This story has been kind of built up. I don’t know if you’re going to be disappointed or what when it’s over because when I say it out loud, it sounds like I’m losing my mind. But I will promise you one thing: I will leave nothing out, and everything I tell you is the truth.
IT’S three years ago, and we’re standing in my apartment, and Otter feels my lips press against him, and for a moment, he allows himself to feel shocked and pleased and moved. Then reality sets in as I pull away and a voice rings out in his head, screaming, “What are you doing to him? He’s just a kid, and he’s drunk! What the hell are you doing!” He sees me collapse on the couch mumbling words he can’t understand, but he’s too frozen to move. He’s still angry at me for yelling at him just a few moments ago when I was pushing him to leave. And he’s horrified with himself for allowing himself to be kissed like this. He knows he’s wanted it to happen, but he also knows that I’m straight, and he thinks it’s his fault that I am the way I am. He hears me stop talking and start snoring, and he’s able to finally move. His mind is telling him to stay away from me, but his heart can’t bear leaving without at least saying good-bye. Because, you see, he’s already made up his mind; he’s going to go home and get a couple hours of sleep and start packing, and by this time tomorrow he’ll be in California on his way to someplace new. But before he goes, he has to see me one last time. He puts his arms underneath me and lifts me like I’m a child. He’s surprised about how easy it is to pick me up, how perfectly I fit into his arms. His heart breaks a little then, and he knows that he’s going to be damned in my eyes for leaving, but he sees no other choice.
I move a bit in his arms and bury myself into his chest. He carries me quietly to my room, where Ty is asleep. He lays me gently on my bed and raises the covers to my chin. He sits on the bed for a moment, brushing the hair from my face, touching my cheek. He thinks he’s never seen anyone more handsome than me at that moment. He finds it’s getting harder and harder to leave, and he wants nothing more than to just lay down with me and deal with the consequences in the morning. But he can’t because he has to protect me from him. He finally stands and walks over to Ty and thinks, You take care of Papa Bear, okay? You take care of him, and he’ll take care of you. You’re in better hands than you could ever hope to be. He kisses the Kid gently on the forehead and blinks back the sudden tears. He needs to hold it together, at least until he gets into the car.
He comes back to me and watches me sleep for just a moment longer before he kneels beside the bed and does something he hasn’t done in a very long time: he prays.
Please, God. Please make sure You take care of these two. You see, God, I’m not going to be able to right now. I want to, but I can’t. I have to leave them, and I know it’s not going to be easy for any of us, but if You could just please keep a close eye on Bear and Ty, I’d appreciate it more than You’ll ever know.
He feels slightly foolish at speaking to God like this, knowing that even if there’s a God, he doesn’t take personal requests. He doesn’t know what else to do. He leans over me and whispers into my ear, “I’m sorry. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me one day.” He wants to say more, so much more, but he doesn’t because he thinks it won’t matter. His lips brush my forehead. He gets up and doesn’t look back, knowing that if he does, any control he has will be gone.
On the ride back, he sobs uncontrollably. Eventually, he makes it home.
He wakes sometime later. It’s still dark outside. He packs up what he can and shoves it quickly and quietly into his car. He only takes what he needs to survive for now, knowing if he needs more, he can either buy it or send for his old things. By the time he’s finished, it’s light out, and people are waking in the house. Creed comes down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and freezes as he sees Otter loading the car.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Creed asks him suspiciously. “Whose clothes are you wearing?”
Otter tries to act nonchalant, but outside he’s sweating and inside he is storming. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” he says. “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” Creed almost shouts. “Where are you going?”
“I took that job in San Diego, Creed. And keep your voice down.” He doesn’t look at Creed because he won’t be able to take the recrimination in his eyes.
