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I turn to the window because I can’t “man up” and look him in the eyes. “I do suck, Wade. I’ve been really selfish, like my pain shadows everyone else’s. I had Jackson to talk to, and you’ve had no one this past month.”
“I have to ask,” Wade says, and then asks nothing for a stretch of time. “You and Jackson . . . ?” He spits the words out and closes his eyes like he’s behind the wheel of a car that’s flying off a cliff. “Are you and Jackson together or something? Forget it, I don’t want to know.” He looks around the room, probably wishing he could turn on the TV and distract himself, but he’s stuck here with me. Before I can say anything, he continues, “It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s not like we’re dating. I mean, what the hell are we doing, Griffin? Is this just sex? I don’t know if I can keep up with that if that’s all it’s supposed to be.”
“I think we should just be friends again,” I say.
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“It’s too complicated to attempt something more right now,” Wade says.
“We shouldn’t look at it like that. I think we’re better off as friends, period. I personally don’t want to be in a relationship again. Definitely not anytime in the near future. It’s too soon.”
“Okay,” Wade says. “And I’m better off not knowing anything about Jackson.”
The thing is, love doesn’t make sense anymore, and I feel lied to. Love isn’t this ultimate power that can make me feel unbeatable and all conquering. If I were truly in love with you, would I have turned to Wade? And if I were falling in love with Wade, would I have turned to Jackson? Maybe my self-destructive streak isn’t so much about cheating on a single person as it is about cheating on love itself. Love, the hugest liar in this universe.
“I could really use a friend again,” I say. “Can we be that?”
Wade nods. “Yeah, we can be friends.”
“I’m so sorry, Wade.”
So much guilt and anxiety has surrounded my evolving relationship with Wade that restricting ourselves to just friends feels like a disservice. It’s something we both thought we had a shot at turning into more. But this is what will save us in the long run.
I tell him about California, leaving out all mentions of having sex with Jackson and the role I played in your death. I want him to know how we paid tribute to you, and I want to preserve who you were for everyone else. No one else needs to spend the rest of his life second-guessing how much they actually meant to you.
“I’m proud of you for making it to the beach,” Wade says. “Both of you.”
It wasn’t easy. I couldn’t admit it before because you were listening, but I really, really wanted Wade there with me and Jackson. He would’ve fought the ocean too. Thinking about it, I can’t handle his compliment.
“I’m no longer talking to Jackson. We were a support system for each other for a while, but I think that was stupid and unhealthy. I should’ve been here with you and dealing with Theo instead of investigating more into his life with someone else. I’m sorry. Again.” A second apology. An even number.
“Let’s do that then,” Wade says.
“Really?”
“Maybe you’re Theo’d out, but I miss the guy.”
Exchanging Theo stories is so exhausting—both good and bad—I wish I could crawl into bed beside Wade right now and fall asleep against his chest. But my dad is texting, telling me to come home before it gets darker, which is probably for the best because if I spend any more time here, I won’t be able to stop myself from making a move on Wade.
“I got to go,” I say, putting away my phone.
“You’re not going to vanish on me again, right?”
“No.” I hope I won’t, at least.
“I’m thinking about visiting Denise and Theo’s parents this week. You should tag along,” Wade says. “I’m sure they could go for seeing some friendly faces this month.”
“I’m not sure we should really be going to Theo’s house together,” I say.
“Why not? Griffin, you didn’t cheat on Theo. Theo was dating Jackson and you were single. We did nothing wrong,” Wade says. “Besides, we’re just friends.”
I want to hug him but resist. “Call me tomorrow and we’ll figure out a day. See you, Wade.”
He walks me out and something as simple as turning around when I step out the door feels like I’ve punched my own face. Back when he and I were just friends, I could tell him I’ll see him later, get in the elevator, and go home without thinking about him for the rest of the day. Then he and I started hooking up, and there were times I couldn’t even face him whenever I left his house. Then once—once—I actually turned around and kissed him at the door, guilt-free and excited for the next time I would get to see him.
Now I don’t know what’s appropriate. Wade is probably thinking the same thing, too, except he doesn’t wait for me to decide and gives me a head nod when closing the door. This universe I’m stuck in gets worse and worse: all this history, and I can’t possibly have a future with this guy any more than I can have one with you.
Monday, December 19th, 2016
