“Are you in love with him?”
Oh God, oh my God. Bear….
“No!” I shout.
“You’re… lying.”
The plates shift, the earth moves.
How did we get here? I think, my mind all hot and panicky. How the hell did we get to this point? How could I have ever let it get so far?
She glares at me, then hangs her head. “You know,” she says, chuckling bitterly to herself, “for the longest time I thought it was Otter that had done something to you, but now… now I don’t know. I never thought it would come to this. I always thought that we would….”
My heart pounds in my ears. “Nothing happened,” I say hoarsely, hating how false I sound, even to myself. “Nothing happened.”
“Oh, Bear,” she says, raising her hand to her cover her mouth as she begins to sob quietly. “Oh, Bear,” she says again, and I can hear it in her voice, and this finally breaks down all the walls I have hastily constructed since we stepped onto the balcony. I rush to her and wrap my arms around her and hug her close and bury my face in her hair.
“Please,” I beg. “Please. God, please.”
She slides away from me, saying, “No, Bear, no,” and those words are like a dagger through my heart. I can feel her pulling away from me, feel her retreating, and fear smashes through me, glassy and sharp. I mutter please over and over and over again and try to grab her hands, her arms, her shoulders, anything to bring her back to me, but she tells me no, no, no, and I can see she’s going to leave me, just like everyone else has ever done. It is happening now, and she is going to leave me now, and I will be alone forever because one day I know Ty is going to leave me, too, because everyone… always… leaves.
She chokes back further tears and pushes me away again, and I collapse against the wall and hug myself, trying to feel anything other than this pain. She steps back and wipes her eyes and brushes her hair out of her face.
“So, that’s it?” I gasp out. “You’re going to leave me too? Just like that? I’ve chased you away just like everyone else.”
She appears startled for a moment, and I see recognition on her face, and I sense a sliver of hope as she walks over to me and puts her hand on my arm. But her words cut through this.
“Bear, I will never leave you or Ty. I will never be like her. But… it is… it’s not going to be like it was anymore. You will always… have me as a part of your life. Just not like this. Never like this again.”
“Why?” I moan.
“Bear, you… you have to figure it out for yourself.” She leans against me, and I put my arms around her and cry into her hair.
“I don’t know if I can do this without you,” I sob.
She rubs the small of my back. “You won’t have to. It’s going to be different, but I will never abandon you.” She grips me tight and whispers fiercely into my ear, “Ever. Do you hear me, Derrick McKenna? Ever. I do love you. You’ve broken my heart, but it was mine to give.”
Then she’s gone.
I hear the door shut as she leaves the apartment, and her sobs renew as she runs down the stairs. I stagger inside and fall to my knees on the ground and lean forward and press my face into my hands and shake as an earthquake racks my body, my heart, my soul.
SOMETIME later—I don’t know how long—there’s a knock at my door. I rub my face and jump to my feet and rush to the door.
It’s Otter.
“Hey,” I say, sniffling.
“Hey, yourself,” he says back, worry marring his face. “Anna called me.”
“She… Otter… I… I—”
I don’t know what she has said to him or what I’m trying to say, but I don’t care because Otter suddenly fills the world, and he’s all I can see, and he enfolds me into him protectively, shielding me while I split and shatter and fall into myself. And even if he’s not there to pick up the pieces later, I will always remember that he has at least given me this moment, this moment to break.
I WAKE, my face feeling stiff and cracked. I’d been dreaming, but for once in a very long time I can’t remember what it was about. I don’t know what that means.
I squint my eyes open, and I see that I’m on the couch in my living room, covered in a blanket. I start to wonder what I’m doing here when the previous night comes washing back over me, and I groan. My mouth tastes horrible, and my head has a spike running through it. My clothes feel stiff against my body. I sit up and the motion is enough to make me gag. I still for a moment, waiting for the waves of dizziness to subside.
So just what are you going to do now? the voice whispers jauntily. Look at you. You’re pathetic.
“Leave me alone,” I spit through gritted teeth. “Just leave me the hell alone.”
Why? A conscience is never supposed to go away just because you want it to. That would just make things too easy. How could you ever learn anything that way? Oh, Bear, this is just going to be so much fun!
“Please,” I whisper.
Grow the fuck up, it says coldly. You’ve gotten this far with people shitting everywhere you walk. It’s time to grow up and stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Oh, I’m Bear. Listen to me. I’m so full of angst! Whatever shall I do? Life is so HARD! It laughs. Blah, blah, blah. At least he has the balls to say what he feels. At least Otter—
Otter.
I look wildly around the living room, but I’m alone. I jump up and throw open the curtains that I don’t remember shutting and see that it is way too bright outside for it to be early morning. Shit. I run to my bedroom, yelling for Ty to wake the hell up because we are late. I throw open the bedroom door, already planning in my head how we need to get him up now and brush his teeth (no time for a shower) and there should be something clean for him to wear in the closet….
But there’s no one there.
