Once Wade is laid out, I get up from the couch. I walk to your room and wish there was a point in knocking. I open the door and everything is still in place, with the addition of the box Jackson and I put together from your dorm. You’re the only thing missing. I don’t have the strength to go in alone, but I’m happy to see your stuff still here and not suddenly abandoned on the sidewalk as the latest healing ritual emailed to your parents.
I turn around, and Wade’s eyes are open now, watching me. I don’t know why, but it stops me in my tracks. He’s tired, but he also looks, I don’t know, disappointed or annoyed. I mouth “What?” and he shakes his head gently. I don’t believe it’s nothing, but I’m not going to push this, especially not with Denise here.
I join them on the couch and kick my feet up on the coffee table. I try and concentrate on the movie, but it’s not happening. I still can’t believe you weren’t actually immortal. I take a page out of Denise’s book and close my eyes.
Sunday, December 25th, 2016
This Christmas is even more off than last year’s. I know I said the same thing about Thanksgiving, but Christmas hurts more, as will New Year’s Eve, as will your birthday, as will my birthday, as will every day you’re not alive. If I’m really done with lying, I can’t lie about that.
At least the day is moving by pretty quickly. We opened presents at home, and now we’re doing the family gathering at my aunt’s. Dad promised me we won’t be staying long, especially not after the showdown from Thanksgiving. I’m hiding out in my aunt’s room to avoid my asshole cousin, but the sound of everyone’s laughter carries over from the living room. I’m not even the slightest bit tempted to explore what’s so funny, but it does remind me of how nice it was to leave my room this morning and find my mom and dad sitting on the floor beside our low-maintenance tree like it was their first Christmas together.
It’s crazy how they’re not tired of each other, or how it looks like they haven’t even lost an inch of love for each other. Second-best part of the morning is when I joined them, and my mom modeled her pajamas for both of us from the living room to the kitchen and back, as if on a runway.
Mom brings my grandmother into the room, and I help out, holding her underneath her arm as we guide her to the rocking chair opposite the TV. Mom tells me that it was getting too loud out there for her, so she hopes I don’t mind Grandma intruding on my “quiet time.”
I put on the news, which she’s obsessed with but can never actually absorb. I missed her ninetieth birthday last week in my brutal haze, but if I wanted to lie and tell her I spoke with her, she wouldn’t actually know any better.
“Is Theo coming? I want to watch his movie with the flowers.”
You’re still alive for Grandma. You’re still around making more films. You’re still around to whip out your camera phone and play one of your videos for her. You’re still around to hold my hand and kiss me good morning. I know you’re not alive, but I know I don’t treat you like you’re dead. I know you’re watching, but I know there’s a chance you’re not. I know you’re not around to live, and I know you’re always going to live through me.
I can’t bring myself to upset her and tell her it’s all over, because, well, I don’t know, if I deny her the fantasy of your immortality, I don’t know if it will ruin my mystery of where you are.
“Theo can’t make it,” I say. It’s a truth hidden in the folds of a lie. “I have his video, though.” I go through the album of videos on my phone and sit down beside my grandmother, feeling very vulnerable as I relive your creations with a woman who watches with the joy of someone witnessing magic for the first time.
Wherever you are, Theo, I hope you’re having a Merry Christmas. I’ll try some damn eggnog for you.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a present for you,” I say, scratching my gloved palm and pulling at my earlobe the entire time I go up the steps outside the subway.
“I don’t have one for you, either,” Wade says. “We’re all good.” He walks over to my left, staying there. I shift over to reclaim my side, but he keeps messing with me. “I’m going to walk on your left for a minute.”
“Nope. I’m going to walk on the left forever,” I say.
“Entertain me.”
“There’s nothing funny about this.”
“Exactly. This is serious, and you never treat it that way. I want to see what you’re like on my right.”
He’s walked on my right side before, but only when you were alive and I was on your left, because you were obviously the more important one, so it didn’t bother me as much in the grand scheme of things. Wade has never been on my right one-on-one, and allowing this feels a lot like a big deal, sort of like my first date with you. I was on edge despite knowing you for what feels like forever and trusting you with everything else I had to offer that the everyday person never experienced.
“It’s not going to last long, but give it your best shot,” I say.