Bear, Otter, and the Kid (The Seafare Chronicles 1)

“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt. “Whatever he is will never be a concern of yours.” I take a deep breath. “Whatever I am is no longer your affair. You can’t dictate how we live our lives ever again.”

“I am your mother,” she hisses. “I brought you into this world, so that gives me more right than you!” Her mouth twists up in a sneer, but this is my mother; even I can see that underneath she’s smiling. “And,” she says, her eyes flicking over the Kid, “I’m his mother too. Who do you think people will listen to, Bear? A child like you who’s been corrupted, or to a mother who wants nothing more than to see her youngest son raised away from the disgusting lifestyle you seem to have embraced?”

“You need to leave,” Otter growls, placing the Kid to the side as if he’s getting ready to pounce. “Now. I’ve had enough of your talk.”

She puffs up as much as she can, trying to make herself seem bigger, and for that, I have to give her credit. If I had Otter glowering at me as he is at her, I would have run away and not stopped until I was sure I was in another state. The Kid is squished down between us, but I still feel the way Otter is shaking. It’s like his skin is alive, roiling and crawling over his bones. His teeth are bared and there’s spit hanging from his lip. The gold-green is gone, dilated to almost complete blackness. His forehead is scrunched up, and his nose is flaring, and all I want to do is sit back and let him at her. She would deserve it. But I can’t let Otter do this. I can’t let him fight my battles for me. I also know that if he breaks into this madness that seems to be lapping at his feet, I will quickly follow, and I don’t want Ty to see us like that. I make a choice, and it hurts, hurts more than I thought it would. She’s been back for a few hours, and it feels like she’s already winning.

I reach over and grasp Otter’s arm, and his angry face turns to me and for a moment, I get the full brunt of what he has shown my mother. I almost do get up and run, but I find some resolve to push that away, and I’m surprised when I don’t even flinch. He breathes heavily for a moment longer, and then his face softens, and his eyes grow brighter, and his lip curls back down, and he’s come back to me, and I’m glad. I jerk my head to the left, motioning him to follow. He nods and grabs the Kid’s hand, and we rise from the couch. My mother looks to speak, but I shoot her a look, and she subsides. Otter follows Ty, who follows me, and I lead them to the front door. I know my mother is listening intently, hoping to glean anything she can. We go outside, and I close the door behind us.

“Where are we going, Bear?” the Kids asks, his voice small.

I sigh. “We aren’t going anywhere, Ty. You are going to go with Otter to his house and wait for me there.” Both start to protest immediately, but I raise my hand and they fall silent at once. I look at Otter, who looks like he is going to start speaking again at any moment. “You need to get him out of here,” I say. “I won’t have the Kid listening to whatever hate she is going to utter. Take him to your house. Get him out of here, Otter. Please,” I say when he starts to protest. “For me.” His shoulders sag, and he wraps an arm around the Kid’s shoulders, which Ty shoves away.

“No, Bear,” the Kid croaks angrily. “We have to do this together. You said we would do this together—”

“I know I did,” I say harshly, cutting him off. “But that was before I saw what kind of person she’s become. You don’t need to be here for this, Kid. I don’t want you here for this. You have to let me handle it.” His eyes search mine, and he must not like what he sees because his body starts to mimic Otter’s, beaten and dejected.

“Take him home,” I whisper to Otter. “Take him away from here, and I promise I’ll follow you, just as soon as I get rid of her.” Otter nods and starts to pull the Kid toward the stairs, but Ty breaks away and wraps his arms around my waist, his head pressing into my stomach. I lean down and hug him back as hard as I can, trying to make him forget this day. I don’t know how successful I am.

After a minute or so, I relax my grip and am about to turn back inside when he grabs my wrist and pulls me down. His breath is hot and urgent against my ear. “You promise me, Bear,” he breathes into my ear, and I think of the desert. “You promise me that when you come to get me that everything will be the same. You promise me.”

I smile sadly. “I promise, Kid. I’ve taken care of you this far, right?” He nods.

I lean back up and look at Otter, who looks old, older than I’ve ever seen him. His shoulders are still hunched, and I don’t know if he heard what the Kid has said. I reach out and grasp his hand, and he raises his head, and I see his eyes are filled with angry tears. “Hey, none of that,” I chide, reaching up to lovingly wipe his eyes.

“Ty,” he whispers hoarsely. “Will you go wait for me by the car?” Ty looks between the two of us, and I wonder what he sees. The Kid grabs my free hand and kisses the back of it, and it touches me like I never thought he could. I can feel my breath starting to hitch in my chest and I try to quell it before it can go further. The Kid walks down the stairs and the farther away he gets, the tinier he looks. It’s like he’s growing smaller and smaller and will disappear if I look away.

When Ty is out of earshot, I look back at Otter, who seems to have gathered some resolve and control. I smile at him, and he raises his head again, and I see that the control is a lie. His eyes are black once more, and I start to sweat, and I think that he’s going to burst into the apartment and tear her limb from limb. I start to open my mouth, but the air rushes out of me when I’m slammed up against the side of the apartment. Otter’s body and face press against mine, and his kiss is rough and dangerous. I can feel him clawing against my back and gnashing at my lips. Even with my mother sitting not fifteen feet away, I feel myself grow hard. Otter notices, too, and growls against my face. I reach up and bring my hands to the back of his head, pushing him further into me. He kisses my lips and then nips and licks his way along my jaw until he reaches my neck, and I feel his teeth sink gently into the skin there, and he starts to suck. I lay my head back against the wall as my eyes roll up into my head, and I start to float away on an ocean current. There’s no storm, but I’m completely submerged now. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.

Otter finally leans back, and I can feel the gentle burn on my neck where I know he’s left his mark. I gaze up at my boyfriend and see the wildness fleeting once again from his eyes, and he puts his forehead against mine. We stand there for what seems like hours, him exhaling while I inhale, and I fill myself up with Otter, with air that was once inside him but now is inside me. I feel a drop fall down on my hand and open my eyes, in time to see another tear fall from his eyes.

“Now she’ll know,” he grumbles into my face. “Now she’ll know you’re mine.”

I cup his face in my hands and kiss him gently. “That she will,” I tell him.

He suddenly jerks away and shoves his hands into his pockets and makes for the stairs. I put my hand on the doorknob and watch him walk away. When he gets to the bottom, he turns, just like I knew he would. God, I love how Otter is so predictable.

“I love you, Papa Bear,” he calls up to me, his voice steady.

“I know,” I say. “I think I’ve always known.”

He nods and then disappears into the dark.

“HOW long?” Mom sputters, as I walk back into the living room. “How long have you been living in sin?”

I snort. “Sin? Come on, Mother.” I sit down on the couch and glare up at her as she paces back and forth in front of me. “You’ve never been one for religion, so it’s probably not a good idea for you to start now. You’ll only embarrass yourself more t

han you already have.”

She stops in front of me, looking incredulous. “You’re worried about me embarrassing myself? Look at you! I didn’t raise you to become Otter’s bitch!” she yelps at me. “You’re not a fag, Bear! What the hell has he done to you?” She starts wringing her hands again, and I think that soon they’ll fall off.

“He hasn’t done anything to me,” I say, frowning. “Well, not anything I didn’t want him to do.” It’s a cheap shot, I know, but I can’t help feeling a sweeping sense of glee as I see her eyes widen, and she pulls back. “And don’t say fag. Ty says that word is crude, and I believe him.”

“How long?” she says with a grimace, resuming her trek back and forth in front of me.

“How long what, Mother?”

“How long has he been corrupting you?”