History Is All You Left Me

by Adam Silvera

  That sounds like you.

  There’s some laughter behind me.

  “Theo was shivering. He got my SMC sweater from the backseat—I didn’t even offer it to him; he just took it—and he told me he just started classes there, too. I warned him about this creepy professor on campus, and we got to know each other over a fifteen-minute drive. I never told Theo this, but I considered getting lost to spend more time with him. I should’ve told him.”

  Jackson pauses.

  I’m at war with myself. I’m hating the sadness over you he’s owning, but I’m sympathizing with him because it’s you he’s messed up over. I also wish some of the things I have to tell you were sweet like this and not things that will change the way you see me.

  My nails dig into my palm.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell him that, but we exchanged numbers and hung out on campus. I did tell him that I was attracted to him at the end of an awesome day we spent together. I did that much.” Jackson’s lips quiver for a second before it becomes a full-on cry. And, I don’t know, it looks more like happy crying. I almost feel compelled to bounce up and hug him or pat his back. I beat on myself as I picture you helpless in the ocean. “Even if I only got to spend that first drive to the planetarium with Theo, he broke me in a way everyone should be lucky to be cracked open at least once. I had the privilege of being destroyed by him until we found a better, real me inside of the person I was pretending to be. I hope I make him proud.”

  Jackson turns to you. “Thank you, Theodore,” he concludes.

  He returns to his seat, where he leans forward, holding his stomach and hiding his face with his other hand.

  The service comes to a close, which is good for my heart and head, but I would suffer through a thousand more stories about you if there were people here to tell them. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

  Tomorrow morning we’re burying you.

  HISTORY

  Sunday, June 15th, 2014

  I’m sure I’ll sound psychotic if I ever try explaining my growing awareness with even numbers to anyone, even Theo—especially Theo—because it’s definitely verging on obsessive. When Theo and I were making out at the train station after school on Friday, I found myself counting our kisses. I don’t mean like one, two, three, four, and onward, but more like one, two, one, two, one, two to make sure we remained even. And when Theo pulled away at an odd kiss, I’d move back in for another. There are bigger problems than getting to kiss Theo again, but the counting is creeping into the rest of my life, too. Like how today’s odd-numbered date is making me a little anxious. How I’ve now sneezed three times straight and am wishing a fourth would follow.

  Oh yeah, I have a cold.

  It turns out running through the rain and playing trivia in a very cold diner is both the perfect first date and the perfect recipe to make someone sick. I’m that someone. Theo dodged this bullet, but he’s throwing himself back in the crossfire just to keep me company.

  “Are we done with the sneezing?” Theo asks.

  I’d be really grateful for one more sneeze. “You didn’t have to come over!”

  We’re on the floor of my bedroom, piecing together his zombie-pirate puzzle.

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t having much luck with level nineteen of Tetris because I couldn’t get my brain to stop missing you,” Theo says. “I’m not worried about getting sick. I just need you to finish building the plank for The Bloodcurdling Crawler, stat.”

  “I know, I know.” I sniff. “I just feel really conflicted because if I build the plank, it means the zombie pirate hanging off of it will climb into the ship and infect the human pirates, or even straight-up kill them.” I look at him. “I sort of want to prevent the apocalypse, if that makes sense.”

  “But if the apocalypse doesn’t happen, we won’t be the last two dudes in the world charged with rebuilding the population,” Theo says.

  “You’re the dumbest genius if you think that’s how reproduction works.”

  “Oh, I get it. I’m just not going to let that stop us from trying.”

  I don’t know if Theo is smiling because he’s imagining us having sex or because he likes making me uncomfortable, but I do know that I don’t have the balls to continue this conversation. I collect all the pieces for the plank and put them together like a good little soldier. And damn, now I’m thinking about role-playing where I’m some peon soldier taking orders from Sergeant Theo McIntyre, and when he asks me to drop down and give him one hundred I . . . okay, I have to stop. I adjust the blanket around my shoulders to shield my lap from his eyes.

  “You’re still cold?” Theo gets up and grabs his green hoodie off the radiator. “Here, it’s dry now. There’s got to be some scientific study somewhere that proves your boyfriend’s sweater will keep you warmer and cure you of any illnesses a lot faster than some Pottery Barn blanket.”

  “It’s actually from Target.” I keep the blanket where it is while slipping into Theo’s sweater. It smells like his grandmother’s flower shop, and it fits me as snugly as it does Theo. “Thanks, dude.”

  “You look really good in green,” Theo says. “Keep it.”

  “Double thanks, dude.”

  The puzzle is really a work in progress: the ship has holes in it, as if uninfected humans were wise to the zombie virus and had already begun shooting cannonballs. The ocean—which Theo has charged himself with completing—also has tons of holes, like a series of really deep whirlpools threatening to swallow the ship whole. There’s a pirate onboard who’s currently headless because Theo has the necessary piece on his side. The sky is dark and broken, my fault, as always. And I only mess it up further when I lean over to give Theo a thank-you kiss, resting my knee on it and accidentally sliding some of the pieces apart. My thank-you kiss was supposed to be a two-off, but Theo pulls me into his lap and locks me in, turning it into something more.