I go to the kitchen and no one is there, either, and I start to become unnerved when I see a note on the kitchen table with a familiar scrawl:
Bear,
You needed to sleep more. I got Ty up and ready for school and will drop him off. Don’t worry about work. I called in and pretended to be you, and now apparently you’re down with the flu. It seems I can do a good Sick Bear impression. Remind me to show you later.
Anyways, I’m going to go home afterward and try to get some sleep. Make sure you call me as soon as you wake up. I’m worried about you, Papa Bear.
Otter
P.S. Ty’s been awake for ten minutes and already he’s told me about the Amazing PETA People. Why the hell do you let him watch that kind of stuff?
My faces splits, and I know it’s because I’m smiling.
This realization wipes it away.
I stand in the shower for a good thirty minutes, alternating between hot and cold because I’m either sweating or shivering, and I think maybe I am getting sick. When I can no longer take the water rushing on my body, I get out, wrapping a towel around my waist. I wipe the condensation of the mirror and stare at my reflection. I look pale and wan. My eyes are bruised and my lips cracked.
No wonder she broke up with me, I think, half-crazy. I look like a meth addict.
It tries to rise again, that feeling of despair, and I almost let it. It’s so much easier to feel sorry for yourself. I should know, I’ve done my fair share of it. I think I have it in check when just a shard slips through, and I see the lip of my reflection quiver slightly. I grip the edges of the sink and will myself to stop, to just fucking stop already. My reflection seems to listen as I glare at it. Its lip stops quivering, and its chest stops heaving, and blood starts to warm its cheeks. There, I think. There, see? See? I can do this. I can do this. I leave the bathroom, starting to feel better. It doesn’t last long.
I try to rub my arms, but I still feel cold
I dress, but nothing I put on fits right.
I try and eat, but all the food tastes like sawdust.
I turn on the TV, but the lights and noise hurt my head.
I pace around the living room.
br /> I pace in the kitchen.
I pace in the living room again.
I grab my car keys.
I get in my car.
I drive and drive and drive, and I think I’m going to leave.
I think I’m going to leave and not look back.
It would be easier.
Ten minutes later, I become aware of my surroundings and see that I’m on a street I recognize, a street I know all too well. I try and stop myself, but I’m on autopilot. There is a pleasant buzzing in my head, and it’s like there’s cotton in my ears because everything is muted. I turn on the street where, when I was ten, I fell off my bike and scraped my knee. I pass the house where, when I was twelve, Creed and I had stolen a lawn gnome. I sail by a parking lot where, when I was fifteen, Mr. Thompson had taught me how to drive. I pull into a driveway that I’ve pulled into countless times before. I walk up a stone pathway that used to be covered in grass. I ring a doorbell that still surprises me as it sounds like my own. Nothing happens. I ring it again. And again. And again. I ring it until I hear a padding of feet, and then he opens the door, and it’s like I’m eight again, and it’s like he’s sixteen again, and I want to ask him if Creed’s home because I have come to stay the night, but I am afraid I’ll shatter like glass. I stare at him and he stares at me, and finally I say, “I didn’t know where else to go,” and he steps back, and I walk past him into a house that I used to think of as a safe haven. I walk up the stairs, and I hear him following me. I beg him silently not to speak, and he doesn’t. That’s good because if he spoke, autopilot would disengage and reality would set in. I see his door, and even though it no longer has a sign that says to Keep Out, that it’s Otter’s Room, I know it’s Otter’s room.
I open the door and the bed is disheveled, and I know he was asleep. I sit down on the edge and take of my shoes, and I crawl up into the bed, pulling the covers up and over me, making a cave where a Bear can sleep. I am so tired, and I can barely keep my eyes open when I feel the bed dip carefully, and I know he is climbing back in. I lift up the covers so he can come into the cave. He crawls underneath and lies on his side, his eyes heavy with something that I can’t quite make out, and he folds his arms around his front, laying his head upon his hands. I let the covers fall gently back down, and it gets dark in the Cave of Otter and Bear, but not so very dark that I can’t still make out his eyes, his nose, his lips. My hand reaches out on its own accord and touches his cheek gently. It’s stubbly, and he holds his breath, and I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I am. He grabs my hand and holds it between his. He’s about to say something, but I shake my head because I don’t want to hear a single word. I turn and lie on my side, matching his position, and draw my knees up to my chest and they bump his, and that’s where I leave them. I watch Otter watching me, and he still holds my hand, and I don’t draw it away. That’s how I stay until finally, inevitably, I fall asleep.
WHEN I wake, the sun is pouring in through the window above the bed. I stretch and look over at the other side of the bed, slight apprehension coursing through my body. It’s empty. I breathe a quick sigh of relief and immediately feel guilty. I roll over and grab the pillow and hug it against myself.
What am I doing here? I think. I just broke up with the only person I thought I could be with forever. And here I am, doing… what am I doing? This isn’t right. This isn’t who I am supposed to be.
How do you know? it whispers back. If you would allow yourself to think clearly for one single moment, you would know. You would know everything you have been trying not to be.
I hug the pillow tighter and the door opens.
“Good,” Otter says cheerfully. “You’re awake. I thought I was going to have to drag you out of bed to wake you up.”
