T.J. Klune - Bear, Otter, and the Kid 1 - Bear, Otter, and the Kid (37 page)

Oh, Bear.
You did this.

 

S
OMEWHERE
, a phone rings.

There is a moment of deceptive clarity, those few precious seconds between waking and awake where everything is right, everything is okay, because the slate is clean. The world makes sense because its not a place with hurt and anger. Its just blank, a perfectly imperfect sane insanity. Then logic sets in, synapses fire, muscles spasm, the heart makes itself known as blood vessels and veins constrict and contract, and I remember everything. My eyes are tacky and crass. My throat feels like I swallowed gunpowder, my head the victim of a hangover from alcohol I never drank. I force my eyes open.

Im still in the bathtub. Alone.
The phone rings again, and I hit my head on the soap dish on the wall as I try to move to pull it from my pocket. I cringe, and my finger bends

painfully as its stuck in denim. My ankle is on fire. I curse and yank the phone from my pocket, the ones and zeros of the display saying
Anna. Anna. Anna.
I hit ignore. Its so much nicer to be able to hit ignore rather than having to ignore a ringing phone.

“Tyson?” I rust out. The bathroom is semi-dark, the door propped open slightly, and sunlight spills in through the crack, illuminating a toothbrush. I pull myself up slowly, discovering quickly why people dont spend the night sleeping on porcelain. I open the bathroom door, squinting at the light. It looks like morning. “Kid?” I say, a little louder this time. No response.

I ignore the way my heart picks up speed, skipping here and there. I go down the hall to our bedroom. Empty. Hers too. I check the kitchen. The living room. The balcony. I check the closets, the cabinets. Under the table, over the table. “Tyson?”

My phone rings again.
Anna.

I run to the front door and open it, stepping out into the cool morning air, and look around wildly. Someone laughs. A truck drives by. Theres a TV playing somewhere close. A siren. A dog barks. A sneeze and a horn. This morning sounds normal. Its a lie. I pound on the door next to mine. Nothing. I pound again.

It opens slightly, Mrs. Paquinns eye peering out. It widens when it sees me, and she opens the door fully. One hand is clutching her robe at the neck. “Bear?”

“Is he here?” I say, shattered. “Is Tyson in there with you?
Kid
!” I shout past her.
She shakes her head. “Bear, hes not here. I havent seen him since I left him with you last night.”

“Hes—hes gone?” I tell her or ask her. I dont know which. “I cant find….”

She steps forward and pulls me into her arms, but I take the path of most resistance and stand rigid in her arms.
This is no time for hugging
, I think.
Hugging time is not now.

“Dont you worry, dear. Well find him. He cant have gone far.” And with that, I cant stand on my own anymore, and I fall forward. Shes tiny, but strong, so much stronger than she looks. I clutch at her, and she pats the back of my head. She smells like an old lady should, dusty flowers and old wrapped butterscotch candies.

I cant help myself as I being to wonder about this woman. This tiny woman who has been front row for the drama of her next-door neighbors for the past three years. This woman who would seemingly drop everything if I needed her to watch Tyson. Questions rise randomly in my mind, shaming me that I dont know the answers. How did her husband (Gerald? Jonathan?) die? Why doesnt she have kids? Why does she do what she does for me? What in Gods name possesses this woman to stand here in this early morning, holding onto me while I melt down, while the chemical cocktail that is my being gets shaken and stirred? And then, all of thats gone in a flash when my true fear comes to the surface, something I have been scrambling with since I first called out my little brothers name.

“What if
she
took him?” I moan.

She pushes me back and clutches my face in her hands, her eyes fire, her voice frozen steel: “Then we will fight like hell to get him back. No matter what it takes.”

My phone rings again.
Anna.
Jesus fucking Christ.

Mrs. Paquinn drops her arms as I connect the call. “Anna, nows not the time,” I say harshly. “Tys—”
“Here with me,” she interrupts. “Bear, whats going on? He was pounding on my door, and Creeds saying your mom was there?”
“Hes… what?” I look helplessly at Mrs. Paquinn. She steps up and takes the phone from my hand.

