People turned.
Some openly stared.
One of Daniel’s brothers whispered, “What the hell?”
My first thought embarrasses me now.
I thought Theo was trying to make the funeral about himself.
Then I thought maybe he and Jack had fought before Jack died.
Something secret.
Something ugly.
I leaned toward two of Jack’s school friends.
“Did something happen between them?”
Both shook their heads.
One whispered, “No, Mrs. Harris.”
Theo sat alone near the aisle.
His hands were clenched together so tightly.
Daniel saw him a few minutes later.
“What is he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is Jack’s funeral.”
“I know.”
He started to stand.
I grabbed his sleeve. “Don’t.”
“He’s wearing a dress.”
“I can see that.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel’s face was raw from 17 days of barely sleeping.
Mine probably looked the same.
Grief makes you less patient with mystery.
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