  Theo stops, and we breathe. “Do you want to . . . ?”

  “Want to . . . what?” This could seriously mean a thousand things: Do I want to put away the puzzle and take our kissing to the bed? Do I want to get completely naked, hurling my boxers across the room and have sex with him? Do I want to keep it simple, maybe let him jerk me off and I do the same for him? Do I want to take a nap because I’m freaking sick and shouldn’t be awake, let alone getting physical?

  “Don’t make me say it,” he says.

  Theo is blushing. I’ve made him feel awkward.

  “I’m sorry, but if you don’t tell me what you want, I’m just going to go ahead and assume you mean crochet a new sweater for you.”

  “You crochet, Griff?”

  “Stop playing cute, Theo.”

  Theo bites back a smile and shakes his head. “Do you want to practice repopulating the human race?”

  “But I’m sick.”

  “I know. All I ask is that you don’t sneeze on me.”

  I roll off of him because he’s on the floor, and we both know from past sleepovers that it’s not a comfortable floor to spend the night on. It is how we fell into our system where we both slept in each other’s beds, heads facing feet, snuggled up in our own blankets. But we don’t have to do that anymore. I stand and close the door, even though my parents are both out shopping for Theo’s sister’s birthday barbeque this week.

  I nod. “Let’s practice.”

  Something I’ve never considered about my first time: it’s the middle of the day. I always thought this was an evening thing, something you do and go to bed afterward, maybe watch some TV if you’re not too wiped out. But my parents are supposed to be out for another couple of hours. My mom and dad are both very particular about what they’re looking for when they’re shopping. Theo and I have enough time to get our act together—maybe even get our act together twice if the first time goes well, or, you know, ends early.

  “Do you
mind if I close the curtains?” I ask.

  “We’re on the sixth floor, Griff. I don’t think anyone is going to peek in.”

  “I know, but I think I’ll just be a little more comfortable if it’s darker.”

  “You know you’re handsome and beautiful, right?”

  “I like that you believe that, but I don’t want you rethinking it.”

  “No chance in hell, but whatever you want.”

  Theo moves over to the bed, sitting on the edge while I turn off the lights and draw the curtains shut. I stand there. Theo is good with words, but he’s better with action, he’s better with getting things done. It’s the part of him that can make it awkward for him to say the word “sex” but be totally coolheaded when the cards are actually on the table. He waves me over with two fingers and his stupid monkeylike, scrunched-up expression that always cracks me up.

  I hesitate. “Maybe we should play some music . . .”

  “Griffin, we don’t have to do this if you’d rather wait.”

  “No, I want to. I just want some music. Sorry if that’s stupid.”

  I feel weird apologizing, but admitting that I’m trying to make this moment feel special just feels silly. I can’t rewind time and take it back. It’s been one week since I’ve been dating Theo, and there’s no alternate universe where I can envision myself not feeling embarrassed about our “anniversary.” I don’t want him to think I’m some loser for paying attention to stuff like that. I used to think it was lame whenever my parents celebrated yearly anniversaries. Look at me now: caring about one week. One week with someone I really like. One week with someone I’ve been waiting years for. I hope knowing what it’s like to spend one year with Theo won’t be left to my imagination.

  “It’s not stupid, Griff.”

  Theo throws out suggestions, like “Love Shack” for its pure ridiculousness, but we settle on his playlist with scores from action movies.

  It’s epic.

  The music playing on high will hopefully drown out any thoughts that may scare me from going through with this, and the drawn curtains make me feel just invisible enough that I don’t have to be self-conscious.

  I sit down beside Theo, who immediately holds my hand and kisses me. We lie down. When our shirts finally do come off, it’s different from all the times we’ve gone to the beach, since we never held each other shirtless.

  “Should we take off our pants at a countdown from three?”

  “How about four?”

  Theo smiles. “Right.”

  “Four . . .”

  I unzip his jeans while he untangles the knots of my pajamas.

  “Three . . .”

  I’m slowly sliding out of my own pajamas, bringing my boxers down too. I wait to make sure Theo is doing the same with his jeans and Tetris briefs before I commit. But he’s committed, too.

  “Two . . . One.”

  And just like that, we’re naked in my bed, our clothes at our feet.

  It’s weird. It’s weird how everything can change in one week. It’s weird how we went from best friends figuring out how to confess our feelings for each other to boyfriends. It’s weird how Theo was the one who accidentally knocked me off the jungle gym when we were younger, which left a heart-shaped scar on my hip, and now he’s able to see and trace the wrinkly scar he’s responsible for. It’s weird how we used to go into Theo’s backpack to grab an extra Xbox controller, and now I’m watching him run across the room naked to grab condoms—which he packed just in case we lost control of ourselves. It’s weird how it hurts at first; it’s weird how Theo’s talking to me to make sure I’m okay feels way better than everything else that’s happening. It’s weird how we’re learning how to do this together, how I don’t find myself counting, how I’m able to be here for him and be here for me without distraction, how I forget I have a cold. It’s weird how it’s nothing like I thought it would be from the countless hours of porn watching I’ve clocked. It’s weird how I can feel his love for me even though that’s not a word we’re throwing around, and I hope he can feel my love for him, too. It’s weird how when we’re done it doesn’t feel weird at all, how I never want to be invisible when I’m with him, and how I can’t believe I ever thought I would doubt this moment in the first place.

