AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I stop him. “Anything else here catching your eye?”
“Not really.”
“I was counting the games you looked at and you stopped at three . . .”
“Okay.” He’s confused.
“I have this thing with numbers. I prefer things to be done in evens.”
“I didn’t even hear you counting.”
“I was counting in my head. I’m always counting in my head. Sometimes I don’t even realize it, but I know I am.” I know how this sounds, and I want to be able to tell him and the rest of the world that it’s okay, that we don’t have to get caught up on odd occurrences like this, but I know it won’t be okay—if I can control something for my sanity, I want to give myself that relief. “Three makes me really anxious in ways that one doesn’t because things often come in ones, so three marks the first odd number where I’m always anticipating a fourth whatever. I can’t focus otherwise.”
Jackson nods and picks up some discounted Halo sequel. It doesn’t feel as natural as the first three games he reviewed so I’m tempted to ask him to check out two more games. That way I’ll have two sets of three, and I can clock out of this moment with a glowing six, but I accept it and move on.
“Thanks,” I say.
If he’s judging me, I can’t read it on him. I don’t believe he has that ugliness inside of him, truthfully, unlike some of my classmates these past few months—you know nothing about this—as my compulsions worsened.
“Anytime,” Jackson says. He continues cruising the aisles, and every now and again I catch him glancing at me; it’s possible I’ve ruined his browsing experience by making him extra conscious of doing everything in even numbers. But maybe not. He seems relaxed here, like he’s ditched his grief at the door, unaware it will continue stalking him the moment we leave. His peace reminds me of you on the floor in front of a puzzle.
We wander over to a display of classics. Your weight pins me down even more when I see those cartridges lined up. I never owned any of these consoles, but you were obsessed: the first PlayStation and Nintendo, Sega Genesis, the short-lived Dreamcast, and a bulky Game Boy that couldn’t possibly fit in anyone’s pocket. I smile in spite of myself at the dusty glass shelves, remembering times I played some of them with you or watched you kick ass while I did homework: Pac-Man, Space Invaders, Earthworm Jim, Sonic, Mortal Kombat, Batman, on and on.
“It’s like a flea market,” Jackson says.
“Except not.” I point to a not for sale sign. “I like that it’s just a shrine.”
“Bonus points for it not being in a museum.”
I spot a cartridge on a lower shelf. Tetris. I sit on my knees. Jackson crouches and joins me.
“His favorite,” Jackson says.
The comment doesn’t bother me the way others have because you playing Tetris isn’t a very intimate detail. Hell, even your teachers knew about your Tetris addiction from all the times they confiscated your phone during class. Jackson presses his hand against the case. Maybe he’s forgotten I’m there, here, right next to him.
I have a story for Jackson.
“Did Theo ever tell you about Mac: The Family Curse?”
“No.”
“He hated it so much. I mean most people would hate it. But he thought it would be perfect because it was this game where you get around doing physics-based puzzles. But there were so many glitches that Theo charged himself with going back to the store to buy out all the copies so no one else had to suffer through it. I bet him two dollars he wouldn’t do it. I lost.”
Jackson laughs a little, which is awesome because this was basically a forty-dollar joke on you—well, thirty-eight-dollar joke, since you made two bucks back.
“He ranted about the game for days. Sometimes I would wake up to a text about something else he hated about it or found illogical.” I’m smiling again, and this time I’m smiling with him, which is a nice little recess from confusion and heartache and guilt and unhappiness. It’s the kind of relief I felt whenever I was stuck home sick, missing your face and voice, and then you would call me the second school was over and I would feel whole again. I would give everything to be able to play Tetris with you right now. Knowing I can’t rips away the moment and banishes me back to this empty universe.
“I’ll wait for you outside,” I tell Jackson.
I get up and leave so quickly I’m sure the blue-haired cashier thinks I probably pocketed a Yoshi key chain or something. The cold air bites my face, a useless zombie kiss. Jackson joins me a few seconds later, empty-handed. If he was planning on shopping—shitty timing to buy a game, if so—I totally ruined that for him.
“I’m sorry I made you talk about him,” he says. “I didn’t know that story. It’s weird, but it’s cool to learn something new about him instead of remembering all our good times, you know?”
“It’s good to talk about him,” I agree. “It always is.” But it sucks that I’m talking about you, and to you, and that you can’t talk back—something Jackson will be going back to California not ever knowing. “I know talking about Theo keeps him alive. But that doesn’t make it any less hard that he isn’t walking around here, keeping himself alive.”
Jackson nods and pockets his hands, shivering. That’s all. He’s staring at me the same way that I’m staring at him—in misery. I won’t lie to him about how I’m sure this will get better, and he doesn’t try consoling me with any of that nonsense, either. I move to his left and lead us back toward your house.
“Here we are.”
