Becoming the Bear

"Hey, Mitch!" The voice penetrated Mitch's fog of memories. He snapped back to the present and looked around. "Man, you must have been a million miles away... I called you about three times!" the voice said.

Mitch looked at the man standing there, hairy hand extended, a grin on his face. He was bald in the typical male horseshoe pattern. He had a big thick beard, slightly wild and on the long side, a lot of it dark red but with substantial amounts of silver throughout. The hair in his mustache was lighter red mixed with silver and there was a pure, silver-white patch of hair on his chin below his lips bounded on either side of his chin by a very dark inch wide patch of almost pure red beard that tapered up into his mustache. The hair that was a fringe around his head seemed to be evenly mixed between silver and red. He was a very large man, substantially bigger than Mitch. He was muscular, even his wool suit didn't hide that, but you could also tell he indulged in a second helping occasionally, too; because the suit didn't hide that either. He looked like an ex-pro football lineman or something. Mitch felt a stirring in his loins looking at the ursine man as he took his hairy paw.

"Do you remember me?" The man asked expectantly in a bass voice.

Mitch looked at the sticker on the pocket of the brown suit coat and read the name. "Norman 'Moose' Gretsky"

"It's me, Moose!" He said and his face was alight with cheer. "I've been lookin' for you at these things for decades. You finally came!"

Mitch kept the smile on his face, but he was less than thrilled. Moose was, after all, the one who had branded him with the name "Captain Hairball".

As if reading his thoughts Moose said, "Ol' Captain Hairball! He paused and took a breath. "Hey, I'm sorry about all the grief I caused you back in school. I wanted to say sorry back then, but I was a thick headed, prideful kid and didn't know how."

That was it. That was the starting flag! The nickname gave Mitch full permission for what was to happen next. Moose had opened the door and now Mitch was going to rush through it. Moose let go of Mitch's hand and Mitch proceeded to say something he'd always dreamed of saying, something he'd rehearsed over and over. All the lockeroom and classroom memories bubbled up to fuel what came next.

"Moose, I don't know if you even had the barest inkling that what you and the others did to me was cruel. It was mre than that, it was crippling. It made me feel like I was less than human and all that over something completely beyond my control. I hope you understand, now that you're an adult. And I hope that if you have kids, you've taught them better than that. I hope they've learned just how deeply words can cut, I hope you taught them that. I haven't been back to this place in forty years because of what you guys did to me..." Ashen-faced, Moose started to interrupt, but Mitch barreled on. "...the practical jokes, the teasing and name calling... Goddammit, they hurt! Every time I got one of those reunion letters, I tore it up as if tearing it up and throwing it away would destroy some of the hurt I felt." Mitch worked himself to a climax. "So I hope you've raised your own kids better. I hope at the very least you've learned not to ridicule people for things they can't help."

Mitch stood there triumphant, victorious. He had kept an even, strong tone of voice using emphasis in just the right places to verbally punch this man. It was the same voice he used when lecturing and certainly, he'd just given the most heartfelt lecture of his life.

Moose stood there, shock on his face but more stunningly, tears standing in his eyes. Without any warning, Moose grabbed Mitch in a big bear hug and whispered in a voice choked with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Mitch."

He released Mitch, quickly wiped his eyes and made an almost embarrassed exit. Another man, somewhat rotund with a red-gold, neatly trimmed beard called after him, "Norman, Norman..." The short, stout man took one dagger-filled look at Mitch and hurried after Moose.

Mitch stared after the two retreating men. No doubt, about it, Moose had meant what he said. Moose really was sorry.

Chapter 3

But damn, it had felt good! He'd felt so exultant seeing the shock on Moose's face. He had dealt a verbal blow that obviously had struck deep in Moose's heart in the same way all the taunting and teasing had hurt him.

So why did he now feel... flat? What started as a heady, fizzy feeling of success now tasted more like old, warm champagne. What was the phrase from Hamlet '...stale, flat and unprofitable'? That was how it really felt. Mitch sat down on a handy folding chair next to an empty table and thought for a bit. It had been forty years, and that was a long time to nurse a hurt. On the other had, it HAD hurt... a lot; and for Moose to remember it and to actually try to make up for it meant that Moose himself had been thinking about it as long as he had. Perhaps Moose really was sorry. Maybe he'd been wrong to hang on to the hurt and the hate for that long.