“You told me you turned that down,” Creed says accusingly. “Why the fuck would you be going if you turned it down?” And that’s what Otter did tell Creed, because that is what he had done. You see, when Otter had found out that my mom had run out on us, he turned down the job the next day without question. He thought his place was by my side and that I needed him then more than ever. But since he knew he was just confusing me more, he felt it was better to put as much distance between us as possible. He’ll call the studio on his way to see if the job is still available. If not, he’ll just get another one. He’s smart. He has a degree. He’ll make it. Somehow.
“It’s better this way,” he tells Creed.
“How is it better?” Creed shouts, losing control. “How can you look at the Kid and promise him you’ll stay here if you turn around and pull this shit! He’s never going to trust anyone again, and it will be all your fucking fault!”
Otter doesn’t say anything, only because he is scared that Creed is right. It still doesn’t deter him, though. He thinks it’s better for the Kid and I. Actually, he’s only thinking of me, and this shames him more. He wants nothing more than to be able to be honest with someone. He wants to tell them how he feels. But it cannot be Creed. He imagines how that conversation would go, telling his brother of all the things he wishes he could do for me, with me, to me. He doesn’t think that conversation would go over very well at all.
As if knowing what’s going through his head, Creed barks, “What about Bear? You’re ready to walk out on him just like his mom did? What kind of fucking bastard are you, Otter? Just who the hell do you think you are?”
“It’s better this way,” is the only thing he can say.
The ruckus brings down their parents, and it starts all over again. By the end, his dad has hard lines on his face and his mother is crying and Creed won’t even look at him. He thinks that this is how he’ll remember his family, and he doesn’t know why, but it cements his decision even further. He stands in front of them awkwardly, waiting for someone to say something more, but it becomes apparent there’s nothing left for any of them. He says good-bye to his mom and dad, who grudgingly let him go. When he gets to Creed, he almost recoils at the hatred he sees in his eyes. He hugs him roughly and whispers in his ear, “You have to watch out for them, okay? You have to because I can’t.” He thinks that’s the end of it until Creed reels back from him and spits on his shoes and turns and walks away. He stares stupidly at the congealed saliva. He doesn’t say another word to anyone and turns and leaves.
He’s almost out of Seafare when nausea overtakes him. He pulls over quickly to the side of the road and heaves and heaves and heaves until there’s nothing left. While he’s vacating the contents of his stomach, he can only think of me, wondering if I am awake yet or if Creed has called me. He doesn’t know that Creed is too pissed off to be able to say anything, and that I won’t be awakened for another half hour. He wipes the spittle hanging from his lips and gets back into his car and drives away.
The trip takes two days, and he goes through various stages of anger, remorse, denial. But mostly he replays the kiss over and over in his head. In a motel in Redding, California, he jerks off at the thought of our lips touching. He jerks off at what will never be. Before he comes, he whispers, “Bear,” and then the orgasm starts at his toes and rips through his body. He cries out and closes his eyes, and all he can see is me. It’s like I’m haunting him and no exorcism will cleanse him of me.
He arrives in San Diego and stays at the house of a friend he knew from college. He contacts the studio, and he’s in luck: the position is still available. They seem surprised to hear from him and a
re even more surprised when he says he is in town. They offer him the job and tell him to come in the next day to fill out the paperwork. His friends want to go out and have a welcome celebration, but he begs off, saying he needs to start looking for an apartment. They nod and offer suggestions, and later, when it’s just him by himself and it’s dark and he’s stretched out on the couch trying to sleep, he picks up his phone and pulls up my number and tries to call me. He stares at his phone for what feels like hours, but he cannot work up the nerve. He doesn’t know what he would even say if I answered. He sighs and turns his phone off.
