“Oh,” I said.
Creed sounded exasperated. “Bear, did you hear what I just said? Otter’s gay.”
“I heard you,” I said, sounding annoyed.
“And all you have to say about it is ‘oh’? What the hell?”
“What do you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know. Whatever. I think that Otter was seeing someone and something happened last night, and they broke up or something. That’s why he came home all sad and retarded, and then he left. Has he said anything to you about some guy or something? When was the last time you talked to him?”
“A couple of days ago, when he called to talk to Ty,” I lied and in my head I felt Otter’s lips upon mine again. “I’ve never heard him mention anyone before.”
“Well, shit. But Ty! What the hell is this going to do to him?”
“I don’t know,” I said, suddenly angrier than the situation should have warranted. And if I was being honest with myself, the anger I felt at my mother leaving didn’t even compare to Otter’s exit. He’d made a promise to Ty to stay here and help him. Otter had promised me. Did my kissing him really screw him up so bad that he had to leave? Did he really feel the need then to give the Kid another reason to not trust anyone ever again? You son of a bitch, I thought. You goddamn son of a bitch.
“Dude, I’m coming over. I can’t deal with this shit here right now. My mom is crying and my dad is pissed off, and I really should be there when you tell him so he can hear it from me too.”
“Okay,” I said through gritted teeth, and I closed the phone. My headache was even worse. My hands shook with anger.
I got up and closed the bedroom door and got back into my bed.
I’m sorry, he’d said in what I thought had been a dream. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me one day.
Burying my face into the pillow so Ty wouldn’t see my face, I started to drown.
WE TOLD Ty, and of course it broke his heart, and he didn’t understand why Otter had left. We told him it was nothing he had done, but Ty was past any kind of consolation by then. After that, Ty changed. He began to ask me for exact times when I would be back from work or wherever I went. If I was going to be late, I needed to call him and let him know. The bathroom thing started that I told you about earlier, where I would be expected to stand in the same spot that I was in when he went in. In short, he stopped trusting everyone.
We had good days, and we had bad days, and there were also days when it felt like we lived above a fault line because everything would seem to shake apart at the seams. That bathtub saw a lot of use between Ty and myself, just sitting in there, trying to calm ourselves down. One night, after a particularly bad day, I got stuck behind an accident on my way home from work. That’s also when my cell phone battery just happened to run out. You know, the basic perfect storm. Needless to say, I got home twenty minutes late. The Kid was already in full freak-out mode by that point, and it took me five hours to finally get him calm enough to take a breath. I put the phone charger in my car the next day and have never taken it out.
During the next year and a half, Creed would give me updates as he would talk to Otter every now and then. I never asked for them, but I was told anyway. Apparently he was doing really well with the new studio he was working in and becoming quite renowned for his photography. I felt bitter for a while, and then I just stopped feeling anything. Otter tried calling me a few times, but I didn’t pick up the phone, and he didn’t leave any messages. Ty would talk to him every now and then when he was with Creed or Anna. I never asked him what they talked about, and he never told me.
I never told anyone about the loneliness that seemed to be clawing at my insides. I thought it weird, at least at first, that I would even have any time to feel lonely. But there were nights, long after Tyson had fallen asleep, when there was nothing to do until it again became light outside, that I wrestled with this gaping hole that had been torn open inside of me. I knew I couldn’t fully blame Otter for this; after all, my mom was the one who started it all. But I couldn’t help but lump them in the same category: People I Depended On Who Fucked Me Over. I figured the sooner I put them behind me, the easier it would be.
It almost worked.
I didn’t see Otter again for eighteen months. I thought I was okay with it. But when he showed up out of the blue, the wound reopened and started bleeding anew, and it was like everything was crashing down all over again.
The Kid and I went to the Thompsons for Christmas Day like we had done the year before. We were all sitting in the living room, watching as Ty opened the mounds of presents that Creed’s parents had given him. We were all laughing as the Kid’s smile got wider and wider with each present. I was thirsty and offered to get everyone something to drink. Mrs. Thompson offered to help, but I shook my head and said I would take care of i
t.
I was in the kitchen when the door opened and in he strode, his hair slightly longer, his frame slightly thinner, but still grinning that crooked smile. He looked around the kitchen, and then his eyes fell on me, and he dropped the bag he was carrying, and without a word he moved quickly across the distance between us and pulled me into his arms. It all happened so quickly that I was sure I had hallucinated the whole thing until I realized that he still smelled like Otter. I put my arms up to hug him back but remembered the last time I had held him so: his mouth had been pressed against mine, my body made of live wires.
I pulled away and walked out into the living room, but not before I saw the hurt in his eyes.
He stayed for a week. I let Ty see him but always made it so Anna or Creed picked the Kid up from our house and took him over. I never saw him the rest of the time he was there. I didn’t trust myself around him. He never made any attempts to get in touch with me that I know of while he was there, save one. Ty had come home on New Year’s Day after I got out of work, desperately needing the time and a half for working the holiday. The Kid had spent the day with Creed and Otter over at their house. Ty said that Otter had dropped him off and then left, going back to San Diego. My heart and head felt heavy, but there was nothing I could have done about it. I wanted to talk to Anna, to hear another voice, and realized I’d left my phone in the car. I told Ty I would be right back, after reassuring him it would only take a minute.
I walked toward my car, thinking about how good it felt that Otter was gone again, a weight lifted from my shoulders. It took convincing, but I was almost able to believe it. I got closer to my car and saw a piece of paper stuck under a windshield wiper. Thinking it was a flyer for a restaurant, I picked it up and was about to crumple it in my hands when I saw familiar handwriting:
I know you were hurt and have every reason to be angry, but just know that there hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought about you and Ty. Maybe that’s my punishment, knowing you are doing well and knowing I had nothing to do with it. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, for having done so great despite people breaking their promises to you.
It was good to see you, even if it was only for a moment. I am glad I got at least that. I’ve missed you, Papa Bear.
It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. I folded it gently and put it in my wallet.
“WHY are you here?” I moan. “Why did you come back?”