He looked at us.
“He knew before most of us were willing to know.”
I closed my eyes. “He knew he might die.”
The words hurt even though we’d already buried him.
“And somehow he still spent half his time trying to make everybody else less afraid.”
Theo touched the dress.
“This wasn’t Jack making fun of me.”
He smiled.
“Okay. It was partly Jack making fun of me.”
More laughter.
“But mostly I think he wanted one last thing he could control.”
That landed harder than anything else.
Cancer had taken control away from Jack piece by piece.
His school. His hair. His appetite. His privacy. His plans.
Eventually, his ability to walk without help.
But he had chosen this.
A red dress.
A promise.
A joke waiting six months for its punch line.
Theo finished, “So this is for Jack.”
He looked down at himself.
“I hate it.”
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