“Anna? Its Mrs. Paquinn. Fine, dear, thank you for asking. Tyson? Uhhuh. Uh-huh. No, I dont know what thats about. No. No. Just as long as hes safe. Uh-huh. Bear will be fine. He just had a bit of a scare. No, Ill drive him over. I dont think he should be operating a vehicle at the moment. Okay, now. Bye-bye.” She flips the phone closed and hands it back to me.

“Hes with Anna?” I brilliantly deduce.

She nods. “Apparently he showed up this morning, banging on her door. She has him safe and sound. Now go close your door, and well get you to

him.” She reaches back into her apartment and grabs car keys off the little table near the entrance. When she turns back around, she sees I havent moved. “Derrick, now.”

I shut the door, and she takes my hand and pulls me down the stairs. Its so bright outside. I try to gather my senses, try to regain control.
He’s safe
, I tell myself.
He hasn’t been taken. He’s safe.
The bigger questions try to crowd in, like why would he go to Anna, and why had she already known about what had happened from Creed. I cant answer those right now, so I push them away.

“We can take my car,” I mumble as she jerks me around the corner to the parking lot.

She sniffs delicately. “Thats sweet of you, but there is no way I am getting in that death trap of yours. I get upset every time I see you and Tyson get in to go someplace because I know that you are going to be driving home one day, and it will catch on fire.”

I dont think Im right in the head yet because I cant understand what she means. “Fire?”

“Fire,” she agrees. “No, we can take my car. My husband bought me this car shortly before he passed, God love him. We never really had nice things, not that those things are ever really important. But one day he drove home in this big beautiful car with a smile on his face like Id never seen. He told me that, regardless of whatever happened to him, he would go knowing he got to drive me around like a princess.”

“But isnt your car a piece of shi—”
“You hush your mouth, Derrick McKenna! Youre not too old to have it washed out with a bar of soap.” Her eyes flash in my direction, and I see the smile lurking behind the lines of her face.
“Yes, maam.”

We round the last corner and she jingles her keys as we walk up to her early-eighties Caddy. Its built like a brick shithouse and colored to match. She walks over to the passenger side and unlocks the door, opening it and waiting for me to get in. I sigh and try to think if Ive ever driven with her anywhere. I ignore every story Ive ever heard of an old driver barreling through a crowded marketplace. I sit down, a thin cloud of dust springing up around me as my ass bounces in the seat. She slams the door and walks around the front of the car. Her shoulders are almost as high as the hood of the Caddy. I think this maybe is a bad idea, but her threat of soapy waterboarding quells any retort I may have. She gets in the car, and I stare because her head barely clears the steering wheel.

She grins at me and pulls the seat forward, smashing her chest into the horn, which gives an angry gasp. She giggles and reaches down into the door pocket and pulls out sunglasses that cover her entire face. She looks like a 1920s actor in blackface makeup. The car roars to life as I scrabble for my seat belt. There isnt one.

“That thing broke years ago,” she tells me as she clicks her own belt into place. “I just finally cut it out. But you can be rest assured that whenever Tyson is in this vehicle, he is always safe in the backseat.”

I want to get in the backseat.

 

She smiles again and hits the gas.

M
INUTES
later I am discovering what its like to be driven by a woman who thinks the world will end if she doesnt keep the gas pedal firmly against the floor and that apparently theres no such thing as the “Oh My Fuck God” handle bar for me to hang onto in an early-eighties Caddy thats the color of shit.

Mrs. Paquinn glances over at me and must see the blood drained from my face as she says, “Oh, dear, you really must calm down. Havent I told you that I used to race stock cars as a young woman?”

I feel my shoulders release slightly. “No, I think you must have skipped that part,” I say through gritted teeth.

 

“Well, good. Because I have never raced stock cars, and that would have been a lie.”

I try to make myself smaller in the seat, thinking about how after all the shitty things that have happened in the last twenty-four hours, it would be a perfect end if I was splattered all over the windshield.

She turns to look at me as we narrowly miss plowing into a nice family of four.

