brushes his hands through my hair, and he feels so alive.

“How?” I ask.

He snorts. “It wasnt that hard to figure out where you would be. Im surprised that no one else knew.”
I sit up, feeling sand caked against my back. He watches me with those eyes, those knowing, intelligent eyes. I dont look around because I know he couldnt have come alone. But I cant feel anyone else on the beach, so I know its just us. For now.
“Why didnt you come home?” he asks.
I shrug. “I couldnt.”
He shakes his head and crawls into my lap. Hes still wearing his pajamas, and I dont want him to get wet, but he ignores my protests and lays against me.
We are quiet for a few moments. Then, “Do you trust me?”
I look down at him in surprise. “Always.”
“Do you remember when I said that I was just a little guy, that I couldnt take care of you by myself?”
I nod.
He leans back and puts his hands on my face. “Do you trust me to take care of you?”
I cant help it: I crush him into me, feeling his warmth. “I know I messed up, Kid.”
He laughs softly. “You did. But youre lucky to have someone like me who can tell you that.”

“They lied to me.”
“Anna and Creed?”
I nod.
“They didnt lie to you about anything. You never asked. They just

chose not to tell you. Not until they were comfortable with telling everyone. Sound familiar?”

 

“But—”

He shakes his head again. “Theres no way around it, Papa Bear. They did the exact same thing you did. And you remember how that turned out, right? They all stood by you, no matter what.”

I hang my head.
“I may not be the biggest Kid in the world, and I may not be the smartest, and I may not have been around to learn everything there is to

know, but I do know this: people in love do the stupidest things. You should know that better than anyone. After all, youve been lucky to love two people who loved you back. But you walked away from Otter. Twice. Without giving him a chance either time. How fair is that?”

Theres no point in disagreeing with him. So I dont.

“You have so many great people in your life, people who are willing to do anything for you.” His voice begins to take on heat. “They bend over backwards for you, and all you can do is push them away. How long is it going to be until you push me away?”

My eyes snap shut. “I would
never
—”

“You say that now,” he shouts at me, spitting venom, surprising me with his anger, “but I wouldve thought you would never push anyone else close to us away, either! How can I be expected to take care of you if you wont even take care of yourself?”

I say nothing.
The little Kid in my lap continues: “Were only given so many people in our lives, so many people that will love us unconditionally. Why do you

think that is?
I
think its because of times like this, times when you think they are gone and you see just how big of a hole in your heart that you have. And its big, isnt it, Bear? Were all a puzzle and when one of us is gone, that piece is missing, and were incomplete. You above all others should have realized that.

“You have a chance, a chance to make something for yourself, something that is just for you, but that you can share with the rest of the world. How
dare
you throw it back in our faces.”

The Kid suddenly stands before me, and its like hes ten feet tall. His eyes blaze, his jaw set, and I think how much he looks like me. He really is mine. “The Bear I know wouldnt let this happen. The Bear I know would kick and scream and claw his way to protect whats his. The Bear I know would fight. And fight. And fight until he had nothing left in him, because the Bear I know would never give up.”

“I punched Jonah in the face,” I say stupidly.

The Kid snickers. “I know. Otter told me. I meant figuratively, you dumbass. You probably shouldnt be punching anyone. You know why?”
I shake my head, and he leans down, pressing his lips against my cheek. “Because youre just a little guy,” he says, “and you need all of us to help fight for you. Let us do this, at least this once.”
I look up at him. “Can I do this?” I ask, hoping.

He, whos great and wise and kind, tells me I can.

I look past him, at the ocean and the sun and the waves. Theres no argument against any of his words. And I know, as Ive always known, that when my nine-year-old vegetarian ecoterrorist-in-training tells me to do something, I better goddamn do it.

I raise my hands to him, and he pulls me up. I hug him to my side and marvel how his head barely reaches my stomach. “Id be lost without you,” I say truthfully.

He laughs. “Duh.”
I look up the sandy dune to the parking lot and see only my car. “Did you walk here?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “They all drove me. Everyone wanted to get out and run down to you, but I told them to go home. To just let me go. That sometimes, what needs to be said should just be between brothers.”

“Where do we go from here?” I ask, meaning now, meaning forever. The Kid looks up at me and dazzles me yet again: “We go home, Papa

Bear. Theyre waiting for us.”
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
T
HE
drive is quiet. The Kid holds my hand, playing with my fingers. I think

everything that needs to be said between us has been said, but then I hear him mumbling something to himself as he looks out the window. When I hear the words, I grin:

Otter! Otter! Otter!
Don’t lead cows to slaughter!
I love you and I know
I should’ve told you soon-a
But you didn’t buy the dolphin-safe tuna!
Now
everythings been said.

W
E WALK
up the stairs to my apartment, the Kid leading me by the hand. He takes his house key from its hiding place in his underwear (“Pajamas dont have pockets, Bear, so stop laughing!”) and puts it in the lock. The tumblers click and snap, and the key twists. The door opens, and the Kid pulls me inside.

