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Before the silence can get more awkward, Otter walks back into the room, and the lines on his forehead tell me that whatever that phone call was about, it can’t possibly be good. Shit. And here I was thinking that today would be all easy. Between Tyson’s attempt to become poet laureate to Seafare Elementary, and his new teacher who looks like a porn star and who has apparently had sex with my boyfriend ( stop thinking about that! ), I don’t know how much more I can handle today.
I give Otter a quizzical look, and he shakes his head once, and I know he wants to wait until we get out to the car before he says anything. I call for the Kid, who says good-bye to David and jumps up onto my back and starts babbling about the stuff he’d read in the textbooks and how excited he was and that he was nervous when he started to give his presentation and did I think his poem was good and did I think that everyone else thought his poem was good? I notice Otter and David shaking hands again, David grinning at Otter, but Otter’s distracted and drops his hand and follows us out the door.
It’s not until we’re in the car and driving home that he tells me who was on the phone. And when I hear who it was, my heart stops in my chest, and I think maybe I’m going to puke all over Otter’s Jeep. And when I hear what they want us to do… well, when I hear what they want us to do, I tell Otter to keep on driving until we reach Mexico. He just smiles at me weakly.
Who is it, you ask? Who was on the phone?
Well, it would seem that Creed and Otter’s parents are home from their trip abroad, where they were fighting Pygmies in the Amazon (okay, that’s not what they were really doing, but I still don’t know what they were actually doing). And they were surprised to learn that Otter was back in Seafare. And they would like him to come for dinner this Saturday. And they would like me and Ty to come for dinner. Otter was with us already?
Oh, great! That saves them a phone call! Oh, and Creed is flying back for a short weekend to see his parents, even though he just left. And Creed invited Anna! Oh, and wouldn’t you know, Anna had, in turn, invited Mrs. Paquinn!
Wasn’t it just so wonderful? It’s like the whole family back together again!
We’ll make it a celebration!
Alice and Jerry Thompson do not know about me and Otter. Or me and Anna. Or me and Creed.
This isn’t going to be awkward at all.
3.
Where Bear Attends
the Most Awkward Dinner Ever
“ARE you absolutely sure about this?” I hiss at Otter as we pull into the driveway of his parents’ house. “We could tell them we’re all sick with SARS.”
The Kid snorts from the backseat. “Wow, way to be topical. Bear, the likelihood of any of us coming down with SARS is—”
“Not a good time, Tyson,” I growl at him as I look at the backseat. He rolls his eyes.
Otter shrugs. “How could I not be sure? You did make a Bundt cake, after all,” he says, grinning as he points at the container on my lap.
I’m insulted. “Everyone likes Bundt cake.”
“Kid, do you like Bundt cake?”
r /> “Oh, am I allowed to give my opinion now?” the Kid asks wryly. “Well, then, Otter, of course I don’t like Bundt cake. It has eggs in it. Baby chicken eggs. You don’t see chickens standing outside of maternity wards waiting to get our babies to make their Bundt cake, do you?”
“No,” Otter says thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “No, you sure don’t.
That would be weird, though. Can you imagine like a long line of chickens, just getting handed babies one by one? I would pay money to see that.”
I would too, but I’m not giving them the satisfaction of saying so. “Back on track, boys,” I snap at them.
The Kid sighs. “What are you so freaked out about, Bear?” he asks. “I thought you weren’t going to worry about stuff like this anymore.”
Shit, he has a point. Why am I freaking out? It’s not like I’m worried that anyone in that house is going to be able to take these two away from me. The only person who’s capable of something like that is going to be me, and no matter how stupid I can be sometimes, there’s no way in hell that I’m going to let that happen. Why should I care what his parents think?
Maybe it’s because Alice and Jerry were better parental figures than my mother ever was. Maybe it’s because I can’t stand the thought of the disapproval I could see on their faces. They hadn’t taken Otter’s own coming out very well, regardless of how liberal they seem. I remember the ache I heard in Otter’s voice when he’d told me about how he’d finally gotten the courage to tell his parents about himself, how he’d expected there to be questions and possibly tears. What he hadn’t expected was the crushing silence he’d gotten, the looks of disbelief that turned into confusion and anger. Words were said, things that I know still haunt Otter to this day.
They’d formed an uneasy truce after a time, but his sexuality has always been an uncomfortable topic of conversation. I know they love him (how could they not?), but when Otter had described the hurt in their eyes and the despair he’d felt, I could only feel myself grow angry at them, regardless of how hypocritical that was.
And maybe I’m freaked out because they see me as their son too.
Imagine having two gay kids. Crap.
It isn’t just about you, though, is it? it chuckles, that damnable voice I don’t think I’ll ever escape. Yes, you’re freaked out, yes, you are worried about what they will think, but can’t you hear yourself? It’s not always about you, Bear, no matter how much you’d like to think it is. For once in your damn life, stop worrying about what others think of you when you should really be wondering just how much Otter needs you right now. You said it yourself: they can’t take the guys away from you. He has so much more to lose than you.
