He makes a pained noise and slumps against the wall. “Go back inside, Bear. Go back inside and leave me alone.”
I sit up and start to do just that and am at the entrance to the jumping castle when I stop. “What happened to you, Otter?” I ask without turning around. “Why’d you come back home?”
“Not now, Bear,” he begs. “I can’t do this now. Go away. Just go away.”
“No,” I say, turning to show him that I am suddenly angry. “No, you’re going to tell me, and you’re going to tell me now. I’ve put up with your bullshit for the last three fucking years and, goddamn it, you owe me.”
“Why do you care?” he grumbles.
“Because you’re my friend, Otter!” I shout at him, shaking. “Even after all that you’ve done, even after all of that, you’re still my friend! I don’t have anything else to give you, so you give me something back for once!” My words echo of the walls and dance across my mind. I still can’t see his face, but I don’t want to move any closer to him. I’ve never talked to anyone like I’ve talked to him over the last week. If I were him, I’d hate me. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. I feel shame slowly heating my face, and I feel like I should apologize, but I can’t. I won’t. However wrong I am for saying the things I’ve said, at least it’s been the truth.
“Otter,” I try again, my voice softer. “Why won’t you talk to me?”
“You said it already, Bear,” he tells me flatly. “You’ve got nothing left to give, and I certainly know I shouldn’t expect any more from you. You’ve done enough. I can’t expect you to be there for me when I wasn’t there for you.” He stands, wobbly, and works his way past me, out the front of the jumping castle. I stare stupidly after him.
So that’s it, I think dully. That’s it. I can’t do this anymore.
He’s halfway across the yard before I call out to him. I don’t mean to. It just happens. He stops, shoulders slumped. My feet are moving before I realize I’m running after him. I stop a few feet away, and he doesn’t turn around.
“What did you mean?” I ask before I can stop myself. “What did you mean, what you said to Anna?”
He sounds dejected. “What did I say to Anna, Bear?”
“You said you felt like you’d lost your one chance to be happy,” I tell him, the words falling out of me in a croak. “What did you mean?”
He tenses, and I think he’s going to turn around, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he does, but some part of me, that secret part, is willing him to turn, to face me so I can see the look on his face so I’ll know if he’s telling the truth with whatever he says. I’m drenched with sweat and I feel sick to my stomach but fucking turn around! Look at me! Give me something, goddamn you!
For a moment it looks like he will, but he doesn’t. He walks inside without saying anything.
He walks away from me.
Again.
THAT night, curled protectively around the Kid, I dream another dream.
I walk on the beach. The sky is blue and the water is blue and the sand is blue. Not the blue of day, but the blue-black of the ocean at night. Sometimes Otter walks with me, sometimes it’s my mom. They don’t say anything, so I don’t either. It’s okay, though; I don’t mind. I like walking on this midnight beach. I know nothing can hurt me here. I’ve fought for this place. It feels like the only fight I’ve ever known.
Otter disappears, and my mom is here in his place. She looks over at me curiously, and I hold out my hand to take hers, but she takes a step back and shakes her head. Then she’s gone, and it’s Otter standing next to me. I offer my hand again, and he refuses it, too, but steps closer to me. I feel his arm brush against mine. He points out to the water, and I start walking toward it, the waves crashing gently onto the beach. I follow him as he breaches the surf. My feet are wet and I stop. I try to call out to him, and I know he must hear me because he turns and holds out his hand, wanting me to be the one to take his. I hesitate, and he sees this, and then he’s gone, and it’s my mom again, wading the shallow waters, beckoning me to her. I take a step back.
And another.
And another.
Otter looks at me sadly. His eyes aren’t the bright green they should be, but the brown of my mother’s. He hangs his head, and his hand drops to his side. He turns and walks farther out, beyond the break. I know I can’t sit and watch him drown, but I’m so afraid of drowning with him that I don’t follow. The water surrounds his shoulders, and still he moves farther out, and there’s a moment, a bright shining break in the night blue, and I run after him, like I always knew I’d do. The water splashes up around me, and it’s sticky and heavy, but I don’t care. I have to get to him. He hears me coming and turns, and I see his eyes are green again, so beautifully gold and green that I laugh in relief. The water pours into my open mouth, and I am sinking, I am drowning. The surface closes over the top of my head, and I’m gone, gone, gone.
5.
Where Bear Learns
Several Truths
“YOU guys aren’t even going to care that I’m gone, are you?” Creed asks me and Anna.
I roll my eyes. “Creed, you’re going to Portland for a week. I do without you for months at a time, so I think I’ll be okay.” We are sitting outside on a bench at the grocery store. Anna and I are working but taking a smoke break, even though we don’t smoke. The principle is the same.
“I wasn’t just asking you,” he drawls. “Anna, you’re gonna miss me, right?”
“I am already counting the seconds until your return,” she says dramatically, putting her wrist against her forehead. “I pine for your return, dear Creed.” She gets up, kissing both of us on the head, saying she has to get back before she gets in trouble. She tells Creed not to do anything stupid while he’s gone.