Instantly, theres a stampede from the living room as our family crowds into the hallway, led by Otter. He sees us standing in the doorway and hesitates. Anna, Creed, and Mrs. Paquinn peer over his shoulder. We all stand for a moment, staring at each other. It should be awkward, but its not. I drink my fill of them, of him. His chest rises rapidly and falls as he breathes. The hard planes of his pectorals stretch the fabric of his shirt alarmingly. His arms are bunched up massively as he crosses them over his front. His mouth is set. His nose is flaring, his forehead creased, but his eyes, his eyes are the same. I think they always will be.

“Im sorry,” I say, not taking my eyes off of him, somehow knowing that if I do, hell disappear, and Ill realize that this was all just a dream. I try to make my voice steady, but its been too long of a night for that to ever happen. It wavers slightly, and something inside Otter snaps, and he rushes forward, the determination never leaving his eyes, and I know somehow that he is going to wrap me in his arms and what needs to be said wont be. I raise my hand to block him and step back. I hope to God I wont ever have to see that look in his eyes again, the one he is giving me now as he stops. “Not… not yet, Otter. I need to talk to all of you first. Then… then we can see.”

He nods tightly and spins around, pushing everyone into the living room. The Kid drags me by the arm, and surprise, surprise, it just so happens that the only available seat left is right next to Otter. The Kid looks at me expectantly and jerks his chin toward the empty seat. He lets me go and goes to sit on Creeds lap.

I move carefully, calculating the number of steps it takes me to reach Otter. Seven. It takes me three seconds to turn and sit down. I pop my knuckles four times. I count to ten in my head. It takes me twelve seconds to think about what to say, five more to realize again I wont have any control over it, seventeen seconds to argue with myself, ten to shut off the voices in my head, and by then a full minute has gone by in utter silence. If someone was watching this without knowing what was going on, they would probably think we were mimes that didnt do mime stuff. Just sad, sad mimes—

Mrs. Paquinn finally acts like Mrs. Paquinn and interrupts my intelligent internal monologue by saying, “Bear, I think having sand in your butt crack must be really uncomfortable. Maybe you should go change your clothes. You dont want to catch sand crabs. Whats the point of getting crabs when you werent having any fun doing it?”

“Sand crabs?” I spit out.

“Sand crabs,” she repeats. “I can just imagine that the rest of the day wont go well for you when you have to go to the doctor and explain how you got a sexually transmitted disease without actually being sexually active.”

“Is it considered an STD if theyre sand crabs?” Creed muses out loud. “Oh yes,” Mrs. Paquinn replies. “I should think thats a real thing, but I cant say for sure because I would be lying. But it seems to me that it certainly
sounds
like a real thing, doesnt it?”
“You can get crabs from a toilet seat,” the Kid adds. “MSNBC did this black-light thing in hotel rooms, and it showed crabs in the bathroom and ejaculate on the ceiling.”
Is this really happening?
“My goodness,” Mrs. Paquinn breathes. “How did it get all the way up there?”
“The crabs?” Anna jumps in. “Well, Im pretty sure they can jump off of you—”
“No, dear,” Mrs. Paquinn interrupts. “The ejaculate on the ceiling. That just doesnt seem humanly possible. Ive never known a man to be able to do that. Not that Ive had too much experience in the matter. My Joseph, God love him, wasnt capable of quite the superhuman feat himself.”
“I dont know,” the Kid says with a shrug, his forehead scrunched in deep concentration. “They never said how it got there. Whats ejaculate, anyways? They didnt explain, but I want to know why it glowed in the black light.”
Mrs. Paquinn shifts her weight to turn toward the Kid. “Well, Tyson, when a man and a woman—or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, but I dont think that works quite the same way—love each other very much and decide to have relations, ejaculate is what comes out and makes babies. Well, it makes babies if you are a man and a woman. If its just two men, I would assume all it makes is a mess.” She peers at Otter and me for clarification. We give none.
“Oh,” the Kid says. “So does spanking and fisting make babies too? I mean, if its a man and a woman?”
I choke on my tongue.
Mrs. Paquinn looks stern. “I wouldnt know anything about that. My Joseph, God love him, was never into that kind of thing. He was very
vanilla
, as I believe they say these days.”
“Vanilla?” the Kid asks. “I tried vanilla soy ice cream once, and it was gross. Even for soy ice cream.”
Creed laughs. “I think its not the vanilla part of it, Kid. All soy ice cream is gross.”
The Kid shoots him an evil look. “You say that, but I bet its just your veal-induced guilt talking.”
“Veal is cow, Kid,” Creed argues. “What good are cows if we cant eat them?”
“Veal is baby cows! Why would you eat baby
anything
?”
“Veal is baby cow?” Creed asks, looking slightly green and horrified. “How in Gods name did I not know that?”
Anna pats his arm. I watch them closely as she says, “I think theres a lot about a lot of things you dont know.”
“Its okay, Anna,” the Kid says, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “I have some literature that Creed can take with him and read. Its life-changing.”
Mrs. Paquinn sniffs. “I dont eat veal either because I just feel so guilty picturing their little faces every time. But Ill have a steak every now and then. No one thinks grown-up cows are cute.”
“Is veal really baby cows?” Creed whispers.

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