T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 2 - Who We Are (27 page)

Ah. Now I get it. He wants to ask me for something. “Right. Unfair. Crazy. Therapy. Go on.”

“And you know how I’m nine and one-quarter, which is almost practically ten?”
“Tyson, the quicker you make your point, the quicker you’ll have my decision.”

“I can’t wait until I get a little brother,” he grumbles. “The hierarchy in this house will change, that’s for darn sure.”

Of course, he says this right when I’m taking a sip of coffee, which causes me to inhale and choke, and I spray it out of my nose and mouth back into my cup. I glare at the Kid as I wipe off my face, and he stares right back, as if in challenge. Nuh-uh. There’s no
way
I’m going to touch this one. First I have thoughts about…
marriage
(precipitated, of course, by Ty’s insistence and my apparent undying fantasy from hell to have a wedding on a beach—talk about lame) and now the Kid wants a baby
brother
? I can’t even be bothered to correct him that it wouldn’t be his brother, but a nephew, but the lines are so blurred about who we are, that I don’t think it matters. Not that it’s going to happen. What the
fuck
is going on in this house?

I turn to look at Otter for help, expecting to see him filled with the same incredulity as me, the same expression of unbridled horror, but it’s not there. Of course it’s not. What’s there is a thoughtful expression, one I don’t expect after hearing the Kid’s words. Otter’s watching Tyson, and he smiles quietly, but there’s something behind the gold-green, something that I can’t quite make out, whether by choice or not, I don’t know. He must feel my eyes on him because he turns to me and catches my eye, and I still don’t know what I’m looking at, but it scares the royal crap out of me. This is one thing that needs to be shelved for later. Quite possibly forever. I know we’ve been through a lot and that I’ve already bought my ticket to the forever train (metaphors are like crack—bet you can’t use it just once!), but that doesn’t mean I want to be traveling in the family cabin. Besides, how would we even
do
that? Would we like adopt an Asian baby like famous people do? Or would we find some woman to pump full of our little swimmers with a turkey baster (ugh, I can’t get that image out of my head)? Where do you find women to do that? Like on Craigslist, or something? I can see it already:

I need a woman to carry our juices!!!!
Hi! My name is Bear. I am a reluctant homosexual (or, at least, I resemble one). My boyfr—er, life partner (gag!), is apparently like a forty

year-old woman, and his biological clock is exploding all over the place, and we don’t know how to turn off the alarm. We need a woman (ha!) to allow us to put our sperm into her so that we can create the miracle that is life! You, as the surrogate,
must not be crazy
!!!!! Seriously, there is already enough of that with the donors, so to compound that would just make things worse, and the child will already have enough shit they’ll have to deal with by having two dads, so we’re asking for a complete mental health history to make sure you are not bat-shit insane. Also, dark hair would be nice.

No way in fucking hell. Otter can give me those sweet, innocent eyes until they fall out of his head. There’s no fucking way that’s going to happen. I’ve got enough to deal with, what with the smartest vegetarian ecoterrorist-in-training (although, he might well be heading to full-blown ecoterorrism by now) on the planet, and the fact that I seem to be thinking about where I’d like to go on a honeymoon (Stonehenge!) after a wedding to a man I’ve known all of my life, but have only been with for four months (Jesus Christ, what am I, a lesbian penguin?). I don’t care if the Kid wants a little brother. I’ll get him a goddamn goldfish instead, and he’ll be happy he’s getting
anything
.

“Clock,” I mutter at the both of them. “You’ll be happy with a fish, and I am
not
a penguin who goes to Stonehenge. Craigslist isn’t getting my juices, that’s for damn sure.”

Otter and the Kid glance at each other before the Kid says, “I don’t think even
I
could figure that one out.”

“Maybe you can buy penguins on Craigslist?” Otter suggests. “I don’t think they have a penguin section,” the Kid says wisely. “Ah,” Otter says.
“What were we even talking about?” the Kid asks.
“I never know,” Otter assures him.
“You were asking me something,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee

before remembering that it had come out of my nose and back into the cup. Dammit.