A few weeks go by. In that time, Otter finds a nice apartment, starts his job, and meets new and interesting people. He trades in his Chrysler and gets the Jeep. He finds out his nice apartment has cockroaches. He gets a tan. He goes to a gay bar. He has sex with someone who looks like me. He feels guilty. He does a photo shoot for a magazine. He photographs anything and everything. He makes friends. He goes hiking. And running. And walking. He does all these things and these things make up who he’s becoming, but still he thinks of me. One night, he gets up the nerve and calls my number. His heart pounds, and his blood boils, and the phone rings, and he gets my voice mail. He thinks he shouldn’t have expected any different but is shocked at how good it is to at least hear my voice on the voice mail message. He calls the number again, knowing I won’t pick up. “You’ve reached Bear’s phone. I’m not here right now, so leave me a message, and I’ll try to call you back. I’ll probably forget, though. Bye.” He rocks back and forth.
A few days later, Creed calls him. It’s the first time they’ve spoken since he left. Creed is still very angry, but he’s more willing to talk now that almost a month has passed. They talk about San Diego and about Otter’s work and the people he’s met. Creed tells him of his plans for school in the fall and the final preparations he’s making. They speak for a few minutes more until there is a lull in the conversation and both are dancing around the topic that has gone unsaid. Otter is the first to break and only because it’s like an itch in his head begging to be scratched.
“How’s Ty?” he asks casually, his voice betraying nothing.
“Fine, I guess. I haven’t really seen a lot of him since you left,” Creed responds.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
Creed sighs. “I didn’t call you to fight with you.”
This catches Otter off guard. “I didn’t think you did,” he says, confused. “Why are we going to fight? I asked why you hadn’t seen Ty.”
Creed sighs again. “That’s what we would fight about,” he says, his voice going flat. “I haven’t seen the Kid or Bear that much because they’re both messed up right now. You messed the Kid up royally, Otter. He freaks about everything now.”
Otter takes in a ragged breath.
“And Bear,” Creed continues. “Otter, Bear won’t admit it, but I know that you leaving messed with him more than his mom leaving. He goes on pretending everything is okay, but I’ve known him too long to swallow his bullshit. It’s like part of him died. You should try and call him.”
“I did!” Otter says, surprised when it comes out as a shout. “I did and he didn’t answer!”
“Do you blame him?”
Otter doesn’t. They talk for a few minutes more, but not about Ty and not about me. When Creed hangs up the phone, Otter throws it across the room and collapses on his bed. He falls right to sleep and dreams, and in the dream, I am standing right next to him, and he feels such happiness, but it’s like he’s a ghost because no matter what he does or says, I don’t respond. He wakes up alone.
Now that he’s established contact with Creed, he thinks it’s okay for him to call people from home again. Over the next few months, he tries to make amends. He talks to his parents, and they are happy to hear from him. He tells them about his job, about the celebrities he’s gotten to meet, the parties he’s been invited to. They don’t ask if he’s met anyone, and he doesn’t bring it up. His being gay has always led to uncomfortable conversation, and he doesn’t want to have that now. He thinks it’s better if he doesn’t say anything at all. They seem to agree. He loves his parents and they love him, but he thinks that can only get them all so far.
He calls Anna, who tells him up front that if he’s calling to pump her for info on me, he can forget it. She says that I’m very hurt by him but that if he wanted to know anything further, he would have to call me himself. He doesn’t tell her that he’s tried many times to call. He doesn’t tell her that it’s almost a daily ritual to hear my voice mail. He doesn’t tell her that he dreams of me almost every night, and of that kiss, that kiss that shouldn’t have happened and that only lasted a few seconds but that still warms his heart every time he thinks of it. He doesn’t tell her any of that, but when she asks him why he sounds so sad, he says without thinking, “I think I lost the only chance I’ll ever have to be happy.” This breaks him further, and though Anna asks what he means, he refuses to tell her and changes the subject.
After he says good-bye to Anna, he walks into his bedroom and sits on the edge of his bed and looks over at the photograph that is on his nightstand. It’s a large color photograph in an expensive frame. It’s the only picture he has in his apartment. It was taken last year in the fall. A great storm was coming in off the ocean. Otter had gone with Creed and me to the beach to watch it roll in. Creed had run back up to the car to grab his jacket, and I had been standing between Otter and the ocean. The sky was a weird orangeish-green-blue-black angry thing, and my hair was whipping in the wind, and I had a huge smile on my face. I turned to look at Otter, and right when my eyes found him, he snapped the picture. It’s this picture he looks at now.
