But that doesn’t mean I don’t ache with it.
Bear still waits, and he’s going to want an answer sooner rather than later. One of the promises I made when I stopped going to therapy was that I would talk out these moments, that I wouldn’t let them turn into something more. I laughed it off back then, figuring I was cured from my incredible neurosis, as even Bear seemed to have chilled as he got older. I made the promise, though. It was the only way Eddie, Otter, and Bear would agree to stop the weekly sessions.
And I’ve been fine. Mostly.
Puberty blows. I’m moody for no reason. I’m anxious. I’ve got hair growing in the oddest places. My voice cracks every now and then like it’s made of fragile glass. My eyebrows seem to want to make a unibrow. And I expected to shoot up at least another four or five inches, but no. Of course not. I’m a tiny, fretful, hairy dwarf, and I can’t wait until I outgrow this and get on with the rest of my life. Being a teenager is not all it’s cracked up to be. I can’t wait until I hit my midthirties.
And still he waits. Bear never had this much patience six years ago. It’s annoying is what it is. I think about growling at him to go away, but that’ll just make things worse. My hands are tense in his. He can feel it. He has to.
I’m articulate, so why can’t I find the words? Why does it seem like I’ll shatter if I open my mouth?
In. Hold for three seconds.
You can do this.
Out. Hold for three seconds.
Tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him.
“This is it, you know?” I tell him quietly.
“What’s it, Kid?”
I hesitate.
“Kid?” Otter asks. “Do you want me to leave so you and Bear can talk?”
I shake my head at once. “No. I need you here too, okay? You’re Otter. I need you as much as I need Bear.” And that’s true, but I still glance quickly at Bear, just to make sure that doesn’t make him mad. I don’t want him to be mad about something like that. It’s just gotten to the point in my head where they’re a team, they face things together. Bear’s my brother, but Otter’s my… what? Brother? Uncle?
Father?
Bear’s not upset. I really didn’t think he would be, but that smile on his face is still comforting. He doesn’t think I see him do it, but his gaze darts over to Otter’s, and they catch each other, just for a moment. It’s another one of those looks they have. It’s not something I’m privy to, the secret language they communicate with, but that’s okay. It’s not meant for me. It’s meant for them.
Otter stands from his seat at the table and moves his large frame until he’s in front of me. He sits on the kitchen floor, his knees bumping my shin. They’re surrounding me, letting me know they are there just by little touches. It’s almost too much. I need this to be over.
“It’s….” My voice comes out like a croak. I stop and clear my throat. I try again. “It’s stupid. I know. I keep trying to tell myself not to think like this. That it’s all for the best, that it won’t matter in the long run. That this is what I wanted, right? That this is what I want to do with my life. This is what I’ve been working toward. This is what all those late nights have been for, those times when I wanted to go to bed, but I couldn’t because there was a paper due or a presentation I had to give.”
Bear looks like he wants to speak, but his lips thin out into a bloodless line instead. He knows I have to get this out of me, like it’s bile or poison, but it’s hard for him to hear. I have to make it better for him, to not let him doubt himself. This isn’t about him, and I don’t want him to think he pushed me too far.
I look him in the eye. “And I’m okay with that, Papa Bear. It’s not that. It doesn’t have anything to do with that. If you didn’t think I could do it, then I wouldn’t have. You had faith in me, and I didn’t want to let you down.”
He makes a little noise in the back of his throat and opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again and shakes his head, gripping my hand tightly.
“Then what’s going on, Kid?” Otter asks, saying the words his husband cannot.
“This is…. God, this is so dumb. This is just….” Say it. Breathe and just say it. “This is just the last time I’ll be here to celebrate Dom’s birthday,” I say, the words po
uring out in a rush. It feels like a dam has broken and everything comes gushing out. “I don’t know why I’m focusing on that. I don’t know why I keep thinking about that. But I do. I can’t stop. It’s like these little pinpricks of fire across my brain. Just when I think it’s done and over with, it pokes again. It burns again. It’s all there again until it’s all I can think about. And I don’t know why it’s happening now, I don’t want it to be happening now, but it is. It is happening. I’m graduating in a month. I’m turning sixteen in a month. We’re moving to New Hampshire in four months. It’s what I wanted. It’s what I expected. I wanted Dartmouth. I wanted it and I got it. That’s what I should be focusing on, that’s what I should be reaching toward, but I can’t. I can’t fucking focus because all I can think about is how this fucking birthday is the last time I’m going to be here with him. Next year he’s going to turn twenty-three and I’ll be thousands of miles away and I can’t fucking focus.”
Bear opens his mouth to speak, but Otter grabs his hand and shakes his head.
Just breathe. That’s all I need to do. That’s all this is about. All I need to do is breathe. Like I was told. Eddie taught me that I’m bigger than my fears. I’m better than my fears. Hold it in for three seconds. One. Two. Three. Let it out for three seconds. One. Two. Three….
“Because he’s going to be fine, right?” I continue, ignoring the slightly high-pitched sound of my own voice. “He’s going to be fine and it’s not even going to matter. He’s probably getting too old for someone like me, anyway. I’m just a kid. I mean, my name is the Kid. He’s got other things to focus on. He’s got other things to worry about. He’s a cop now. He’s got to focus on that. He’s got to focus on that so he can go home every day safe and sound. That’s what he needs to focus on. Besides, he’s got all his cop friends and all his new buddies, and they’ve got to be the ones who take care of him now. They’ve got to be the ones to watch his back. I’m just some kid. I’m just—” My breath catches in my throat, but I push through it. “I’m just a little guy, you know? There’s not much I can do about it.”
“Kid…,” Bear starts, but then he stutters a bit. “Tyson,” he tries again, “why haven’t you brought this up before?”
I look at him incredulously. Hasn’t he heard a single word I’ve said? “Do you hear how I sound, Bear? Like I’ve got a mouthful of crazy! Of course I haven’t brought this up before. It’s ridiculous.”