“In the tub. There’s quakes, and I needed to be safe,” I stated irrationally.
“You okay?”
“No. Come over.”
“Okay.” No hesitation.
“You’re eating family with your dinner. I don’t want to m
ess that up.”
He snorted. “Screw ’em. Creed can keep them happy. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
A warning bell went off in the back of my head. “No, it’s okay,” but he had already disconnected.
I tried to get up, to do what, I don’t know. I only succeeded in hitting my head on the soap dish that outcropped from the shower wall. I decided I was in no condition to even be thinking at that point, much less having Otter over, with everything that had been going on. I looked stupidly down at my phone, wondering how I had gone from wanting to call Creed or Anna to having Otter on his way over while I was hammered. I threw my phone into the hallway, where it bounced off the carpet into the wall. I reached over and turned on the shower and sat there as the cold water fell on me, willing myself to become sober. My clothes quickly became soaked and clung against my skin. I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs and shivered.
I was startled out of a daze sometime later when Otter walked into the bathroom. He was wearing a suit and tie, and I wondered why he had gotten so dressed up to come to my house. I wondered why I was still sitting in the shower, my skin numb and teeth chattering. I wondered why I noticed that Otter’s tie matched his eyes almost perfectly. He leaned against the bathroom doorway, big arms crossed against his chest, head cocked to the side as if he was trying to figure out just what the hell it was that I was doing. I felt like I needed to explain.
“I got scared,” I said stupidly as I gestured around me. “This is the only place that’s safe when everything quakes.” He didn’t say anything; instead, he left the doorway and climbed into the bathtub with me, suit and all. He sat down next to me, our knees knocking together gently. He reached over to the faucet and flipped it until the water grew warm. I looked over at him, eyes wide.
He saw me staring at him and shrugged. “It’s only a suit, Bear. And your lips are blue. Why’re you sitting here with the cold water on?”
I looked down at my hands and realized how insane I must have looked when he walked into the bathroom. “I was trying to get sober,” I said, my voice sounding like the Kid’s.
Otter snorted and lifted the bottle out of my hands. “I bet you were. Why in God’s name would you be drinking this shit?”
“It’s all I had. It’s all my mom left,” I said, as if it explained everything.
“Well, then, this won’t be so bad,” he said as he leaned forward and dumped the rest of the bottle into the toilet. I started to protest but thought better of it when he shook his head.
“Fine,” I said. “I didn’t want any more anyways.” I put my head on my knees, finally starting to feel warm again. We sat for a bit, not talking, and that was okay. The shower was too loud to be able to talk properly, but it was good just to have someone there. I was conscious of his presence, his knee knocking against mine every so often, and I took comfort from it. I felt the world slowly right itself, and when I was sure the earthquake was over, I got up and reached over Otter and turned off the water. I got out of the bathtub and handed him a towel.
“Better?” he asked as he took off his suit coat and tie. He rubbed the towel over his face and hair.
“Yeah. You didn’t have to come over, Otter.”
“I know.”
“And now you’re all wet.”
“You’re very observant when you’re drunk.”
“Why’d you come here?”
“You asked me to. Why’d you call me?”
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully.
“I don’t know, either, Bear. But I’m here now. And yes, I am soaking wet, as are you. Can I borrow some shorts and a shirt or something? We can’t stay in these clothes.”
My mind took that the wrong way, and I felt an aftershock course through me.
He followed me to my bedroom, where Ty was still asleep. He waited in the doorway while I grabbed some clothes for him. I tossed him an old shirt and some cargo shorts. He walked away, and I heard the bathroom door shut. I hoped he hadn’t notice how my hands were shaking. I told myself it was because I was cold. I felt like a liar.
I quickly peeled off the wet clothes and used the towel to wipe down my chilled skin. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. I quickly found out I was still drunk when I couldn’t figure out how to work the zipper on my pants and my shirt ended up on me inside out and backward. I cursed softly.
I walked out of the bedroom, making sure to leave the door partway open again, and went into the living room, where Otter was already sitting on the ugly couch. My clothes seemed to fit him better than they did me. The shirt was stretched tight against his chest and shoulders. The sleeves strained against his arms. I wondered drunkenly what would happen if I made him angry; I bet I wouldn’t like him when he’s angry. I felt my mouth go dry and chose to sit in a chair opposite him instead of on the couch next to him, trying to get the image of Otter as the Hulk out of my head.