“I guess. Off and on.” 5… 4… 3… 2… 1….
“So how’re you holding up, Bear?”
It’s inevitable. People always ask me this like I am going to break. Like I’m going to fall down and never get up. I wish people weren’t so predictable. I wish Otter wasn’t so predictable.
“Fine.”
“Oh.” A minute passes. Then, “Well, you seem to be doing well. And Ty, man, the Kid seems to be getting bigger all the time.”
“People change. That’s what happens when you disappear for a while,” I think, then bunch my fists as I realize I said it out loud. Shit.
“Disappear?” he asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Forget it.”
“What do you mean, forget it? You can’t say something like that and expect the conversation just to be over because you say it is, Bear.” I can hear him gritting his teeth and I think it’s because he’s mad. Good. Let him be mad.
“Yes, I can,” I retort, hating how I sound.
Another minute passes. Rain on the roof beating a song.
I hear Otter snort and shake his head. “I didn’t disappear, Derrick. You knew where I was.”
At that moment, I hate him. Using my name like that, like he’s talking down to me, like he’s better than me, like he’s talking to a child. That’s something my mom’s infinite string of boyfriends use to do. I was never Bear to them, not that I wanted to be. But the way they said it, this knowledge in their eyes, grinning at me when my mom wasn’t looking. Always with the same thought: Yeah, I’m here with her. What are you going to do about it? Stay home and take care of your brother like you’re supposed to.
“You left, Oliver,” I snap at him. “Call it whatever you want, but you left.”
His hands grip the steering wheel so that his knuckles turn white. I glare at him with my arms crossed against my chest, daring him to speak, daring him to try and say anything in rebuttal. He quickly looks over his shoulder and changes lanes, signaling to pull into a parking lot of a strip mall where tourists go to waste money on snow globes and dried starfish. It’s all dark now, all of the shops closed since no one comes out in the rain. He pulls into a parking space and puts the Jeep into park. He sits there and stares straight ahead, tapping the steering wheel with the palm of his right hand. I turn away, feeling embarrassed. I should have kept my mouth shut. We’d be almost back to his house by now.
“Bear,” he starts, still gritting his teeth. He rubs his hands over his head, the short blond stubble slipping through his fingers. “Bear,” he starts agai
n.
“What!” I huff, annoyed.
He turns to look at me, and now I can see what Anna was talking about. I can see the sadness in his eyes and etched across his face. If it was there before, it wasn’t like this. I curse myself for being so weak, for calling him out on some bullshit he doesn’t need to hear. Who the fuck am I to say anything? I am supposed to just grin and Bear it. That’s what I’ve always done, and that’s what I should have done now, regardless of how deeply, secretly angry I am.
“Look, Otter,” I say, suddenly nervous. He shakes his head and I stop. He goes back to bumping his palm on the steering wheel. I wait.
Finally, after ages, “Is that what you think? You think I abandoned you?”
I don’t speak. I don’t trust what would spill out of my mouth. He waits some more, his hand beating in time with the sound of the rain on the Jeep’s roof.
Again, finally, “I didn’t want for you to think I was abandoning you, Bear. I just thought….” He sighs. “I just thought it would be better for everyone if I wasn’t around for a while.”
I can stay silent no longer. “Better for whom?” I cry out, gasping as I feel the sudden sting of tears. “Better for you? How could that have made anything better? I woke up and you were gone! Do you know what that felt like? Do you!” I know how I sound, but I can’t stop. “You left, just like she did! And you promised you wouldn’t! What the hell was I supposed to think?”
“Bear,” he says, a warning in his voice. “You don’t know what was going on.”
“How could I?” I shout at him, raging. “You never told me anything! You did what you did to me, and then you left!”
His head snaps up to me, his eyes no longer sad, but blazing. “What I did to you? Jesus Christ! Who the hell do you think you are? You all but told me to leave!”
“I know who the fuck I am, you bastard. And I know who you are. You’re just like her.” I reach into my pocket for my wallet and pull it out. Inside is a piece of paper I’ve carried for a year and a half. It’s yellowing with age and has ripped in a couple of places from how many times I have opened and read it. I hurl it at him. It bounces off his chin and into his lap. “Read it.” He doesn’t move. “Read it!” I shout.
He opens it and I see his face go white. “You… you kept this?” he whispers. “Bear, I—”
That’s it, I can’t take it anymore. I fumble about for the door handle, blinded by tears for Christ’s sake, and throw open the door. I am furious. Furious at myself for crying in front of him, furious at Otter for tricking me like he did, furious at myself for thinking of him like that. No! I growl to myself, stomping through the rain, not caring where I am going. Otter did this! I didn’t do anything wrong. He tricked me! He tricked me and left! Just like I knew he would! I think I hear him call my name, but my ears are pounding too hard to be sure. It sounds like the ocean. I’m about to start running when I feel strong arms wrap around me from behind, clasping on my chest. I turn around to swing at him but can only get partway before I get caught in a vise grip.