History Is All You Left Me(39)

“The best for last, of course,” Theo says. “Drumroll, please!”

We all sit still for a few seconds before banging on the floor with our fists. There’s weight to the small box. I tear open the wrapping, and it’s a little treasure chest. “Please tell me there are mini zombie pirates inside,” I say. Theo shrugs. I unlock the chest and inside there are four winged figurines with a little note.

“‘A compulsion of gryphons?’” I read with a smile.

“Thoughtfully random, right?” Theo is crazy excited. “Gryphons because of your name, obviously. Those little bastards are hard to find, by the way, but I found one with Wade in a thrift shop and ordered the other three online.”

I examine them, stopping when I see a little plate on one’s back. “What’s this?”

“Collective nouns just never make sense. A murder of crows, a smack of jellyfish, a business of parrots. Nonsense. Straight-up nonsense. I made up a compulsion of gryphons for you. Compulsion works because you have those little quirks and because I made magnetic clips out of the gryphons so they’re bound together.” Theo hands me another plate from his pocket and demonstrates by placing it inside my shirt and tossing a gryphon at it so it’s magnetized there. “Do I win Christmas? The point of Christmas is winning it, right?”

“You both win Christmas,” I say.

“Good answer,” Wade says.

“So-so answer,” Theo says.

I put all the plates inside my shirt, magnetizing all the gryphons. I don’t tell them I was lying. They didn’t win Christmas. I did. How could I not? There’s a compulsion of gryphons soaring around my heart.

Wednesday, December 31st, 2014

If I’d sat down with a psychic last January and she hit me with some prediction on how I’d begin dating Theo in June, I would’ve spent my year staging an elaborate mission to steal back my ten dollars. Even if psychics are real, I don’t think I would’ve survived the anticipation. Sometimes it’s okay to be surprised. It’s going to sound stupid, and I wouldn’t ever say this out loud, but the way Theo and I came out to each other was sort of like getting caught in a thunderstorm. Storms can suck when they’re knocking out power and ripping apart houses, no doubt. But other times the thunder is a soundtrack to something unpredictable, something that gets our hearts racing and wakes us up. If someone had warned me about the weather, I might have freaked out and stayed inside.

But I didn’t.

It’s New Year’s Eve, a few minutes till midnight. The party my parents are throwing in the living room for their friends and favorite neighbors is busy enough that no one has noticed how Theo and I have slipped into my room with glasses of champagne.

“Cheers,” Theo says.

“Cheers.”

We clink glasses and swallow our first sips of champagne. It’s dry, crisp, and sour—exactly as the bottle advertised. We don’t close my door. In the event my parents do realize we’ve gone missing, I don’t want them thinking we’re having sex, especially if there’s any chance it’ll lead to another awkward talk with my dad. But it’s about to be midnight, and we’ll want to be alone for a few reasons.

I place my champagne down on my dresser and turn the TV on so we don’t miss the countdown. Four minutes until 2015.

“We’re going to kick next year’s ass, right?”

“Maybe we don’t kick next year’s ass, bully,” Theo says, throwing on his best serious face. “Maybe we invite it into our homes and take it out to dinner?” He cracks. “Nah, we’re kicking next year’s ass.” Theo places his glass down, too. He comes into my arms, holding me tight. He rests his chin on my shoulder for a few moments before snuggling his forehead against my neck, flesh on flesh.

The countdown is beginning, and the freezing crowd in Times Square is a chorus carrying us into January. My chest is tightening.

“Four,” I say.

“Three,” Theo says.

“Two.”

“One.”

“Happy New Year.” I shake my head in disbelief, marveling at the guy in front of me. It’s New Year’s, and I get to hold someone, and I get to be held. I get to kiss someone, and I get to be kissed. We kiss while “Auld Lang Syne” plays in the background, and I keep it together for as long as possible, but then I break and I’m crying.

“Griff, what’s up?”

“This song gets me sometimes.” I close my eyes. I’m a little embarrassed to be crying in front of him. “I love you, Theo.”

“I love me, too.”

“Be serious for two seconds. I’m crying.”

“Okay. One, two . . .”

“I take it back.”

“I love you more, Griffin,” Theo says, pulling me closer to him. “I’m blown away by how happy you make me. Thank you for being there for me when I’m stupid enough to think I’d rather be alone.”

When Theo gets into Santa Monica College—and he will because he’s Theo—it’ll be tough, but I apparently blow him away with how happy I make him. I won’t drop that ball.

I can’t predict what will happen this year, but I’m okay with more thunderstorms.





TODAY