Bernard silently stood. His mass eclipsed Chance’s frame. He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths then released them.
He spoke slowly and softly. “Listen to me, you egotistical, carbon-copy asshole. I may not have your looks, but I do have standards, dignity, and self-respect. You think I’m so desperate that I’ll go home with the first person who talks to me? I am going to guess that you talked to me on a bet. I’ve seen your type. You’re not interested in me. You don’t want to have sex with someone like me.” Bernard pointed out the musclemen who surrounded them. “Those are the guys I’ve seen you leave with. Either way, I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, so leave me alone.”
Chance stood dumbfounded for a moment. He regained himself. “No! You listen to me, you–”
Bernard held up his hand to cut him off. He rotated it and flipped him off. Chance grabbed his drink and huffed away, mumbling to himself. Bernard’s eyes followed Chance back to his table. Chance’s face fell as he handed a bill to a broad-shouldered man.Typical entitled kid who thinks the world owes him something for doing nothing but being born with the right body.
Bernard drained his soda and set the glass on the bar. “I need to leave,” he growled to himself. “I can’t be the only bear who likes other bears.” He stormed toward the door, past Chance and his friends.
“Honey, that big ol’ prude has turned down way hotter guys than you.” The broad-shouldered man laughed.
Fucking typical. I’m a joke here.
Outside, the warm California air filled Bernard’s lungs. Fancy cars packed the parking lot. His truck, like him, stood out. The club stood on a lot alone, the nearest business a quarter of a mile away. His eyes adjusted to the darkness. The stars above shimmered with the near-full moon.
Bernard jumped into his truck and started it. The dash clock flashed 10:15.It’s only been twenty minutes? It felt longer.
He pulled out and headed home. His water-filled eyes blurred the road ahead. He swiped at the tears under his glasses to clear the path.
Twenty minutes later, Bernard parked in his driveway. He meandered through his gate, into the house, passed through the kitchen, and stepped over the baby gate into the laundry room.
He opened the back door. A lush yard greeted him. A dilapidated greenhouse sat in one corner and a doghouse in the center.
A small brown-and-white corgi barreled toward him and leaped into his arms.
“Aww, did you miss me, Ginger?” He held his best friend tight against his chest as he fought back more tears.
Bernard took down the gate. He filled the dog’s food and water bowls under the island. Ginger ran to her food.
“You hungry, girl?” He rubbed Ginger’s ears. “Even though you don’t understand me, you still love me.”
He grabbed a pint of ice cream and a spoon, leaned against the counter, and ate from the tub. Tears mixed with the melted dessert as it dripped down his beard. Ginger sat and stared up at him as he sniffled.
“I know I’m not supposed to binge-eat, but it’s been a long night.”
Ginger barked at him.
“Okay, I’m almost done.”
Bernard threw the empty carton away and walked to his bedroom, Ginger at his heel.
Ginger curled up on her bed next to the nightstand while he entered the adjoining bathroom and undressed.
He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, recoiling at the ice-cream-splattered man in front of him. Disgust settled in the pit of his stomach as he turned on the tap, splashed his face with water, and scrubbed furiously at his matted beard.
After he dried his face, Bernard took in his naked body in the mirror.
“Who could love this?” He grabbed fat from his stomach and shook it. He closed in on the stretch marks hidden by his body hair. “This is…” He shook his head. Self-disgust writhed inside him. “Get a hold of yourself,” he commanded his mirror image. “That is not all you are. You have a lot to offer. It’s not your fault no one sees past your exterior.”
He stepped into the shower and scrubbed. He paid close attention to the areas where the egomaniac rubbed against him. His skin became raw and pink. The hot water washed away the grime of the evening, along with fresh tears.
He lost track of time and glanced at his watch. It’d been thirty minutes. Stepping out of the shower, he mindlessly dried off before returning to the bedroom.
He stared with disdain at the CPAP machine on his nightstand as he filled it with distilled water.Normal people don’t need a machine to help them breathe at night.He put the water away and dressed in a T-shirt and gym shorts.
Bernard plopped on his bed and stared at the blank TV screen. Leaning over, he rummaged through one of his nightstand drawers. He grabbed a VHS titledA Bear’s Day Work, put it in, and laid back down. The screen displayed two bearded, rugged, beefy men sensually undressing each other. They explored each other’s bodies with the kind of raw and passionate desire that Bernard yearned for. He closed his eyes and envisioned a large man with him. The dream man desired him, touched him, and caressed him. This man loved him. It made him both hopeful and sickened. The men on the screen were muscle bears, not fat bears like him. They wanted each other, not him. These men were everything he wasn’t. Men fawned over thin men like Chance or masculine men like them. He fell in the middle. Lost. Forgotten.
He shut off the tape and turned the channel. He lay there as a commercial boasted about a new weight-loss supplement that required one daily pill. Another described medication to help with depression and anxiety. Bernard stared at the ceiling; fresh tears clouded his vision as thoughts of a life without someone to love him filled his head.