As Mitch gazed around the slowly filling gym, a familiar little voice in his head piped up. "Why should I have to be a nice guy about it? After all, I was the one who was wronged. I was the one who was excluded and tormented over something I had no control over, right? Damn straight!" Mitch pushed that voice back down deep, where it had been for much of his adult life. What the voice said might have some truth to it but the voice was also that of a wounded young man, not a mature one. It was a different voice that spoke to him of how he'd made Moose suffer just now. That voice understood compassion and was the one that made him feel like he had to go out there and talk to Moose to make him feel better.

"Why?" The first voice asked. "Why do I feel bad for doing that? I had every right to do that."

"Perhaps it was that look in the eyes of the other man, the look that said, 'You've hurt someone I love,'" the second voice said. "Perhaps it was because Moose has been torturing himself all these years and may have been coming to these stupid reunions all along to apologize to you. Perhaps it's because Moose really is a nice guy, after all," the second voice finished simply.

Mitch sat there and finally said to himself, "You're a jerk, Mitch. Now go fix it."

Mitch walked outside into the cool evening and looked around. People were still arriving so he wove in and out through the clumps of people standing around talking while they waited to check in. There, about 100 yards away on a bench sat the bearded, bald, handsome bear of a man, Moose; and his equally gorgeous buddy. They were talking intently and Mitch took the opportunity to skirt around them so they wouldn't see his approach until he was close enough to speak without shouting. As he got within distance to hear what they were talking about, he coughed politely to announce his presence. The two looked silently up at Mitch.

Moose was a little red-eyed, but that was all. The red-gold bearded man regarded Mitch as if waiting to respond to a further attack. There was an awkward silence and Mitch was about to speak when Moose said, "Look, Mitch, I guess I deserved that. It's just I've been coming to these things because I'd hoped I would see you so that I could apologize. I guess maybe I thought it might go better than it did. I'd fantasized that we'd smooth it over and have a good chuckle about the names. I'd hoped you'd say, 'Ah, forget about it, that was ages ago'. I'm sorry; I guess it still hurts you a lot."

Mitch spoke up, "I'm sorry too. We're both grown men but I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry if what I said hurt you." It was lame, he knew; but then he never had planned an apology of his own. He never thought he'd need one.

"Well, what you said in there was nothing next to the torture I put you through. I saddled you with those names and there's really no excuse for it, but there is an explanation, if you'll hear it." Moose looked over at the man sitting next to him and took his hand lovingly in his own, then looked back at Mitch. Mitch noticed that the men both wore simple gold rings with identical geometric designs.

"See, Mitch, I'm gay. I knew I was gay back then, too; and well, I was a little bit attracted to you back then, and I hated myself for it. I was young and confused. I was... I was angry and afraid and paranoid that someone might find out. I was scared of what my father might do to me if he found out. I guess I directed some of that anger toward you."

All this had tumbled out. Moose paused and took a breath. "It took me years to understand that about myself and when I finally did, I wanted to tell you and couldn't. I couldn't face the possible ridicule I might get from you for admitting that I was attracted to all that hair you had on you. I finally screwed up the courage to tell you about twenty years ago; about the same time I came out of the closet..." Moose looked into the eyes of the short man who had moved closer to Moose while he was talking. The man had put an arm around him in an almost protective way. Moose looked back at Mitch and continued. "After my divorce, I met Rusty here, and we started living together. Of course, my ex took my kids and made sure I didn't see them. I couldn't even get visitation rights because back then they wouldn't allow that for gay fathers. By the time I could see them, their mother had poisoned them against me. I sent gifts on their birthdays and Christmas and at first, they were just returned. Then they were returned all torn up. I confronted my ex with it and she said the kids had destroyed them because they didn't want anything from me. I didn't know if it was true, but it still hurt. I took the hint and stopped having any contact with them. What you said about raising my kids really hit me hard because I wasn't allowed to raise them. I guess I deserved it. What goes around comes around, right?"

"Yes," Mitch said, "and it's gone around enough; too far in fact. It should have stopped with me." Mitch moved to the other side of Moose and sat down. "If I had known; if I had kept my mouth shut long enough to let you continue, I guess I might have found that out and not said those things. I wish I could take them back."