I scamper up quickly against the headboard and hug the pillow to my chest. I look warily at Otter. He stands against the doorway, arms across his chest, leaning against the door jam. His short blond hair sticks out in different directions, and his green eyes sparkle, and his grin is as crooked as I’ve ever seen it. I start to feel tightness in my chest and loins, and I squeeze the pillow tighter. His long legs are clad in loose black sweats, and his white tank top shows off a tan I could never have. His arms look strong pressed against his trim body. I forcibly look away, trying to focus my ministrations elsewhere. I hear him chuckle to himself quietly.
“What?” I say, the word coming out more harshly than I intend.
“Your hair looks hilarious.”
I scowl and frantically start brushing it down. “Yours doesn’t look any better,” I retort.
“Ah, Bear after he just wakes up. I almost forgot how fun it is.”
“Shut up, Otter,” I say as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and plant my feet on the floor. Before I can move any further, Otter is standing in front of me, hunkering down and sitting on the heels of his feet.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey, yourself,” I mumble back.
He reaches out and touches my arm gently, and for a moment, I let his hand rest there. For a moment, I almost forget who I really am and can only focus on how good his touch feels. I pull my arm away and look over his head and hear him sigh.
“Bear,” he says.
“What, Otter?”
He stands up and takes a step back. “It’s almost time to pick up the Kid from school. I told him you would be there when he got off.”
I stand up quickly, fishing my keys out of my pocket, relieved at the excuse I now have. I start automatically for the door and only stop when he says my name again. I don’t want to turn around, not really, but I do, and he’s standing in the same spot he’d been in.
“I promised Ty I’d try making him a tofu lasagna tonight,” he says. “I don’t know how good it’ll be, but I said he could hang out here tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
I nod my head jerkily. “That’s fine. I can drop him off.”
He grins knowingly. “Nice try, Papa Bear. You’re not getting off the hook that easily. You’ve got to help me make it.”
“Otter, I don’t know.”
“I know you don’t,” he says softly. “Bear, I don’t know what happened between you and Anna, but I don’t think that you should be by yourself right now. You’re eventually going to want to talk about it. I think it’s better for you to be here.”
With you, I think as I start to fidget and play with my keys. “I’ll think about it, Otter. Okay?”
“Bear,” he says in that voice of his, that warning voice that drives me fucking crazy.
“Please, Otter,” I whisper. “Just… just take it slow with me, okay? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing right now, and I just need you… to just… I don’t know.”
He walks over and stands in front of me and, even though I hate myself for doing it, I flinch and take a step back. I’m almost out the door when he grabs both my shoulders, and I can’t help but look up at him and what I see, the regard in his eyes, almost knocks me on my back. No one ever looks at anyone like this. It’s never supposed to be like this. It can’t be real.
“Bear,” he says evenly. “You have to believe that I don’t know what’s going on here, either. I’m just trying to be your friend.” He smiles sadly at me. “Can you trust me to do that?”
It’s strange. It’s strange because I can. I nod, my eyes wide.
“Okay, then,” he says and turns around and goes to his desk and starts fiddling with a camera that is splayed out in pieces across the table.
I’m about to leave, but that buzzing picks up again, starting in my toes and working its way up through until I can feel it in my ears. Suddenly I’m behind him, and I circle my arms around his waist and lay my head on his back. He starts, but only for a moment. He slowly, carefully, leans back into me and brings his hands up and pats mine gently. I take a deep breath, and he smells like Otter, a smell that hasn’t changed since the first time I met him.
I pull away and walk out of the room, my mind ablaze.
6.
Where Bear Hears a Story
and Makes a Decision
“HIYA, Bear!” Ty shouts as I pull up in front of the school. He says good-bye to some of his friends and tramples his way through the crowd. I grin as he almost knocks a girl down that he seems to go out of his way to walk near. I think of how Creed had kicked Suzy March in the stomach. I wonder if this little girl was at his party.
“Hey, Kid. What’s the word?” I ask.
He grins at me. “I’m glad it’s the weekend. I’ve had the longest week ever.” I burst out laughing because he sounds like a forty-five-year-old businessman.
“You’re telling me,” I agree. “I’m glad it’s the weekend too.” He waves at some of his friends still standing at the front of the school. The little girl turns and waves brightly at him, and he scowls and turns to face the front.
“So who’s that?” I ask casually.
“Who’s who?” he says, dancing around the question.
I look pointedly at him. “That lovely young dame that you seem so very fond of.”
The Kid frowns at me. “You mean Amy?” He makes a rude noise and suddenly sounds like a nine-year-old again. “She’s nobody.”
“Is she in your class?” I ask, trying to keep my mirth from rising.
“No. She’s in a grade above me.”
“Oh. So she’s older.”
“I guess. Why are you asking about her?”
I shrug. “She seems nice. Was she at your birthday party?”
“No. I didn’t invite her.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because!” he sputters. “She’s… mean and… I just don’t like her!”
“She’s mean to you? Do you need me to talk to her teacher?” I say, keeping a straight face.
The Kid pales. “No,” he says hastily. “I think I can handle it.”
“I bet you can.”
He glares up at me. “Are you making fun of me?”