A few days later, he’s speaking to Ty. Anna is babysitting him while I am at work. At first the Kid is hesitant and suspicious of talking to Otter. Otter feels sad at this but knows he’s the only one to blame. Then he says something that makes the Kid laugh and the tension leaves, and Ty is soon happily babbling about anything and everything. Otter lets him go on and on and closes his eyes, happy to hear the Kid’s voice. He finally asks for Anna to be put back on the phone. Ty tells him that Anna has left the room, so he’ll have to go get her. Before he can stop himself, he tells the Kid to wait and asks him about me.
“He’s sad a lot,” the Kid says in a low voice. “But it’s a secret.”
“What do you mean?” Otter asks.
“He’s sad all the time, but he doesn’t want anyone to know. He doesn’t even want me to know, but I do. I wish he wasn’t sad, Otter.”
Otter covers his eyes.
Months pass. He works. He plays. He drinks. He eats. He fucks. He loves his job. He hates his job. He’s happy. He’s sad. He thinks he’s losing his mind. He thinks he’s never been saner.
He doesn’t go home that first Christmas because he doesn’t think he’s ready to. He’s stopped calling my phone so much. He only does it now to remember what I sound like. Sometimes he looks at the picture by his bed. Sometimes he puts it in drawer and leaves it there for days. Christmas comes and goes. New Year’s comes and goes. He toasts the future with some friends, and they all go around and say their resolutions. When it’s his turn, he makes up some bullshit about not drinking as much, to which everyone raises their glasses, too, and laugh, but inside he resolves to get over me, move on with his life. He tells himself there’s no need to pine over some kid, and even though a little voice chides him for this, knowing full well I’m not just some kid, his resolve is firm, and he realizes it’s the only way.
One day in June, he’s surprised to see that he’s been here for over a year.
Suddenly it’s Labor Day, and he’s at a barbecue over at one of his client’s houses. He’s having fun but is a little bored. He’s about to say good night, when the hostess brings over someone to meet him. Otter’s sitting down, and when he stands, he is facing a very cute guy. His name is Jonah, and he’s tall and stocky and has black hair and blue eyes and his own house. It turns out h
e’s thirty and works in an advertising agency. He has a chocolate lab named Moxie and likes to ride motorcycles. He’s very smart and very handsome. They talk for the rest of the night.
They have their first date a few days later.
It’s December 23rd and he’s taking Jonah, who’s going back east for Christmas, to the airport.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?” Jonah asks him.
Otter shrugs. “It won’t be too bad. There’s some prints that I need to go over, and I promised some friends of mine I’d go over to their house for dinner.”
Jonah looks concerned. “Why don’t you just go home? I’m sure your family would love to see you. And you can check in on your friend? What was his name? Tiger?”
“Bear,” Otter says and suddenly wants to go home and look at my picture. He’s moved it from the side of his bed to his closet because he didn’t think Jonah would understand. He hasn’t told Jonah what happened between him and me and doesn’t think he ever will. He knows that if he can just give it enough time, he could love Jonah. He believes he really could.
“Bear, then,” Jonah says, waving his hand dismissively in a way that irritates Otter. “You should see all of them. After all, it’s Christmas.”
He’s watching Jonah walk away into the terminal, when he decides that Jonah is right. He’s been gone for far too long. He hurries home and buys a plane ticket online. It’s expensive and isn’t until Christmas Day, but it’s worth it. He takes my picture out of the closet and sits on the floor and stares at it until the heaviness that is always in his heart loosens, just a little bit. He feels like he’s cheating on Jonah, but he can’t help it. Being with Jonah has made him feel like he’s cheating on me, even though I was never his to begin with. He thinks he’s a monster.