“Now, am I going to have to pretend to not be nosy or are you going to tell me what happened with Julie?”
I shake my head as my hands tighten onto the seat corners. “Why else would she be here? To screw everything up like she—
oh my God watch out!
—like she always does,” I finish weakly as she almost rear-ends a stopped car. She goes around it instead, into oncoming traffic, and rounds the next corner at the same speed.

“I can figure that much on my own, Bear. I must admit that I had the darnedest time leaving you boys alone with her last night. I thought it would be okay because you had that Oliver with you. Hes even bigger than my Joseph was, God love him.”

At the mention of
his
name, I forget that we are traveling sixty miles an hour through residential streets. Sadness takes fears place.

 

“Bear? Honey? Did I say something wrong? That look on your face is breaking my heart.”

 

I shake my head.

 

“It wouldnt have anything to do with the way he had you pressed against the wall outside my door last night eating your face, would it?”

Oh shit. My face snaps to hers, and even though I want to beg her to watch the road, I see theres no hatred or disgust in her eyes. Theres only love and its directed at me.

“You werent supposed to see that,” I mutter.
“I didnt see too much,” she assures me. “I heard a bang from outside and looked out my window and saw you two.” She reaches over and pats my lap. “I must say, though, I never thought I would live to see the day when a
Bear
got mauled.” She chuckles quietly. I smile weakly and think about how

black his eyes had been, how my breath had gotten caught in my throat as I felt his hands upon me, my back pressed against the apartment wall. How his breath had become my own, and how I had just wanted to spit and hiss and rut right there. “I love you,” hed said.

I know
.
I think I’ve always known.
I shouldnt be thinking of these things. I
can’t
be thinking of—
(Oh God)

For a moment, I am gone, traveling back days and weeks. I rewind past the earthquake, past the ocean, past the ugliness that was my cowardice, past
her.
I am with him.

He grins up at me from his spot between my legs, his chest pressing against my cock as he rests his head in one hand and draws meaningless shapes on my stomach with the other. His long legs stretch out and dangle off the edge of the bed.

“Okay, what did I say that time?” he asks.

 

I shrug. “I don’t know. How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re spelling. This is stupid.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not stupid. You’re stupid. Guess.” He starts the shapes again.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on the movement of his finger. He goes slower, and again, I have no idea what he’s trying to say. The nerves in my skin tingle as he ghosts his way around and around. His big hands are like fire. I grunt softly and arch, trying to relieve the pressure that is building in my loins. I hear him chuckle softly, and he presses his chest downward.

“What did I say that time?” he whispers as he grinds his chest against me. So unfair.

 

“You better have been saying how you want my dick in your mouth, or I am going to kick you in the balls,” I pant.

“Nope. Let’s try it a different way.”
He uses his tongue this time. I forget how to spell.
I
go back
further and it’s two

It’s two days before the dirty spelling bee. I am at work, and the phone rings. Even before I pick it up, I know it’s him.

“Hey,” he says excitedly. “I totally forgot to tell you today! I didn’t buy the dolphin-safe tuna.”
I grin. “I love you too,” I say, feeling retarded and elated all the same time. I don’t even look around to see if anyone is listening.

Then it’s
further back and I
and I wake

I wake up next to him, his breath warm on my face, his arms curled around my neck. His heart beats in my ear. I shift gently so I can rest my chin on his nipple, and I look up him, willing him to wake up, wanting to see the gold and green I’d just been dreaming of. And then it’s magic, it’s magic, it’s magic because right then his eyes open, and he smiles sleepily at me. “Hey,”

“Hey, yourself.” I reach up, and he’s ready for me, hunger beginning to take shape, and I think I won’t ever fit against anyone as well as I fit against him.

back further (when? why
?)

It’s just days after I have told him I love him for the first time. Every time he sees me, it’s like it’s for the first time.
“Hey,” he says. “You know I knew, right?”

I could pretend not to know what he’s talking about, but he won’t be fooled.
“I know.”

He kisses my forehead. “I felt it from the start.”
He tells me he loves me.
He whispers that the fight for me is all he’s ever known.
I know. Ah, God how I know and and and
and
then I
go
forward.
We are almost to Annas house.

“Thats what this is about, isnt it? About Oliver?” Mrs. Paquinn says quietly. “What did she say to you, Bear?”