“I- I- I-,” I say, finding out how great I am at stuttering.
Otter comes to my rescue yet again: “Like I said, Kid: we’re still trying to figure things out. This is all very new for Papa Bear, and we’ve got to let him think things through for himself.”
Ty shakes his head and looks at Otter sadly. “I hope you know,” he tells him, “that just because he can’t say it, doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it. He’s always been like that and whatever he needs to work out, I hope that you can let him.” I want to rush over to the Kid and scoop him in my arms. I want to bury him in everything I can give because he keeps finding ways to show me he knows me better than I know myself.
“I do know,” Otter says, patting Ty’s hands. “And I haven’t forgotten my promise to you. But I think you know that.”
Ty nods and gets up from the table and walks around to Otter and lays his head on his shoulder. Otter wraps his big arms around him and pulls him in tight and kisses his head. From where I stand, I can hear the Kid whispering to Otter. He says, “Thank you for taking care of Bear. He’s needed it for a very long time.” He lets go of Otter and turns to face me, walking slowly in my direction.
“I don’t care who you are,” he tells me, his voice clear and strong. “I don’t care if you love differently than everyone else. It doesn’t matter because you’re still my brother.” He takes my hand, and I stare down at this little Kid, this person who is wiser than I could ever hope to be. I squeeze his hand hard, and he squeezes mine back, and I know he knows all I can’t say. He beckons me down with a finger, and I lean forward, and he whispers in my ear: “I’m glad Otter came back. I’m glad you were able to find him again. But if it’s okay with you, I’m still going to like girls.” With that, he leaves the kitchen, humming quietly to himself.
I think I’ve told you how he is one of the few people in the world that can leave me speechless. But have you ever had all your synapses fire at once and your mind is a literal blank slate? It’s not as if you can’t speak, because generally, in synaptic-firing situations, a billion things run through your head, and you just can’t pick which one to say. I’m talking about having no singular thought, no retort, rebuttal, negation, nothing that goes through your mind. It’s almost blissful not having anything to say.
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Just pure white bliss.
“YOU okay?” Otter asks me. He’s just come back from saying good night to the Kid and has found me in the same place I’ve been standing since Ty started asking his questions. I haven’t been able to move and am still in the process of trying to jump-start my brain into functioning again. All I can do is nod.
Otter smiles at me and steps in front of me, rubbing my arms at my side. “One of these days I am going to figure out how the hell the Kid got so smart,” he tells me, laughter in his voice. “He doesn’t miss a single thing.”
“Let me know when you figure it out,” I say weakly, finally finding my voice. My brain is sluggish, but it has turned over and finally starts to catch. I’m able to take a deep breath, but the reboot has left me unable to process anything.
“I don’t think we’ll ever know,” Otter says, kissing my forehead. “But I guess that’s okay too. He’s going to be one of those people that says one thing and will instantly have a million followers.” He laughs again. “I know I’m already one of them.”
I roll my eyes. “What? Like the Gospel According To The Kid? He’ll be able to tell you whatever it is you never knew you were thinking about?”
Otter arches his eyebrow. “You never thought about it?” he chides. “Any of it?”
I scowl at him. “Stop it. You know what I mean. How the hell did he pick up on any of this? We’ve been careful, for Christ’s sake.” My eyes narrow as I glare up at him. “Did you tell him anything?”
“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “Do you really think I would do something like that?”
“No,” I say grudgingly. “But it can’t be that blatantly obvious, can it? He’s just really fucking perceptive or something.”
Otter snorts. “Does it really matter if it’s obvious or not?” he asks me. “The Kid was completely fine with it. As a matter of fact, he’s ecstatic over it. Who cares how he figured it out?”
I take a step back from Otter and shove my hands in my pocket. “I care,” I tell him crossly. “If a nine-year-old can see this, what the hell are we going to do about everyone else?” The white bliss, the feeling of the slate wiped clean, is gone. In its place, the ocean has filled in through the cracks of the seabed, and the wind is whipping around me, and I feel like I am standing at the edge of something, and I cannot for the life of me take a step back. How I could go from feeling empty to this in such a short space of time is beyond me, but I did, and I can’t make it go away. “Your brother,” I hiss at Otter, “my best friend, comes home tomorrow. What the fuck are we going to do about that?” I remember vaguely talking to Creed on the phone just a short while ago (or was it longer than that? Days? Months? Years?) and how I’d been ready to tell him everything.
“Whatever we choose to do,” Otter says, sounding annoyed. “If you don’t want to say anything to him, then that’s fine. But he is my brother, and he is your best friend, and I would think that would give him somewhat of a right to know. What do you think would happen if he found out? That he would never speak to you again?”
I shake my head angrily. “I don’t know what would happen, and I don’t want to find out. You told me,” I say, pointing a finger at him, “that you would give me some time to work this out. You know I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You know this is the fucking scariest thing I’ve ever done.”
His face softens, and he closes the distance between us and takes my hand. I want to shake it off, but his big paw has a firm grip on me, and it would be futile. I stare irritably at the ground, wanting to go back to the state of nothingness. Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles, and I wonder what would happen if there was ever an earthquake at the edge of this ocean. I wonder if the shocks alone would be enough to swallow me whole. I think incoherently of tidal waves.
“I know,” Otter says gently. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’m trying to force you to do anything, because that’s the last thing I’d want to do. We’ll do this your way. I promise.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and then he’s around me, and I rest comfortably in my place on his shoulder. He’s big, so much bigger than me, and I hope that it’s enough to harbor me against whatever may come. He rubs my back, and the waters retreat just out of sight. I can still hear the subtle cacophony of the waves, but it’s drowned out by the haven that has amassed itself around me.
“I know, Papa Bear,” Otter says from somewhere above me, his words muffled by my hair. “You just got to trust me sometimes, okay? I know it’s hard to believe, but every now and then, I do know what I’m talking about.”
“I do trust you,” I sigh. “It’s myself that I’m having a hard time with.”
He pulls back and takes my face in his hands and kisses me sweetly. He grins crookedly at me, and his eyes once again show everything he’s feeling about me, every emotion bare on his face. The waters come a little closer but do not return to where they were. He brushes my cheek and chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Well, aside from Ty knowing about us, we did find out something else that’s interesting.”