“Did you worry Theo would ever break up with you and get back together with me?”
“Competing against his first love was so impossible sometimes,” Jackson says. “I know Theo would never cheat on me, but if he were going to do it, I know it would’ve been with you.”
You never told him what happened when you were here in June without him, did you? Sorry, that’s taboo. Even now.
Jackson bounces a little to warm up. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think I would’ve had it in me to be his friend if we’d broken up. I would’ve wanted him in my life, but I wouldn’t have been able to stand it. I would’ve said goodbye. I don’t know how you survived this.”
I’m not sure I actually did survive it. Look at me now, Theo: I’m about to run away from home and get on a plane, two things that had never crossed my mind to do. Maybe I will need therapy when I get back. I’m shattered and empty. I’m loyal to the end, but that’s the heart of my problem and may soon be Jackson’s too: when exactly is the end?
Sunday, December 11th, 2016
Jackson is folding his clothes, packing for the flight tomorrow. “Are you sure you want to go? There’s no turning around once the plane takes off.”
He’s whispering, but I almost panic that my parents will overhear us. Then I remember they’re both napping—or having sex, whatever—in their bedroom. “I’m definitely going. You’re more scared of them than I am.”
Jackson puts his shirts in his bag. “I don’t want to piss them off. I like them.”
“If you snitch on me, I’ll end you,” I say.
“Not snitching. I really want you out there with me. It’s the only reason I’m not completely freaking out right now.”
I’m not freaking out, either, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because I’m committed. I’ll have to lie in the worst way possible and scare the shit out of my parents to get out there, but I’ll call them the second Jackson and I land, so they know I’m safe. I’ll fly home on Wednesday and I’ll be punished forever, but it’s worth it. I have to see how you lived.
The doorbell rings.
“Let me get that.” I rush out of bed and open the door to find Wade standing there with an aluminum tray; I can smell cupcakes. He baked them for my birthday this year. I can see one of the ties you bought him peeking out from underneath his coat.
“Sorry to stop by unannounced,” Wade says. “You weren’t answering my texts and I wanted to see how you were doing, since Thursday . . .”
His voice trails off.
Jackson comes out of my room with an empty glass on his way to the kitchen. He waves. “Wade, hey. How’s it going?”
Wade’s eyes narrow. He turns away from Jackson and back to me. “What the hell is going on?” He’s quiet, but the question sinks in as if he shouted it. “You won’t talk to me but you’re hanging out with the guy that made your life hell?”
My lips feel dry. “Things have changed,” I say. I want to close the door on him.
Wade closes his eyes, fighting back tears, and shakes his head. “Clearly. You’re no longer suffering alone, unlike me. Real nice, Griffin. You’re so fucking selfish.”
I should tell Wade about the trip. But he might react the same way as my parents. I can’t risk this for him.
I am selfish.
Wade drops the tray at my feet. “Hope you both enjoy.” He storms away and slams the door behind him, the noise echoing through the hallway.
I can’t chase after him, Theo. I have to get ready. I have a flight to catch.
Monday, December 12th, 2016
Can you believe it, Theo? I’m in an airplane, ready to take off.
I’m going to California with Jackson, and I’m fighting back a freak-out. I have to keep it together before I get kicked off. Before I prove my parents right that I’m probably not in the best state to be doing this.
I’m not a fan of what I had to do. Jackson hates it too, but it didn’t stop him from pulling the cab over a couple of blocks away after he said goodbye to me and my family, so I could join him. I only have a small backpack with me. My parents think it’s full of books and notebooks for a fake trip to the coffee shop to work on make-up assignments. It’s actually stuffed with shirts, underwear, a phone charger, and a toothbrush. I have the other essentials in my wallet—cash, starter debit card, ID, ticket.
I hope you’ll also forgive me for lying. I’m doing it for you.
We’re in row fourteen and I’m seat number one. Good row number, okay seat number. But this panic attack has been crawling my way since we arrived at the airport. I didn’t count on all the lines and the brief flight delay. I try buckling my seatbelt, but it’s different than car seatbelts, and Jackson assists me without asking, which startles me for a second because he’s so close to my dick. But within seconds he’s done and I’m fastened in; I can’t help but feel as if he’s trapped me here, like a straitjacket.
“How are you doing?” Jackson asks.