History Is All You Left Me

by Adam Silvera

  It’s you all over again.

  “Griffin.”

  The chills running through are not like the kind that come from a cold winter evening like this one. They can only come from someone calling out the name of a person they love.

  “Your socks,” I say.

  Wade looks down at his socks. “My socks?”

  “They’re going to get dirty,” I say.

  I close the space between us, doing my damn best to fight away this hollowing urge to hug him. I reach out for the bags, brushing my cold fingers against his warm knuckles for a quick, unbearable second, and I carry the bags to the other end of the hallway, smelling the clinking beer bottles, and drop them down the garbage chute. I’m expecting to find Wade waiting for me by his door—if he hasn’t ignored me or told me to go away by now, I trust he won’t at all—and he’s walking toward me, stepping through the puddles of melted snow my boots have left.

  “Your socks,” I say again.

  I think he’s going to kiss me. I don’t have a single muscle left in me to push him away, but instead he wraps his arms around my neck and presses himself against me. I hug him back and almost even laugh when he flinches at my cold fingers on his spine.

  “Your socks are going to be so dirty,” I say.

  “I don’t care,” Wade says. “I don’t care about the socks and I don’t care why you’re here. In a good way.”

  There’s the Wade we know, Theo. He’s always getting the sentiment right and the words wrong, but there’s no getting mad at him because it’s almost as if saying the wrong thing is his first language, and he can’t quite shake it off. He stops hugging me but cups my elbows and I wish I wasn’t wearing this coat right now so I can feel his palms against my flesh. “I want you to come inside, but I have to ask my mom first. I know that shit makes me sound like we’re twelve again.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  He sighs. “I’m on lockdown like never before. Long story.”

  “Short version?”

  “I was skipping school.”

  “Why?”

  “Wait for the long story.” Wade walks back to his front door and is hesitant to go in, a lot like when we all went to Coney Island and he didn’t want to go on the roller coaster, which I feel even more awful about today since I got to hold your hand while I was freaking out and Wade was forced to sit with a stranger. “You’re going to be here when I get back, right?”

  There’s no saying no to that vulnerable, don’t-break-me look of his.

  “I’ll be here,” I promise.

  His you’re-piecing-me-back-together look says he believes me.

  You’ve never seen this side of him, Theo, which makes sense because people reveal different parts of themselves to different people. I don’t know why I could never see that before. How I was with you isn’t how I was with Wade, and how Jackson was with me isn’t how he was with you.

  Wade returns to the hallway with a fitted white T-shirt that hugs his shoulders, and he waves me in. The apartment is very warm and smells like vanilla, which I mistake for a candle before quickly remembering it’s probably the smell of his mother’s flavored vodka floating around.

  I walk into the living room where Ms. Juliette is half asleep and watching some game show. She says hi and asks me how I’m doing, but not in the same way everyone else has been, as if I’m a fragile piece of glass. The normalcy is almost a relief. Ms. Juliette asks Wade for water, which I hope isn’t code for more vodka, but Wade fills a glass from the kitchen faucet, and she downs it in almost one gulp.

  She announces she has a headache and is going to go to bed early and that I shouldn’t stay too late because Wade shouldn’t even have company in the first place. She’s pissed for reasons I’ll learn in a second, but she still kisses Wade on the forehead before retreating to her bedroom.

  “The room has changed a little bit,” Wade says, pushing open his bedroom door.

  Understatement. His room looks like it’s been robbed. There’s an outline on the floor where his rickety home studio used to be and I wouldn’t be surprised if the damn thing finally collapsed and he had to throw it away, except that doesn’t explain what happened to his flat-screen TV or his Xbox. His laptop isn’t in its usual spot on his desk, and his charger is nowhere in sight, either. The only things that remain are his bed; his chair and desk with a textbook currently open underneath the lamp; a bookcase well stocked with nonfiction books, which he rarely finishes because he gets over each subject due to “information overload”—the opposite of you; and his phone. It’s sitting in the corner of the room and propped up at angle, his trick so his jazz acoustics are amplified.

  “I’m really scared to ask where your mother hid your stuff. Please don’t say she sold it.”

  “It’s in storage somewhere.”

  “What the hell did you do?”

  Wade pulls a stick of mint gum out of his pocket and chews it while sitting down on his bed and inviting me to do the same. I go for the chair instead. It’s not very comfortable at first because I’m close to the small radiator, so I take off my coat, reminding myself I shouldn’t become too exposed. The more exposed I am, the easier it will be to remove every last piece of clothing and lose myself in him—in front of you. Wade is confused, no doubt, but he doesn’t pressure me because he knows me well enough that it might push me away.

  Wow. Someone knowing me is supposed to be a beautiful thing and not something that prevents him from being open, right? I wish you were here to actually give me an answer.

  “I was skipping school last week. Everything kind of fell apart after the library blowup and your choosing Jackson over me. Seeing you and Theo all over school didn’t help make me feel less alone. Not in some ghost-seeing crazy way, but the memories sucked. The next morning I was going to school and forgot my damn tie, so I ran back home because I wasn’t in the mood to stay there for detention. My mom had already left for work by the time I got there, and once the idea to stay home got in my head, it never bounced. I listened to music and played video games and napped. I did it again the next day. But on the third day, the school called my mom to see if I was okay, and shit hit the fan. She came home and I thought she was going to break her never-hit-me rule.”