He flushes. “Oh, right.” The Kid takes a deep breath. “So I know you’re worried, and that makes me worried, and you want to be there for me, but Dominic asked me if I wanted to ride the bus to school with him today, and since the high school is right next to the elementary school, it’s all the same bus! And I’ve never really ridden the bus before, and I thought, what if the very first day of fifth grade is how the rest of my fifth grade will be defined, and shouldn’t I try to act like I fit in even though I really don’t? Most kids take the bus, and I think that if I don’t and you drop me off every day, people are going to think I’m too
good
to ride the bus, and then they’ll tell
everyone
I’m stuck up, and I’ll be a social pariah whose only redeeming quality is that I’ll do your homework for you if you let me eat lunch at the same table as you.”

“Thought that one out, did you?” I ask, amused and sad all at the same time.
“For
days
,” he laments. “Please, Papa Bear?
Pleeeeeeeease
?” Ah, Christ, he’s trying to give me Bambi eyes while sticking out his bottom lip. It’s an expression I’ve seen a billion times before, and I reprimand myself each time, telling myself that it’ll be the last time I fall for it.

Okay, so
next
time will be the last time I fall for it.

“Compromise,” I say. “Otter and me will drive both of you to school today. It’s your first day and all, and we want to be there, okay? Any day past today is open for discussion.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “I see your offer, and I’ll counter with allowing you to take us today if you’ll allow me at
least
two days a week to ride the bus.”

“We’ll agree,” Otter says, “
if
you don’t complain at
all
when we have to go to your first therapy appointment tomorrow. You have to give it a chance before you decide you hate it.”

He scowls at the both of us. “You two drive a hard bargain. I’ll say yes if you also give me five dollars.”

“For what?”
“None of your business.”
I pretend to think on it a moment. “Deal.”

The three of us shake on it and adjourn our breakfast meeting for the day.

D
OMINIC
looks wary but gets in Otter’s Jeep at the Kid’s insistence (as he also proudly proclaims he talked me out of five whole bucks, wasn’t that soooo awesome?), glancing over his shoulder at his front door a few houses down the road before climbing in. Otter reaches back and shakes his hand, and I smile at him. He mumbles hello, looking uncomfortable as he buckles the seat belt over his chest.

Otter and I had decided shortly after the social worker’s first visit that we’d see how it went with Dominic. I still found it slightly odd that he hung around Ty like he did (even though I’d done the same with Otter, as Georgia had so conveniently pointed out), and I was even more worried about how he would act now. While Georgia’s words had been encouraging, that he seemed to be opening up around Tyson more than anyone else, that still didn’t mean that he was in his right mind. Not that I’d blame him. I study him discreetly as he watches Ty (who’s babbling to him about how he hopes that the fifth grade will at least give him
some
kind of challenge) but I don’t know what I’m looking for. If you saw your mother murdered by your father in front of you, would you show it on your face years later? Would it be embedded in your skin like a memory that wouldn’t go away? How would it shape you as a person?

These are questions that Otter and I asked ourselves but had no answers to. We agreed to allow the Kid to see Dominic, as long as there was one of us around to keep an eye on things and to make sure Dominic didn’t see a pair of scissors he felt he needed to pick up. We’d snickered quietly at this, unable to stop ourselves, both of us blushing at the horror of it all. I wondered if I could do something like that, if the situation called for it. I’d only had to think for a moment about someone going after the Kid or Otter before some baser, more primal thing in me made me understand you’d bet your sweet fucking ass I would do the same. I assume most people would. If need be.

That doesn’t mean you’d stay sane, afterward. Even if you were a child when it happened.
I’m about to look ahead again when I hear the Kid confess quietly that he’s a bit nervous, that he’s worried he’ll get made fun of. I’m about to reassure him that he’ll be fine, that if anything goes wrong, he can call me immediately, when I’m stopped by Dominic’s low voice. He’s speaking to be heard over the noise of the Jeep, and I can make out his words, rough and worn. “You don’t need to be scared,” he says. “I’ll be right next door. If you need me, I’ll come running, okay?”

The Kid nods. Otter and I listen.

