“About six months ago, Jack and I were watching a terrible horror movie in his room. He insisted it was a classic. It wasn’t. The acting was awful, the monster looked like it had been made out of wet cardboard, and I could see the ending coming from the first ten minutes.”
A few of Jack’s friends laughed.
“He’d just come back from another scan. His parents weren’t home yet, so it was just the two of us.”
My smile faded.
I remembered that scan.
The results had been worse than we hoped. The doctors hadn’t said there was no chance, but they had started discussing new treatment options and asking us to prepare for different outcomes.
I remembered leaving Jack’s room that evening because I couldn’t bear to let him see me cry.
Theo continued.
“Halfway through the movie, Jack paused it and said, ‘Theo, I need you to do something for me.’”
