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, crying 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?”