He opens his eyes again. “You’re emotionally stunted.”

“That’s not advice. That’s insulting and you being a jerk.”

“It’s not insulting. It’s merely stating fact. And I am not a jerk. I am the light of your life.”

“A very dim light that’s threatening to burn out.”

“Brighter than everything else you know,” he assures me.

“How am I emotionally stunted?” I’m trying to sound offended, but we all know it’s true. With the shit I’ve been through in my life, I have to be stunted somewhere, I’m sure. At least it’s emotionally and not physically. I don’t know how much harder life would be if I were a dwarf. Or a midget. Or whatever is politically correct these days. Little person? Height-challenged? Elf?

“I could have said emotionally fucked up.”

“Gee. Thanks for your tact. It’s appreciated more than I could say.” I’m going to throw sand in his face and cackle as he screams in his blindness. That will show him.

“You’re welcome. Are you going to listen or not?”

“You could be nicer.”

“See? Emotionally stunted.”

“I have a mental deficiency,” I remind him. “Proven by therapy and all. I could so very easily snap if you continue to antagonize me.”

He snorts. “That’s got nothing to do with it. It’s simple, really.”

“How do you figure?”

“You have questions.”

“Right.” I hate that he knows me so well. And I hate that I do have questions. Questions mean there are things I don’t know. I don’t like not knowing things.

“Other people have answers.”

“I suppose.”

“Logically, one of these things can lead to the other.”

“Logically, sure.”

“You’re being difficult,” he says with a sigh.

“Intentionally so,” I admit. “But it’s not as easy as you’re making it sound.”

“It’s not as hard as you’re making it out to be.”

I groan. “Goddammit. I said that exact same thing to my brother once. A long time ago. Jesus, as if I needed any more evidence that I’m Bear Part Two. How depressing.” There is no hope for me.

“That’s not so bad, you know. Being your brother.”

“That’s what you think.”

“He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“I wouldn’t quite put it that way. Unless you only meant literally.”

“He’s in a stable and loving relationship.”

“Otter has the patience of a saint. And Bear’s probably a witch and trapped him with a tongue of newt and eye of porpoise.”

“He’s ready to start a family.”

“Oh God, don’t remind me. I’m pretty sure it’s a sign of the apocalypse when Bear Thompson considers breeding. Can you imagine the children? It’s going to be all Village of the Damned.” You think I’m joking, but I really don’t know how I feel about it. Not on a personal level, of course, but more on a global scale. It’s not that hard to imagine Bear becoming the leader of a cult made up of his offspring. At the very worst, it would mean the end of the world. At the very best, they would never stop talking. It’s better for me to think globally rather than personally. I’m too much of a selfish asshole to be truly happy about it yet.