Moose blinked and smiled. He pulled Mitch into a hug and growled out, "It's OK, it's forgotten. I'm just sorry that I didn't have the chance to know you better forty years ago. If I could have gotten over my self-loathing, I might have tried to be your friend instead of your tormentor. How about we try now?"

Moose released Mitch from the hug and Rusty spoke for the first time.

"And to think that only took forty years to resolve this; amazing." Rusty smiled, first at his lover, then at Mitch. "You know, he's been going on about you for as long as I've known him and to tell you the truth, I was a bit jealous for the first ten years or so; but I've come to accept that he's not holding a torch. He's just a nice guy who's wanted to set things right all these years," Rusty's eyes were shiny as he petted the back of Moose's head.

"Well, shall we go back in, grab some punch and catch up with everything over dinner? I hear the menu for tonight is rubber chicken surprise or pork loin a la hockey puck, your choice. Oh, yes, and over-cooked vegetables with rutabaga sauce," Rusty said merrily in a light tenor.

"Sounds good to me, even if its roast hyena... I'm starved." Moose said.

The three got up from the bench and headed toward the gymnasium.

Two men stood deep in the shadows nearby, unseen and upwind of the trio. An iron-gray bearded man who looked to be about forty-five or so dressed in black boots, blue jeans, white oxford shirt and gray wool suit coat with no tie watched them leave. One could tell by how he wore the shirt and coat that this was as 'dressed up' as he ever got.

The man smiled to himself and said quietly to his companion, "He finally made it to one of these things after all these years and it looks like he's made new friends. I guess my persistence paid off."

The other man standing by was as tall as his companion, looked to be about the same age, but with a blond gray beard. He was a bit chubby but it was obvious he was strongly built under his layers of padding... the kind of man who could add that weight to his already strong muscular punch for devastating effect in the boxing ring. He wore a worn black leather jacket that was a little tight on him, new dark blue jeans and worn black boots. He puffed on the last three inches of a fat cigar, the reason for standing upwind as they watched the others. The whole effect made him look powerful, imposing... and a little dangerous.

He growled around the cigar in a gravelly voice to the iron-gray bearded man, "You better get on in there, son. You've waited forty years for this, I'm sure he'll remember you. He was a good kid with a lot of inner strength. If he hadn't have been, he would have crumbled and never done anything with his life."

The gray bearded man laughed, "Yeah, he's a tough one, even though he doesn't know it. I'll see you up in Tahoe in a couple of weeks, should be good skiing by then."

There was some sort of announcement calling the attendees to the gym.

"I'll see you then." The leather-clad man said. Removing the cigar from his lips with thick hairy fingers, he pulled his companion to him and gave him a kiss full of smoke and tongue. "Have fun, boy," he said as he broke the kiss and replaced the cigar.

The blond gray man began to lumber away but stopped suddenly, turned to his companion who was watching him leave and without warning and with what seemed to be uncharacteristic refinement for a man so large and clumsy looking, began to waltz as if holding a phantom partner to a tune apparently only he could hear. His movements were precise, his body carriage erect and formal, the smile on his brutishly handsome bearded face distant, pleasant, sincere and serene as if he were lost in memory. His steps were of seemingly unnatural grace as he puffed away on his cigar. He stopped, winked and bowed to the gray bearded man who was laughing.

The gray blond man was showing off; a whim he indulged in on rare occasion. They waved goodbye to each other, and the man in the gray wool suit jacket turned to go to the gym.

The other puffed on his cigar and walked to the parking lot, his next few steps light, poised, catlike and as if switching mental gears, he returned to his lumbering, functional gait.

"So many memories this place brings back," He said softly as he walked away. "...so many memories."

Chapter 4

Mitch had thought he'd just leave after he'd made up for his attack on Moose, but Rusty had sort of changed his plans. He could read that Rusty really wanted the 'healing' to continue, that it wasn't enough to just 'make up and dash'.

The three of them sat at a four-person table, with a seat remaining empty, talking as they waited for the evening's activities to begin. Moose said they'd most likely trot out old school pictures from the yearbook and project them on the screen behind the speaker's podium as they had at prior reunions. A speaker, one of the alumni, would present a 'then and now' report on all the former students and of course, toward the end of the presentation news of those who had passed on since the last reunion with a moment of silence to follow. It was depressing, but expected; and then, the dancing.

