“Bye,” I say, making up my mind to tell him everything, but then he’s gone.
I look down at my watch as I set down my phone. “Ty, it’s time for bed.”
He sighs and pushes back from the table. “That’s fine. Otter was getting decimated. I was going to win in the next four moves.”
“I was not getting decimated,” Otter says indignantly. Ty reaches up to the chess set and shows him the next four moves. Otter rolls his eyes. “Is there anything you’re not good at?” he asks the Kid.
Ty shrugs. “Not that I’ve seen. I’m sure there’s something.”
I laugh quietly as Otter scowls down at the table. I’m about to tell the Kid to get his butt in gear when his face scrunches up like it was before he made a move, like it does when he’s thinking heavy things. I groan inwardly, not really up to answering Ty’s questions about why people believe aliens make crop circles when it’s obviously bored farmers or how to solve world hunger the vegan way. I shake my head and wait. Otter looks at him and then back at me and then sits back in his chair. He knows.
“Derrick?” the Kid finally says.
“Yes, Ty?” I say.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I can’t help but smile. “You always do,” I say, teasing him.
“You have to promise not to get mad,” he tells me, which is a first. The Kid has never prefaced any question like that before. Thoughts run through my head, trying to pick out every possible scenario in which he thinks I would be angry with him. Nothing comes to mind, and I have no choice but to promise. He says nothing for a while, as if gauging the truthfulness of my words. He glances casually at Otter and then back at me, and right when he opens his mouth and before he speaks, I know what’s going to come out, what he’s going to say, and I only have seconds to choose whether to lie or to be honest to one of the only people who thinks what I say matters.
“Is Otter your boyfriend?” he asks.
“What?” I say, stalling for time. Otter suddenly sits up very straight in his chair. His eyes go wide, and he cocks his head at the Kid, as if trying to figure out if he’d really heard what Ty had just said. “What?”
“Is Otter your boyfriend?” the Kid repeats.
The blood rushes from my face as I say, “Why do you ask that?” The guilt I feel at not being able to answer his question right then is easily outweighed by the mounting sense of horror I feel. But all of that is eclipsed by the word boyfriend. I’ve never even thought of it like that. Is that what Otter is to me? My… boyfriend? Sure, Otter is someone I care about (Care about? the voice asks. Oh, Bear), but I’d never really put that association with what we have. I don’t even know what we have. Sure he does things to me that make my head spin, and I sing along with Celine Dion, but that doesn’t make him my… make me his… you know. I look to Otter for help, but he’s still staring at the Kid, his mouth now hanging open on its hinge.
“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about the last few days,” Ty said. “I didn’t know if I should ask, but then I figured it’s always better to ask something than to just wonder.” He unscrunches his face and smiles cautiously at me. “Is that okay?”
I don’t know what to say.
I should reassure him that of course it’s okay to ask questions. I should tell him that he can always come to me when he has something on his mind. All these words and more form in my mind but derail and die on their way to my mouth. I think absurdly for a moment about how he hadn’t asked me if I was gay like when he’d asked if Otter was. He’d not seen to label me in that regard but to ask, in his own way, if Otter was mine and I was his. This races and dances around my skull, and I think again on how I wished I’d thought of what Otter was to me.
Then why can’t you answer him? it asks. Why are you sitting there silent like it’s all going to go away if you ignore it? It you’re so strangely excited at the thought of him belonging to you, then why can’t you answer the fucking question? He’s nine years old! He’s nine years old and has the guts to ask the things that you can never bring yourself to think of in the first place.
“It’s okay,” I tell the Kid quietly, and he looks instantly relieved. He hazards a glance back at Otter, who has now focused his attention on me, a look of wonder and naked adoration upon his face. If only he could see how very close the storm has gotten.
“Ty,” Otter says, tearing his gaze from me to concentrate on the Kid. “Bear and I haven’t really… talked about what we are. This is something that is very new for the both of us.”
“Is that why he and Anna broke up?” the Kid asks him.
Otter shakes his head. “It wasn’t just that. There was a lot of grown-up stuff going on between them, stuff that had nothing to do with you or me. Sometimes that happens to people.”
“I know that,” the Kid says smartly. “Some people are just not meant to be together. But that doesn’t mean you still can’t love them.”
Otter laughs shakily. “That’s true. And Bear and Anna love each other very much, and we love you very much.” He grins quietly. “But hell, Kid. You caught me off guard with that one.”
The Kid looks down at his hands. “Does that mean you love Bear too?”
“Yes,” Otter says without hesitation. “It means I love Bear.”
“So then he’s your boyfriend.”
“Ty, he told you we haven’t talked about that yet,” I say, harsher than I mean to. “This is something for me and Otter to figure out.”
Ty doesn’t catch on and doesn’t let it drop. “But, Bear,” he tells me, “If Otter loves you and you love him, then why don’t you call him your boyfriend?” His eyes narrow. “You do love Otter, don’t you?”