“Besides, don’t go thinking the worst in people, okay? They’ll probably be a little weirded out by you at first, and maybe a couple of people will say something to you, but it’s only because they’re jealous. You’re smarter than all the rest of them combined, and some people won’t get that. But I bet the rest think you’re the greatest thing they’ve ever seen. Just remember, though, you have any problems, you tell me, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. No one’s gonna say something while I’m around. I’m a big guy, okay?”

The Kid nods again, looking strangely relieved. Dominic smiles quietly at him and reaches up and pats Ty on the shoulder, once, twice, and then drops his big hand back down onto his lap. I try to ignore that burn of jealousy, so very different from what I’d experienced with Otter.
Who is this guy
? I ask myself yet again.
Who is this guy that can come in and do what’s taken others
years
to do? He’s mine! He’s mine, and you can’t take him away from me!

I feel shame at having such thoughts.

 

We drive the rest of the way in silence.

W
E PULL
up in front of Tyson’s school. I tell Dominic to sit tight for a moment, and we’ll drive him next door to the high school. He bumps fists with the Kid, who grins at him and jumps out, seemingly more calm than he’d been before. The Kid insists on walking in on his own (after all, he says, he
has
done this once or twice), and I almost argue with him, but Otter touches my hand gently and shakes his head. I put on a smile that feels tight and fake and wave at the Kid as he starts to walk away, getting lost in a crowd of other kids. I’ve turned back toward the Jeep when I’m tackled from behind, little arms going around my waist, a face pressed against the small of my back. I reach up and pat the Kid’s hands gently, and he spins me around and pulls me down by my hand, a vise grip on it.

“Can I call you on my lunch break?” he whispers in my ear, a furtive glance toward the car making me understand he doesn’t want his cool new best friend to overhear him. “Just to say hi?”

Ah, man. “You can,” I tell him softly. “Just as long as it’s not going to get you in trouble for using the phone. You call me for anything, you got me?”

He nods, playing with my fingers.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you in?”

The Kid takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I think I can do it. You think I’ll be okay?”

 

I smile at him, and he grins back at me. “I
know
you’ll be okay,” I tell him. “Even better than that.”

“Hey,” he says as he drops my hand.
“Hey, yourself,” I say back.
His eyes find mine, and he again proves he knows me better than I know

myself: “I love you, you know? Just because Dominic is here doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop needing you. I’ll
always
need you, Papa Bear, so don’t worry. Okay?”

Christ. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He watches me for a moment, making sure that I believe him, and then lets go of my hand, highfives a waiting Otter and turns back to wave at Dominic in the car.

And then he’s gone.
W
E
’
RE
pulling out of the parking lot and getting reading to head next door,
and I’m trying to think about what I want to say, if anything, to Dominic, when he decides for me: “I’m not going to hurt him.”

“What?” I say, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice. Otter reaches over and takes my hand in his, his fingers intertwining in mine, squeezing gently. He nods subtly at me, and I turn back to look at Dominic, whose dark eyes are waiting for me.

“That’s what you’re thinking,” he rumbles. “You’re wondering if I’m going to hurt him.”

“That’s not—” I start, but then I stop myself. Anything further would be a lie. He knows it, I know it. He’s probably expecting it. How many people would lie to his face? How many would tell him that of
course
they don’t believe that, that of
course
they trust him, how could they not? Those same people are the ones that are probably the most afraid of him. I need him to know I’m not afraid of him. “Can you be sure?” I ask, changing tact.

He looks momentarily surprised at my boldness, but quickly covers it up under that hard exterior of his. He looks out the window while we wait for the light to change. It’s starting to rain a light mist. Otter flips on the windshield wipers, and they brush back and forth.

“Yes,” Dominic finally says. “I would never hurt him. Although, I could see why you’d think so. Georgia told you what happened?”
“She did,” Otter confirms, his voice stern. “But I would have recognized your name, so don’t be mad at her.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not mad at her. She was right to tell you.” Another thought takes over my mind. “You haven’t told Tyson, have you?”

“No,” he says roughly. “He doesn’t need to hear about that. He’s just a little guy, you know?”
I nod because I
do
know. I nod because I think the same thing. I nod because I feel a guilty relief that Dominic has not shared his darkness with my little brother, and it’s the only thing I can do without actually saying those hurtful words out loud.