“Suck it, Google,” I say. “Did you ever hear Theo say that?”
“Yup. It was like a cowboy match with him to see if he could answer something before I could draw my phone and look it up. Theo would’ve kicked ass at Jeopardy.”
I turn away from the movie. Jackson gets what it was like to be with you so much, I could hug him. “I bought him the Jeopardy video game, which was a huge mistake. I felt like the hugest idiot whenever we played.”
“You’re not an idiot.”
I shake that off. “Did you ever feel smart around him?”
“No, and I’m older. I probably felt worse than you did.”
That age stuff is stupid and almost cost you and me our friendship, but I get where he’s coming from. “Theo was never trying to be superior about it, which I loved. He was just so excited to be learning everything to the point that it sometimes felt like he didn’t have enough room in his head to remember the little things . . . and a couple of bigger things. It’s weird how all the information Theo spent downloading into his stupid beautiful brain is now gone.”
I nod, the happiness between us gone, as well. I turn back to the movie, but I’m not watching.
“He left all his knowledge with us,” Jackson says. “Some of it. I can’t really remember all of it. But the stuff I do know will probably never come up in real life, fun facts basically. Like how the Hoover Dam was built to last two thousand years. And how in the Middle Ages, cats were shoved into sacks and thrown into bonfires and hurled off church towers because they were associated with witchcraft. He also got me hooked on tons of older songs, like ‘All Out of Love’ and ‘(They Long to Be) Close to You.’” Jackson goes through his phone and plays “Come Sail Away,” cranking it up. “This is one of my favorites.”
“Mine too.”
Jackson inches toward me, very close. “Okay, please don’t punch me, but I want to show you something Theo taught me.”
“Why would I punch you?”
“Because I’m about to be really close to your face, and you might think this is inappropriate, in which case, punch me. Okay?”
Jackson gets on his knees and tells me to do the same. He puts his hands on my waist and leans in, but not toward my lips. “This is a butterfly kiss.” I tense up as he brushes his eyelashes against mine. “This is a caveman kiss.” He bumps his forehead against mine, gently. I’m shaking a little. “This is an Eskimo kiss.” He rubs his nose against mine with closed eyes, expecting me to do the same, but I’m scared of what I will do if I move. “And this is a zombie kiss.” Jackson nibbles on my cheek, doing a very stupid growl. He stares into my eyes afterward and smiles. He’s pretty happy he shared something so intimate with me.
He doesn’t know that I know all of this.
You taught him something personal to me. You taught him a routine I had with my parents as a kid. You taught him something I never thought I would share with anyone else until you came along. You taught him a kiss I personally created for us when I grew up needing a fourth.
I get it.
People are complicated puzzles, always trying to piece together a complete picture, but sometimes we get it wrong and sometimes we’re left unfinished. Sometimes that’s for the best. Some pieces can’t be forced into a puzzle, or at least they shouldn’t be, because they won’t make sense.
Like Jackson and me on this odd day, or any day.
I grab Jackson by the back of his neck and kiss him—not a butterfly kiss, not a caveman kiss, not an Eskimo kiss, not a zombie kiss—a straight-up kiss where my tongue finds its way into his mouth and his massages mine back. Jackson wrenches away from my lips, looks me in the eyes with confusion, but I’m not sure I find regret there. He takes a deep breath and flies back toward me. Jackson kisses me with the same aggression I surprised him with.
His fingers rake my lower back as he pulls me so close to him our chests are pressed together, hearts hammering against one another. I push him backward, and he probably thinks I’m done, that I’ve come to my senses or something, but I take off my shirt and send it sailing across the room. I’m used to seeing a smile when reaching this stage in bed, a smile because someone is excited to be doing this with me, but Jackson must be struggling with this, except not enough that he can stop himself from pulling off his own shirt and dropping it on the bed.
“Where are your condoms?”
Jackson manages to reach into his bedside drawer.
“Should I turn off the lights?”
“Nope.”
I want you to watch me have sex with your boyfriend.
This is someone who’s grieving over you, another human with his own human feelings who shouldn’t be used as a weapon against you. But I’m a human too, with my own human feelings. You used our intimate history to create a future with someone else, and that’s a thousand times worse.
You used our love against me. Now I’m using your love against you.
When we’re done, sweating despite his shitty air conditioner, I stare up at the ceiling. Jackson does the same.
I’m naked with Jackson in Jackson’s bed in Jackson’s bedroom in Jackson’s home in Jackson’s state in Jackson’s time zone.