AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I guess it’s not that taboo to share,” I say. Some of my wishes would also require a resurrection to come true.
I tell Jackson some of the things I wished for, like your mom’s good health when she had that breast cancer scare. How I wanted you so badly to have a scholarship so your parents would have more money in their pockets to fly you back and forth to New York whenever you missed home. I don’t tell Jackson about some of the other wishes I made, like on this past New Year’s Eve, where I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe because I was wishing you would call at midnight and tell me you missed me and loved me and would come back to me and be mine again someday soon.
“That was really nice of you,” Jackson says. “Selfless.”
“I only ever wanted the best for him,” I say. I’m not sure I believe I was the best fit for you, Theo, but I do think I was better than Jackson.
Jackson digs around his coat pocket, pulls out a handful of change, closes his eyes, mouths something, and tosses all the coins into the fountain.
I’m not asking him what he wished for.
He steps side to side, his shoes sloshing, rubbing his arms. “It’s cold,” he says.
I can barely survive another minute of this myself. I’m ready to call it a night, but I don’t have much to look forward to alone in my room. “It’s also late. If you want, you can come back to my place for a bit to talk.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jackson says. “Maybe there’s a coffee shop open?”
“My dad is awake, and he’ll feel a lot more comfortable going to sleep if I’m home,” I say. “But if you think it’s weird, it’s okay.”
“No, I want to keep talking. Let’s go. Should we take a cab, though? I’m not sure I can survive a walk.”
I’d give your West Coast boy shit for not toughing it out, but a ride sounds nice. We head uptown along the curb, heading in the direction of my building as we wait for an empty cab in the dead of night. One finally pulls over beside us after a bit. Jackson jumps in first, warming up behind the driver—on what will be my left side if I get in. I consider settling into the right side, just angling my body so I’m facing him, but I’m already clawing at my numb palm, so I race around the other side and open the door.
“Stealing your seat,” I tell him.
He shifts to the right and I get inside. If he’s confused or troubled, he doesn’t show it. How much did you tell him about me, Theo? Does he know about my OCD? He closes the door on his side as I do mine. I give the driver my address and we’re there in eight minutes. I pay in cash and we get out, running into my building.
It was 2011 when you came over to my house for the first time. Your parents were spending the day with Denise at her classmate’s birthday party. They didn’t want you home alone. Your parents called mine, and I got really excited when my dad told me you were coming over for a few hours because we were on summer break and it was harder to hang. You brought over a puzzle of a medieval castle while we watched X-Men DVDs. As we put it together we made our own plans to see each other again soon—assuming my parents were cool with me running wild with you, of course—and I could feel how much you missed me too, and it was cool, even if we never said it.
But bringing Jackson home is something completely different.
The outside of my building looks sort of fancy, but as we go inside, I can’t help but notice things I never paid attention to before: the lack of a doorman; chipped paint on the dark-blue railings; the smudges of fingerprints on the elevator buttons, no one employed by the superintendent to wipe them clean daily; the yellowed stain on the hallway carpet. I’m hoping Jackson doesn’t see them. It’s stupid because I know I go to a private school and get healthy monthly allowances, but I hate that Jackson will compare the awesomeness of your building to mine and feel sure that you were always above someone like me.
We reach my door. Jackson leans against the wall.
I unlock the door and peek in, finding my dad asleep with my mom on the couch, the TV still on. It’ll be hard to have a conversation with Jackson in the living room with them there. We tiptoe inside and head straight to my bedroom, and Jackson closes the door behind us.
“I swear my parents have their own room,” I say. “My mom just likes sleeping on the couch from time to time.”
Jackson doesn’t reply. He takes in my room, starting with the framed photos of you on my bed. Outside, stories of you with him can prick and stab me. But here in my room, where memories of you are leaping off the bed and shelves and walls and desk, we’re on my turf. I can use our history as a weapon if I want to. Except I don’t. I’m not going to take your death out on him, especially not with you watching.
I can’t watch him.
Jackson moves over to my bed, hovering over the photos before finally picking up the one of you smiling at me from the bench. “What was the occasion?” he asks quietly.
“My parents’ anniversary, couple Aprils ago,” I say. “They’ve been together since they were seventeen, I think. I don’t know, my dad claims sixteen and my mom says seventeen, but I think they’re counting different anniversaries, if you get what I’m saying.” I shouldn’t look at that photo with Jackson here because I might crack, but I miss seeing your smile outside my memory, so I join him. “That was a chill afternoon.”
“Your parents have a good marriage?”
“Yeah, they’re great. I get confused sometimes when I walk into a room and find them talking and laughing. I figured they would’ve said everything that’s to be said by now, you know? Nope. They never shut the hell up, and I love it.” Only then do I realize he’s asking because of his own parents.
Jackson sits down on my desk chair, shrugging in his big coat. He glances up at me, clearly bummed out, then looks back at the wedding anniversary photo. “I’m not even going to pretend you haven’t had the same dreams as me. I know you loved Theo like that, too.”
Love. I love you; this isn’t a past-tense love.
He doesn’t wait for me to say anything before he goes on. “But people don’t take me seriously, like I’m not allowed to be destroyed over Theo and love because I’m not even old enough to legally drink. My dad actually had the balls to tell me I have the rest of my life to fall in love again.”
“Sounds like you need to skip some weekend visits when you’re back home.”