  “That’s a thing that happened,” Theo says as he rests his head on my chest.

  “It’s a weird thing that happened,” I say. “Good weird. It’s the best kind of weird. The type of weird that should win a medal for how good weird it was.”

  “What’s so good weird about it?”

  “Because I got to do this with you.” I stare at the ceiling. It could be a starless night sky. “But also because of how I feel. It’s like I’m the same me, but not really. Do you feel that way?”

  “Nope. I think you said it best: I’m good-weird different.” Theo turns over and rests on his stomach. “It took a lot of balls to stop beating around the bush and be fully honest with you, and I want full credit, dammit! I’m a new man! I’m good-weird different!” He pops up, kneeling and pumping his fist into the air. I want to go grab the sword and shield we won the other night and present them to him, but I’m too wiped. I’m remembering I have a cold now. “I’m Theo McIntyre, a dude who just had sex with another dude! A dude who loves another du—” He shuts up, probably wishing he possessed the power to rewind time and undo his words. He gestures around the bed. “Screw it. I love you, Griffin. I’m not even going to pretend that’s not what this is. You’re not brand-new to me. I’ve known this for a while. I’m actually happy I outed myself here.”

  I don’t know how to process being someone worthy of being someone’s first kiss, of being someone’s first date, of being someone’s first time, of being someone’s first love.

  This afternoon wins for its good weirdness.

  I smile and it finally comes: sneeze number four. “I’m supposed to be sick. I mean, I’m sick,” I say, my throat tickling.

  “Say what?”

  “Sorry, I, uh. I’m sick. This just seems like a really strange, I mean weird, I mean good-weird day for someone who should be eating soup and sleeping. I wasn’t even expecting to see you because I’m sick, but here you are. It’s been one week since we’ve been doing this dating thing, and we just had sex and you’re saying you’re in love with me and I’m just kind of like, what.”

  I wonder at what I just said. I’m either doing something very right or very wrong.

  Theo laughs and shakes his head. “You’re so awkward, Griff. You shouldn’t ever be let outside your room. Here’s my cue to insert some flirty comment about how I’ll lock myself in here with you, but I’m better than that. I think.” He lies down next to me, holding my hand. “Please don’t go crazy over this. If we want to play dumb over this, we can. I can redo this down the line whenever you’re ready.”

  I drag a finger across his jawline. I have the most honest boyfriend staring back at me. I have no reason to lie to him, and no reason to lie to myself. “You’re playing dumb already if you don’t think I love you back. But, officially, here it is: I love you, Theo. I love you, dude who had sex with another dude. I love you, dude who is in love with another dude.” Four times. I’ve told Theo I love him four times, and it was easier with each one. I picture each word like a fearless skydiver. An assembly of brave words just dove out of the clouds and landed in my bed.

  Theo and I stay there for a little bit longer, but when my mom texts me—asking me how I’m doing and telling me she’ll be home soon with hot soup—we know it’s time for him to go. There’s nothing suspicious about Theo’s being here, but we both know things are different now. Love and sex have been added to the recipe of our friendship. We’re something new. But, man, Theo and I getting dressed together is a kind of quiet miracle, what people don’t even know to dream about until it happens in real time. I try to cling to that dream, to the certain
ty that everything will feel as infinite as it does now so that our story will be like the high school sweetheart love story my parents have.

  “I’ll walk you out.” I help him put his backpack on, any excuse to touch him some more.

  “You say that to all the guys you sleep with, don’t you?”

  “Only the ones who are stupid enough to love me.”

  “So, what, ten dudes?”

  “You wish it was only ten dudes.”

  Theo and I kiss for approximately the thousandth time this afternoon, and as he walks out, he says, “See you later. Don’t forget that I love you. By the way, in case you were wondering, I still love you. Hey, you rock. Don’t change. If you change I might not love you anymore, which is something I do now. I love you times ten.”

  “If you love me, you won’t ever bring math into this again,” I say back, rubbing my nose.

  Theo keeps muttering “I love you; I love you” while going down the hall, as if those are the only three words in his vocabulary—and before he can turn the corner to the elevator, he stops and holds his hand to his ear.

  I mouth the words he’s waiting for. I add a “too” to bring the word count to four.

  Once I close the door, I miss him. It feels extremely pathetic, but I shake it off because it won’t feel that way when Theo and I are together years from now. I feel confident about that. I’m no longer listening to those doubts that make me feel inferior to Theo. And I also believe I’m Theo’s first time because he wanted it that way, and not because I was some trial run for someone worthier of him down the line. I don’t just believe it; I know it.

  He said he loves me. I believe that, too. But I want more. I want to know it.