“Just needed new ones,” I told him.
He nodded and shrugged and walked away, whistling some song I didn’t recognize.
By then it was only four thirty in the afternoon, way too early to consider going to bed, even if I was going slightly crazy. I eyed the Benadryl in the bathroom for a moment, considering chugging it down and going to bed right then. But then Otter said he needed help putting together the entertainment center, and I groaned and turned off the bathroom light, shutting the door behind me.
“ARE you tired?” I asked Otter at eight that night. We were in front of the TV, the Kid in his new bedroom, plotting the downfall of carnivores everywhere. “I’m tired. Are you tired?”
He cocked his head at me. “You feel okay? You’ve been acting weird all day.” He reached up to rub the back of my head, and I knew he would feel the growing bald spot, so I ducked my head away from him.
“No, I haven’t.” I scowled. “You’re weird.”
He rolled his eyes. “Good one. Seriously. What’s up?”
I looked at him for a moment, trying to decide what my next words would be, but of course, my mouth opened before I could stop it: “Would you still love me if I sent detergent to the IRS?”
He burst out laughing. “Is this one of those little games that couples play?” he asked me while he chuckled. “Like would you still love me if I had twelve fingers?”
I gaped at him.
“Oh, or would you still love me if I turned out to be a notorious bank robber on the run from Interpol?”
“Otter—”
He was enjoying this stupid game he’d started way too much. “I know!
Would you still love me if I wanted to get a sex change?”
I stared. “A sex change?”
He shrugged. “I’d still be the same person.”
“Yeah, but you’d be a chick.”
His eyes narrowed. “I would still be me,” he grumped. “And we all know you like chicks.”
This was weird. “Do you want to get a sex change?” I asked slowly.
“Apparently that can’t even be on the table because you’d dump me! I’d still love you if you turned out to be a laundry terrorist, but you wouldn’t be able to stay with me if I had a vagina? Uncool, Bear. So uncool. I thought you loved me. You won’t even let me be myself if I needed to be.”
“Are you fucking stupid?” I snapped at him.
He looked at me with that gold-green, and then his eyes flitted down to my shoulder. He reached up carefully and brushed it gently. “What?” I asked him, panic in my voice.
He shrugged. “Just a couple of hairs.”
Oh… my… God.
Getting ready for bed that night was a nightmare, the white sheets blinding in the overhead light that swung gently on the ceiling fan. They mocked me as I slid on my sleep shorts, telling me that when I woke up in the morning, it’d look like somebody had shaved a cat while we slept. Otter smiled quietly as he walked past me, pulling the toothbrush from his mouth to give me a Colgate kiss. How could he know the storm that brewed in me that night? How life as I knew it was so over, that I was so full of angst and despair that I just couldn’t possibly see how I could go on? Oh, how I wish he knew.
I got into bed, my heart thumping against my chest. Otter crawled in after me and pulled me tightly against him, his breath warm against my neck, his arms wrapping around me, forcing one of his big legs between my own.
“I love you, Bear,” he whispered sweetly as he reached up to switch off the light.
It went dark. He dropped off almost immediately.
I stayed awake long into the night.
“AHH!” I practically shouted when I opened my eyes the next morning.