History Is All You Left Me

by Adam Silvera

Saturday, June 21st, 2014

  Theo’s summer cold—well, let’s keep it real and call it my summer cold since it’s pretty clear how he got sick—is gone, just in time for Denise’s sixth birthday party in Central Park. It’s a Disney princess theme. (What else?) Denise and most of her friends are dressed as Elsa, but calling it a Frozen party wouldn’t be fair to the two Belles and the Mulan in attendance.

  “We should’ve dressed up, too,” I say.

  “You can’t pull off a dress as well as Denise,” Theo says.

  “I should’ve forgotten to show up,” Wade says, back in his glasses as of this weekend, since his contacts finally became unbearable. He waves at us. “Remember me? Wade Church? The one who agreed to come to this kid’s party even though he had something better to do.”

  Theo turns to me. “Hey, do you hear something? Like a ghost pretending he has better things to do?”

  I feel a little guilty laughing, but not enough that I don’t. Besides, it’s no secret there’s tons of bullying in the Theo and Wade friendship. Everyone is used to this by now, me most of all. Sometimes I’m nervous he’s going to move on to new friends; I’m not that desperate for an even number in our squad.

  “Whatever. Just don’t have sex out here or I’m calling the cops.”

  That’s another thing: he references our sex life whenever possible.

  “There aren’t enough middle fingers in the world, Wade,” Theo says. “But for starters . . .” He flips Wade off twice, nods toward me to do the same, which I do. “Here are four.”

  Wade forces a laugh. “Tag-teaming. Fun.”

  There’s some truth to that. Now that school is out of the way, Theo and I are planning for the summer. We really, really don’t want Wade to feel like a third wheel, and it seems like we’re failing already. Still, before our summer begins, Theo and I have decided to come out to our parents. And Wade can’t roll with us for that. This belongs to the two of us alone.

  My mom and dad are sitting with Theo’s at the picnic table, eating lunch with some of the other parents. They’re laughing and bantering while a horde of Elsas chase Mulan around a tree. I’m a little nervous. More than a little. They’re completely oblivious to the missile we’re about to fire their way.

  “Now seems like a good time,” I say.

  “Yeah, why not?” Theo turns to Wade. “Okay, kiddo. We’re off to go come out to our parents. Have you received any super legit psychic visions on how this will play out?”

  Wade shakes his head. “I predict everything will remain perfect in the perfection that is your life, Theo.”

  “Perfect,” Theo says. He throws up a peace sign. “Give us ten minutes. Fifteen if they want to take pictures.”

  In my head I correct it to sixteen minutes but keep that to myself.

  “All right.” Wade sits on the ground and pulls out his phone. “Hopefully I can Instagram without those Elsas asking me if I want to build a snowman.”

  Steeling ourselves, we walk over to the picnic table. We politely interrupt, asking our moms and dads if we can bother them for a second. They follow us to the tree with the birthday balloon tied around it, and we squeeze together in the shade.

  “What’s up, guys?” Dad asks.

  “We want to update you all on something,” Theo says. The four of them stare at us, but I stop feeling outnumbered when Theo grabs my hand. “We’re dating, and we’ve decided if you’re uncool with it, we’re going to live here in the trees.” The words tumble out of his mouth in such a rush that it sounds like one long word instead of eighteen separate words.

  “No, we said we’d live on the pier,” I add.

  Theo glances at me. “I’m trying to throw them off. I don’t want them finding us if they’re not cool with it.” He turns his attention back to our parents. “We cool?”

  I don’t know how everyone else is feeling, but I don’t feel cool. I scratch at my palm with my free hand. I felt brave walking over here, and braver when Theo grabbed my hand, but my stomach is turning because we’ve reached the point of no return. I’m ready to reach for my earlobe when everyone breaks into smiles.

  Russell laughs. “That’s it? I thought you were trying to leave the party to hang out elsewhere. Poor Wade looks miserable. The answer would’ve been no, but I’m more than fine with you two dating.”