Mitch got around to asking about Mr. Franklin and Moose smiled and admitted quietly, "I really had it bad for The Coach."

Mitch laughed. "He was something else." He said in a non-committal way. He didn't necessarily want to 'come out' to Moose and Rusty, at least not right now.

"Do you remember the 'Back to School Night' when coach Franklin's shower wasn't working and he had to shower with us?" Moose asked.

"I vaguely remember that." Mitch lied. Forty years had passed and Coach was still a favorite jack off fantasy.

"I have a confession to make." Moose said in a whisper. Mitch looked at Rusty who rolled his eyes in a, "Not that old chestnut again" way but didn't interrupt.

"I was the one who caused that to happen." Moose said.

Mitch was surprised, "Really? How?" he asked.

"Well, my dad was a plumber and I used to go out with him in the summer and help him out on the job. I didn't really work much on things, but I found out all sorts of things about plumbing." Moose said.

Mitch gave a quizzical look and Rusty interrupted, "It's true, he's still pretty good at fixing plumbing problems around the house. We've only had to call a plumber twice and those were both major issues."

"I could have fixed them." Moose said.

"Yes, well seeing as you were the cause of one of them and didn't get it fixed in the two days after, on the third day I thought it prudent to get professional help." Rusty said with a smile.

"Well, anyway," Moose continued, "I'd learned a bit about plumbing and had gotten into the back rooms of the gym where the water heaters and plumbing were a couple of times. I'd managed steal a key from one of the maintenance guys. I traced the pipes back to the coach's office and sort of loosened the fittings to the pipes with an available pipe wrench. I didn't know at the time that they'd be working on it during Back to School Night, all I wanted to do was fix it so the coach's shower wouldn't work and maybe he'd have to shower with us after practice. I'd hoped I'd get a look at him and boy, did I!"

"You did?" Mitch asked again in the non-committal way.

"Yep! I was showering at the other end, about three stations over and managed to not get caught looking." Moose said with a big grin.

"Now you see the kind of man I'm married to? A complete sex maniac and has been since high school." Rusty said wryly to Mitch.

"Yeah, I remember that day now." Mitch said.

At about the time Moose had finished his story a tall man with an iron-gray beard in a suit coat, shirt and jeans interrupted the trio.

"May I sit here?" the man said smiling widely. Mitch felt a twinge in his crotch looking at him.

The three looked up at the newcomer and Moose said, "Sure! How have you been Walt?"

Mitch's eyes widened as he looked at the bearded, pony-tailed man standing. "Yep, it's me, Mitch... you finally made it to one of these!" Walt extended his paw to Mitch and Mitch started to shake it, but Walt took a firm grasp on the offered hand and pulled him up out of his seat to give him a bear hug. "Heh, looks like we've both filled out a little over the years; it's good to see you!" Walt thumped Mitch on the back and released him.

The two men sat and began to fill each other in on their lives. Walt had seen Moose and Rusty at other reunions, but rarely in between, so there was news to share there as well. The conversation flowed easily between them as the meal progressed.

"This stuff is, umm, chewy... I wonder what kind of animal it came from," Moose said, poking at the gray substance on his plate.

"Oh Norman, stop complaining and eat your soylent green." Rusty said with a grin.

"Be glad you didn't take the fried rubber," said Walt, pushing the circular black objects to one side. "The veggies aren't too bad."

"I swear the food gets worse every time." Rusty gazed at Moose. "Did YOU do the cooking?"

"Oh, you are SO getting swatted for that!" Moose growled.

"Oooh, when?" Rusty asked with playful excitement.

"Later... we don't want to shock the children." Moose grinned, nodding towards the rest of the crowd.

"Actually," Rusty said to the others, "he's not half bad in the kitchen. He's learned a lot since the days of beanie weenie casserole and mac and cheese when I first met him. Not as good as I am, but he's learning and he's great in the sack; so that makes up for a multitude of sins." Rusty said and smiled an evil smile. Moose actually coughed, blushed and looked down at his shoes in embarrassment.