I’m six and fall down, and she won’t kiss the scrape because it’s gross.
I’m nine, and she says she can’t go to Parent Night at my school.
I’m twelve, and she brings home a baby.
I’m fourteen, and she brings home some guy I’ve never seen before.
I’m seventeen, and she leaves.
I’m twenty-one, and she comes back.
WE WALK into the living room, and we see she’s moved from the couch to stare at the pictures that I have put up on the wall. Most of them are done by Otter, and they show Anna, Creed, the Kid, and I in various stages of life. There’s some with just one of us, there’s some with all of us. But the one she’s focused on now gives me pause: it’s one the Kid had taken a few weeks ago. In it, Otter and I are on the beach, the sun is setting behind us, and Otter has his arm around my shoulder and his face looking directly at the camera, a smile to light up the whole world adorning his face. I’m smiling just as big, but my focus is on him. Much is said in my face in that frozen moment, and I get nervous anytime Creed comes over, almost to the point where I want to take it down. But I haven’t and I won’t. She hear
s us come back into the room and turns to face us.
Otter takes the Kid and sits down on the couch, and the Kid positions himself with his back to Otter’s chest, his little legs in the middle of Otter’s big ones. Otter rests his chin on Ty’s head and pats the couch seat next to him, and I move quickly and assuredly and take my place next to my guys. Mom hesitates for a moment, as if unsure of what to say or do. She moves slowly to and sits in the chair that had recently been occupied by Mrs. Paquinn. She glances between Ty and myself, and I hope she sees how well we are, or at least were until she showed up. Otter’s hand rests comfortably on the couch between his leg and mine, and I can feel his finger, out of sight by the position of our legs, rub soothingly against my thigh. I glance at him, and he looks back and the gold-green tells me that it’s going to be okay.
“How are you, Bear?” she finally asks.
“I’m fine,” I tell her coldly. “We’re fine.”
She nods and look nervously at Otter for a brief moment and then back at me. “That’s good to hear,” she says softly, wringing her hands in her lap. “I figured you would be, but it’s always good to see it with my own eyes.”
“What do you want?” I ask, feeling unwelcome curiosity mix in with the anger.
She glances at Otter again and then says, “Maybe it would be better if this were just between family,” she says, almost apologetically.
Otter snorts. “That’s not going to happen, Julie. You can say what you need to just as easily with me here.”
“Oliver, I don’t think that this concerns you at—” She tries again but is cut off when Otter interrupts.
“What you think isn’t really a priority of mine,” he says, scowling at her. “Bear and Tyson both want me here and as long as that’s the case, I’m not leaving.”
She sighs and looks to me for help, that pleading look on her face that I’ve seen countless times before. I feel the skin under my eye twitch involuntarily, and I think wildly that she’ll imagine I’m winking at her. But she doesn’t, and I think she knows she won’t get any help from me. I want Otter here. I need Otter here. That annoying begging look of her dissolves, and we’re left with the pudgy shy expression that’s rested on her face since we got here. But there’s something underneath. Something deeper.
“So, Bear,” she says, her voice cracking subtly, “what have you been up to?”
“What do you want?” I ask again.
My mother shakes her head. “Can’t I just ask you one simple question without you biting my head off? Tyson has already told me all about his school and friends, and I just want to hear how things are with you.”
“No, I didn’t,” Ty intones.
“I know you didn’t, Kid,” I say, patting him on the leg.
Mom looks offended. “You know,” she says angrily, “regardless of what I did, regardless of how badly I reacted, I’m still your mother. I still care about the both of you more than you could ever know.”
“Gee, thanks,” I scoff at her, struggling to keep from shouting. “That’s sure helped me over the past three years when I’ve tried to sleep at night.”
Her eyes flash. “It wasn’t easy for me, you know,” she says hotly. “Making that decision was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I’ve regretted it every day since, but the more I tried to figure out how to fix it, the more time passed, and it got harder and harder.”
“You want to talk about how hard it was for you?” I say incredulously. “You want to come here, to my house, and spout how difficult life was for you? You don’t know anything about hardship!”
“I did what I thought was best!” she cries. “I was in no place to be a good mom to either of you! It was better that I go than stay here and ruin your lives too!”
I feel myself start to shake, and I hear thunder in my ears and lightning arcs its way down my spine. “What you thought was best? How could you think what you did would be best? You left your six-year-old son with a seventeen-year-old! In what possible way could that be best?”
She shakes her head and tries to rise but sits promptly back down. She wrings her hands, and they’re starting to turn red, and her gaze darts between the three of us. I wonder what she sees now, and know that if I was in her position, I would be quaking in my shoes.