  Ellen hooks her arm inside Russell’s, patting his shoulder. “Theo, I thought you finally hacked your way into some network you have no business touching and forced Griffin to be your accomplice.”

  “A likely scenario,” Theo says. “Fair.”

  My mom does this weird shoulder bounce I’ve never seen her do before, and it might be the happiness of a mom seeing her son dating, but I’m not a fan. “I’m coming in for a hug.” She hugs both Theo and I at once. “I didn’t think this day would come for years. I’m so excited.”

  Once my mom backs away to hug Theo’s parents, my dad hugs Theo.

  “Good choice, Theo,” Dad says. Then he comes to me and, yup, another hug. “No more sleepovers, but I’m happy for you both.”

  The hugging and awkward compliments about how cute we are finally come to an end. I feel lightheaded. Theo and I return to Wade, who’s already laughing.

  “The hugging quota for sons coming out is maxed out,” Wade says.

  “Seriously,” I say.

  Wade stares at his phone. “I guess this is actually happening,” he says. “You came out to each other, made out, banged out, and now came out to your parents. You’re as out as it gets.”

  “Thanks for the recap,” Theo says.

  “I guess I accept this. Get together, guys. Picture time.” Wade stands and aims the phone at us.

  Theo and I wrap our arms around each other’s waists. “Smile or no smile?”

  “Smile this time,” I say.

  All the important people in our lives know about us. Best friend, parents. Theo and I already talked about what comes next. We’re pretty sure we’ll go public online sometime this summer, but we’re not in as big a rush to do so—not anymore. My biggest priority right now is framing the last photo Theo and I took as best friends beside the first photo we’ve taken as boyfriends.

  TODAY

  Tuesday, November 21st, 2016

  You died on an odd day, and we’re burying you on one, too.

  It’s drizzling, but you’re tucked away inside your closed casket. The line to place flowers on you is moving, footprints sinking into the muddy grass of the cemetery where we’re going to be forced to leave you. I remembered to bring the white calla lilies this time.

  We gather in a circle as you’re lowered into the ground.

  I think about alternate universes as we lay you to rest in this one. There are billions, trillions, existing all at once: one where we never broke up and you stayed in New York, one out of reach from oceans that have it in for you, one where we both moved to California for school, one where you quit school and left animation and Jackson behind because you missed me so much, one where we met halfway somewhere because you wanted me not only to be your future but to help you find it, one where we’re the sole survivors of the zombie-pirate apocalypse . . . countless more where things are right, maybe with some touches of wrong. But in them all, you and I are more than history. I have to believe these universes exist; it’s the only way to manage the suffering here. Alternate versions of me are perfectly happy with alternate versions of you, because you’re alive. Alternate Theos all honor the promise you made never to die (not even at the hands of a zombie pirate).

  But you’re being lowered into a hole. Your parents and Denise are freaking out. Jackson is crying, and his shoulders shift left to right, like he’s looking for someone—you—to cry on, until reality kicks his ass, too. Wade is standing with my parents, embraced by my mom. And I’m somehow on my knees. I was standing a minute ago, rocking back and forth, cryi
ng for my favorite person to bust out of the casket and hug me. I look up, and Jackson’s eyes find mine. For a second, it almost feels like we’re about to race into the hole to join you. Being buried alive has got to be better than whatever comes next.

  This is the moment of the end. This is where we give up hope on reversing time, where we abandon finding a cure to death, where we live in this Theo-less universe, where we say goodbye.

  But I can’t. It is goodbye for most, but not for me. Never me.

  HISTORY

  Thursday, July 17th, 2014

  Our Squad Day was long overdue. We chilled at the High Line, the coolest park in the city. Central Park is fine and all, but it can’t really compete against an aerial urban railroad. There was tons of foot traffic along the gravel walkway, but the three of us managed to find this great spot on the grass, overlooking the Hudson River. We put together a puzzle of a chained dragon—something we would have done before Theo and me. We decide to walk back uptown, catching the sun falling lower and lower as we pass buildings, and as we get closer to home, I remember my mission. I wanted to wait until we were alone, but why shouldn’t Wade hear this, too?

