“Happy birthday, Griffin. See you tomorrow.”
It’s weird seeing Theo’s dorm address on the package instead of his Manhattan address. I grab a pen and stab my way into the box. I pull out a pair of navy boots with black laces and a card.
The card reads:
Happy birthday, Griff. I saw these and thought of you immediately. You’ll look cooler than everyone else out here.
Your best friend in the apocalypse,
Theo.
P.S.: Wear these EVERYWHERE because the post office here sucks. EVERYWHERE, I SAY, EVERYWHERE.
It’s a great gift and I will wear the boots everywhere, but I don’t know how I can count on him to be my best friend during the apocalypse when he can’t even call me on my birthday. There’s still another two minutes.
I’m sure he’ll come through. Right?
Thursday, June 30th, 2016
Everything feels wrong. I’m hugging Theo for the first time since last August. I have both arms wrapped around him, with my chin pressed deep in his shoulder, and he’s hugging me like I’m his uncle, not best friend slash first love. Theo feels wrong.
He looks wrong too. He’s come home with a slight tan I didn’t really expect because of all the filtered photos he uploads. I don’t want him to look unhappy, but I don’t like how airy he seems, like life has finally made sense now that he left.
“It’s great seeing you guys,” Theo says, hugging Wade a lot more intimately than he does me. It’s not like Jackson is here and can see us; he’s vacationing with his father this week in Cancun. I’d be surprised if it’s actually for “father-son bonding” and not a guilt trip.
“You too,” I say, burying my hands in my pockets.
“It’s been a minute,” Wade says.
Theo sees the boots he got me for my birthday, the toes scratched from how often I wear them. “The boots!”
“I’m wearing them everywhere, as requested,” I say.
“Good going on messing up his birthday,” Wade says.
“Honest mistake,” Theo says. “It’s weird thinking of Griffin being born on an odd-numbered day. At least I got the shoe size right!”
Why can’t Theo’s coming home ever be simple? Even though Jackson isn’t here with him this time, I still feel his presence all afternoon. Theo avoids saying his name so he doesn’t set me off. Don’t get me wrong, I prefer it this way, but whenever Theo’s about to talk about him, he turns to me and changes the subject, like I should feel guilty. He’s also checking his phone constantly, answering Jackson’s texts immediately. I can’t wait until we’re underground on our way to Brooklyn for randomness so his California me-knockoff can’t reach him.
On our way to the train station, Wade brings up colleges. “I don’t think I could be away from home that long. I’m probably going to stick around here in the city next fall.”
“It’s not the worst thing,” Theo says.
It’s not the worst thing because he’s found himself paradise, whereas the rest of us are stuck here missing him, alone. “I’m definitely applying to SMC,” I say.
Theo nods. “If that’s what you want you totally should.” Now he sounds like a fucking guidance counselor.
“Of course it’s what I want,” I say. I almost remind him it’s what we both want, but I promised Wade I wouldn’t make today about Theo and me. I have no idea what I want to study in college, but I know Theo and I only stand a chance at repairing our relationship if we’re closer.
On the 4 train to Union Square, Theo and Wade talk about Netflix shows. I feel invisible and voiceless. I’m sitting opposite of Theo and Wade, and they’re both laughing away like it’s totally normal how Theo and I don’t fit anymore. It reminds me of the early years of our friendship, when Theo and Wade were the best of friends and I was the odd man out, this add-on they were auditioning for their squad. I’m shrinking back into an eleven-year-old desperate to prove himself, desperate to show Theo I could be really helpful when he’s putting together puzzles, desperate to be caught up on all the latest cinematic scores so Wade would think I was cool.
Screw this.
We get off at Union Square, and while we’re waiting for the L train, I stand between the two of them, getting in Theo’s face.
“We need to talk.”
“Griff . . .”
I turn to Wade. “I need ten minutes with him. Alone.” Wade tries protesting, but I grab Theo’s hand and drag him down the platform, stopping underneath the staircase. “Okay, we need to cut the shit here for ten minutes. Can you do that? Can you give me complete honesty for ten minutes, and then we can go back to playing dumb?”