History Is All You Left Me

A zombie scratches at Wade, who’s too busy laughing at me to notice. He only collapses when he finally registers what’s going on.

I let the zombies get me too. I’m not fighting this battle without Wade.

My heart rate settles down as Wade and I exit from where we started, pass all the blood-streaked corridors and through the destroyed fences. We’re both sweaty, catching our breath. It triggers memories of having sex with Wade. I wonder if it does the same thing for him. We’ve been really good about not doing that anymore.

We go to our shared locker, grab our phones and wallets, and go to their burger joint and buy overpriced bottles of water. Wade’s phone vibrates. It’s Theo trying to FaceTime him. Wade screens the call.

“You can answer it,” I say. It’s not like Theo and I aren’t talking.

“I’m having fun with you,” Wade says. “I can hit him up later.”

I’m a little relieved, honestly. And I’m having fun with Wade, too.

Saturday, September 24th, 2016

Wade and I are crouching on the sidewalk, checking out the discounted books on the blanket by the curb. There’s absolutely zero chance of me focusing on reading anything after Theo’s call an hour ago: Jackson wants us to stop talking, for good. Maybe Theo broke our taboo rule—like I did—and finally told Jackson about our kiss and promises. All I know is Theo told Jackson he’s not kicking me out of his life. That didn’t go over well with anyone.

“Theo is trying to do the right thing,” I tell Wade, who’s been really upset since the call.

Wade drops a book with a Greyhound bus on the cover. “You’re smarter than this, Griffin. There’s going to come a time when keeping you happy is no longer the right thing. He’s going to choose Jackson.”

I stand. Crowds are continuing into Times Square, so I turn the other way and walk off. Wade chases me down, but he’s not apologizing for saying the wrong thing like he normally does.

He stops me, gripping my shoulders and staring into my eyes. It’s intense, and whenever I try looking away, Wade shifts himself back into focus. “Stop getting pissed because I’m the only one keeping it real with you. You need to move on. It doesn’t have to be me or anyone, but you’re going to drive yourself insane waiting around for him. I hate watching this.”

I want to break out of his grip and push him away, but I know he’s the only one here for me.

“Why do you care so much?”

“You’re such an idiot. I’ve always cared.” Wade reaches into my jacket pocket and pulls out the Cedric Diggory key chain he got me for my birthday last year, dangling the keys in front of my face. “You were never paying attention.” He forces the keys into my hand, closing his own around mine. “I was never going to make a move on you because of Theo, but I still wanted you happy. The key chain of your favorite Harry Potter character. That collage of you and Theo.” His narrowed eyes are watering. “I wanted to make one of you and me, but I respected you guys as friends.”

Focusing on Theo these past few years has prevented me from truly appreciating Wade’s role in my life. He’s not just some third wheel who claims to be psychic. He doesn’t just say the wrong thing at the wrong times. He’s a capital p Person who speaks the truth and looks out for everyone’s future, sometimes before his own.

Wade lets go of me and my heart continues speeding. “I’m done with Theo. It’s almost been a year and that asshole still has you waiting for a phone call. It’s not right.”

“I can’t get rid of him,” I say. “He wants me in his life, and I can’t do that to him.” I don’t break eye contact with him. “I don’t want you to go either. I want to be more for you, but it’s going to take time. Can you give me that?”

“Can you actually try?”

“I will.”

I have to be careful with him. Wade is a Person and I don’t want to play with his head the way Theo has played with mine. Believing in hope hasn’t gotten me far, and I don’t want it to hold Wade back either.

Sunday, November 13th, 2016

Wade and I are in bed, legs tangled in one another’s, and we’re eating tortilla chips. The heater is blasting and movie scores are playing in the background of our conversation about attractive Avengers.

“I’m not a huge fan of any of the Bruce Banners,” I say, scooping a chip into the bowl of salsa. I’m extra careful not to drip because Wade will freak and try to clean the blanket immediately. “Thor is pretty damn awesome to look at, but I’m feeling pretty loyal to the Captain.”

“Can I be Team Captain America and Team Black Widow?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Can I be Team Captain America and Team Black Widow and Team Tony Stark?”

“You need a fourth,” I say.

“Right. Team Captain America, Team Black Widow, Team Tony Stark, and Team Griffin.”