  “Still coming with me to buy condoms?” I ask Theo. It’s my first time buying them, and if Theo knows what’s good for him, he’ll go with me.

  “You would need to find me a one-way ticket to an alternate universe where you walk around naked twenty-four/seven for me to miss this,” Theo says.

  Wade struggles to find his voice and spits out, “Just say yes next time.” He shakes his head and starts walking off. “You guys have fun with that.”

  Theo runs ahead and blocks him. “No, no. You don’t want to feel like a third wheel, right? Come on, be a bro that helps his other bros buy condoms.”

  I help Theo drag Wade into the Duane Reade by my building. Wade is shaking his head, but we’re all laughing like idiots as we make our way to the family-planning aisle—straight to the wall of condoms. My family plan: don’t start a family the next time we have sex. But condoms are only 98 percent effective, so who knows?

  “You got to love the options,” Theo says, beaming at our possibilities and Wade’s discomfort. “I can’t help but think of horses and gladiator sandals with Trojan. Magnum sounds kick-ass, like it’s going to come with a bazooka. Casanova is trying too hard to be suave, I think. Suave comes before sex, not during it.” Theo picks up a small black box. “What about this one? They’re spelling skin with a y.” He picks up a blue box. “Or we can go classic. Not sure why anyone would want classic when you can have Trojan’s Fire and Ice condoms.”

  I raise my hand. “I’ll go with boring classic if it means my dick won’t simultaneously burn and freeze.”

  “Fair.”

  “How about Durex?” Wade suggests, gamely trying to get into the spirit of things. He’s never had sex before, but both Theo and I know he came close a couple of times during our freshman year. “Does that make you think about ponies or rocket launchers?”

  “It’s horses and bazookas, but no.” Theo takes the Durex condoms from Wade and pats his back. “Thanks, man.”

  We enter the line. I’m not laughing anymore. I really wish they had self-checkout here because buying condoms may be the most awkward legal transaction ever. It’s weird to be looked at as someone sexually, I don’t know why. It even felt a little weird for Theo to see me that way, and he’s not some random cashier. It’s rare I see the same cashiers here, so I really shouldn’t care; I might as well be buying these condoms on the other side of the world in a country I never plan on visiting again. But it still feels like this purchase comes with a spotlight. I grab some impulse-buy candy in the hopes of dimming the glare.

  “Just be cool,” Theo says. “You’re not buying drugs.”

  He’s right. I’m going to be cool. I’m not buying drugs. I’m not even buying alcohol, where I have to be twenty-one. Buying condoms is totally normal. It’s something enough guys are doing because there are options, which means it’s a thriving business, which means there are multiple companies trying to convince us theirs is the best, which means we have everyone—including myself, in this moment, sort of—to thank for not only helping to keep the world a safe place, but for making sure it doesn’t become too overpopulated.

  “Griffin. Hey.”

  No way.

  I freeze at the sound of my dad’s voice. He’s right behind us. I honestly think I’d rather be caught masturbating.

  Wade laughs a little to himself, probably because this is going to be painfully humiliating. He slow-claps. “Bet you’re regretting bringing me here.”

  There’s no being cool about this. The only thing that could make this worse is if I turn and see that my dad is also buying condoms. I know my parents still have sex, because I’m not an idiot, I know they’re not just watching Netflix or going to sleep early when they wish me good night around 8 p.m. I turn and he’s holding shaving razors and boxes of cereal. The cereal reminds me of being a kid and eating breakfast in front of the TV during Saturday-morning cartoons. I’ll never be that innocent again.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  He nods at Theo and Wade. “How was the High Line, guys?” He spots the condoms in my hands, which are poorly hidden behind the gummy worms. “Oh.” He’s trying to say something. His arms are sort of all over the place, like a robot being turned on for the first time.

  I desperately want a superpower right now. Maybe mind control so I could wipe my dad’s memory clean and then force him to turn around and get the hell out of here. I’d settle for invisibility, though.

