I can hear the words out of your own mouth, Theo. My face heats up.
Jackson smiles to himself, remembering this memory I can already tell is too intimate, more than I ever thought I’d want to know. “I told him I’d seen him while driving several times and he seemed innocent, but better not turn out to be a murderer. Naturally, he found me suspicious for having an idea who he was, so he made a joke and threw his shoulder against the door, like he was trying to bust out.”
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.”