  I nod. I understand. “Did she take all your stuff then?”

  “The next day when I got home from school, yeah. She only let me keep my phone because it would’ve been irresponsible of her not to. I can’t even use my laptop for homework, and she’s forcing me to stay late at the library to get work done.” Wade shrugs. “At least I have some games on my phone.”

  I can’t even give him shit for any of this. “You could’ve just said you missed us, by the way.”

  “Say what?”

  “When I asked you for the short version. You could’ve said you were skipping school because you were missing me and Theo.”

  “It took me a while to man up and say all that and you’re judging me? You suck, Griffin.”

  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.r />
  “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

  Wade and I are on Denise duty.

  Ellen and Russell are about to run out to get their Christmas shopping done. Your parents not already having those presents wrapped and locked away in the chest at the foot of their bed is a big deal, though Denise is too young to realize this—but thankfully smart enough to know what’s good about this Santa business because I’m sure Wade and I are bound to slip.

  Your parents are looking better. Russell is clean-shaven but still smells of cigarettes, and I really hope to find a patch on his arm sometime in the near future. Ellen looks tired, understandably, and the gray in her blond hair has gone untouched, but she doesn’t seem defeated.

  “It’s lovely to see you both, really,” Ellen says, and I believe her. “Thanks for taking Jackson in, Griffin. He’s family like you two, but hosting anyone during that time required fuel I didn’t have. We’re relaxing back to that point where we can trust our emotions a little better, I think.”

  “No worries,” I say. She has no idea the role he played in her only son’s death. The role I played in your death. I don’t deserve to be here or anywhere near her family again. I’m sharp, I’m poison, I’m suffocation, and I’m fire. But going forward, I can be more careful with those around me. “Did the box with Theo’s things arrive okay?”

  Ellen nods. “Thank you for sorting through that with Jackson. Your love for Theo means more than I can find words for.”

  “No words necessary.”

  Russell and Ellen kiss Denise and rush out, hoping to be home at a respectable time. It’ll be tough considering the time and store traffic this week, but Wade and I are here for as long as they need us.

  Wade stands in front of Denise, arms crossed like a bouncer’s, and looks down at her with a funny-serious glare. “All right, Dee, we are your minions. What do you want to play first?”

  Denise runs into her room and returns with an armful of well-loved board games. I think she’s going to make a move for Monopoly Junior, but then she opens the fifty-piece turtle puzzle we once did with her, and if she can be strong enough to piece back together this family of three turtles, then I can, too—then I will, too. Wade has always been more of an observer whenever it comes to puzzles, but I think he’s surprising even himself when he begins participating, starting at the top right, which—spoiler alert—is the cave the turtles are headed to.

  It’s kind of cool, like Wade is making sure there’s a home for the turtles Denise and I are creating.

  Normally you lead the stories behind each puzzle. I’m ready to do so in your place, but Denise cuts in and her imagination is just as wild as yours. When the puzzle is done, Denise tells—excuse me, commands—us to put the puzzle away while she runs to grab another game.

  “I never understand this part,” Wade says. “Breaking apart the puzzle.”

  “Theo and I kept some,” I say. Talking about you before, when Wade and I were doing our own thing, was legit awkward. Now that we’re grounding ourselves, it feels natural to bring you up, although a part of me hopes it isn’t making Wade feel a certain way.

  “It’s a waste of time if you don’t. It’s like sand castles that people just body slam their friends onto if you leave for a minute,” Wade says.

  “I don’t think so. You still take some experience away with each puzzle. Puzzles are sort of like life because you can mess up and rebuild later, and you’re likely smarter the next time around.” I pull apart the edges of ocean and seaweed, then the fins, then the shells, and lastly the heads. I trust the turtles will come out to play again, maybe another time or two before Denise takes a shot at your harder puzzles.

  Denise returns with her speakers and connects them to your mother’s laptop and blasts the music
from her playlist. “Dance party!” And then she’s dancing with her eyes closed, so she’s blind to how she’s all arms and shoulders. I’m thinking I’m going to have to force Wade to be silly, but he’s up before me and looking down at me with his serious-funny look. He extends a hand and helps me up, letting me go quickly. His head is bopping out of sync with the beat, but maybe he’s lost in his head, a completely different song getting him through this little girl’s dance party.

  “Dance, Griffin!” she cries.

  I do. I dance like I would with you, which just basically means a lot of hopping, and the three of us dance so hard we’re probably pissing off the family downstairs. Even if they have the balls to come up here with some noise complaint, they’re going to have to bitch to the door because we’re not stopping. I’m not interrupting the happiness of a girl who’s been missing her older brother, the happiness of a guy who’s been missing the first love of his life, the happiness of another guy who lost his best friend, the collective happiness of three people in desperate need of happiness.

  When the dance party finally winds down, Wade and I find your mother’s iced tea in the fridge and get glasses for all of us, though who knows when Denise will get to hers since she’s still doing handstands against the wall. We should’ve really encouraged her to go to bed by now, but if she has this much energy, I can’t imagine she’ll actually fall asleep. I hate to think about the thoughts she’s thinking when she’s stuck in bed alone.

  My phone buzzes.

  It’s a text from Jackson: I bit my tongue twice today. IDK why. If you bit your tongue a third time, would you bite it a fourth time?