  “Protection is good,” Dad says. “You can’t get pregnant, but there are other dangers.”

  At this point I’d even take the power to set myself aflame, anything.

  I put down the condoms in a bowl for dollar chocolates. “Nope, not doing this,” I mumble. “Let’s forget this ever happened, Dad. Come on, guys.” We try leaving the aisle, but my dad cuts ahead of us.

  “Wait. We should be able to talk about this. This doesn’t have to be embarrassing,” Dad says.

  “This doesn’t have to happen in a Duane Reade line either . . .”

  Knowing we have no choice but to follow him, the four of us end up hiding out in the aisle with all the shower products. Theo and I are standing side by side. We turn to Wade, who’s grinning and won’t take a hint and leave. Of course not. He finally has the upper hand.

  “Your mom and I were thinking about sitting down with you soon to talk about this stuff—to talk about sex. Let’s call it what it is. Sex. We figured you two might be thinking about this at some point . . .” Dad stops himself. “Wait. Have you both already . . . ?”

  My face is on fire; maybe my superpower wish to burst into flames is coming true. “We have,” I say.

  Dad sucks in his upper lip, which he normally does whenever he’s nervous he might say the wrong thing if he speaks too quickly. He looks directly at me. “Was that your first time?”

  “Yup.”

  “Good choice,” Dad says, turning red. “That came out wrong. Sorry, Theo. I’m trying to say sex means more when it’s with someone you care about.”

  I know my dad had sex a couple of times before meeting my mom—I forget why it came up a couple of years ago, but it did—and it’s good to hear he feels this way. It just sucks that I have to be reminded of it right now, when all I wanted to do was buy condoms with my boyfriend and our best friend.

  This silence is painful and awkward. Endless, too.

  Theo points at a bottle behind my dad. “Hey, a shampoo that doubles as a conditioner.”

  “Groundbreaking product, Theo!” Wade laughs. I can’t blame him for how much he’s loving this.

  “I know you don’t need some birds-and-bees talk,” Dad continues. “Birds and birds? Maybe it’s bees and bees? I’m not sure if the bird or the bee is the boy in that idiom.” He ge
ts lost trying to figure that out for a second before returning to earth. “I don’t know all the mechanics of same-sex sex, but I’ve been researching different forums lately, and I’m around to talk if you have any questions. Both of you.”

  Researching? Jesus. “Okay,” I say, my eyes now glued to the scuffed linoleum floor. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Thanks, Gregor,” Theo says.

  “Anytime,” Dad says.

  Never again, please.

  “I’m going to do you both a solid right now,” Dad says.

  Maybe he’s going to do some Jedi mind trick to make everyone here forget this interaction ever happened. He gets back in line, grabs the condoms out of the bowl of chocolates, holds them up for us to see, approaches the cashier, and puts the condoms, cereal, and razors on the counter. I look around the store because I can’t bear to watch. I spot rat poisoning and the wheels of my superhero origin story begin spinning; I’ll drink some and will suddenly have the ability to become a tiny rat at will—a rat that doesn’t need condoms, a rat that can avoid the awkwardness of his father buying condoms for him.

  Theo and I bolt for the exit. Wade strolls after us, beaming.

  Outside, Dad offers me the plastic bag with our condoms, then switches to Theo before I can take it from him, then switches back to me, then back to Theo. I snatch the bag from him when it comes back my way.

  “You coming home soon?” Dad asks.

  I nod, staring at the ground again. “Probably not going to make eye contact with you for at least a decade.”

  “Sounds fair. I’ll see you later. Good night, Theo.”

  “Good night, Gregor.”

  He walks off.

  Wade slow-claps again. “Good going, guys. Do you think your dad is trying to figure out who’s the top and who’s the bottom yet?”

  “Shut up,” Theo says.

  I grab Theo’s arm, and the three of us walk in the complete opposite direction of my father. “I know it’s really early, but do you think I can move in with you? I’m never going back home. Unless your parents are going to hit you with a ‘bees and bees’ conversation sometime soon, too.”