He looked at me.
“Your son didn’t stop hoping. He just stopped pretending he wasn’t scared.”
I closed my eyes.
For fourteen months, I had tried to be strong for Jack. I had hidden my tears in hospital bathrooms and smiled when I wanted to scream. I had treated every positive result like a promise and every setback like something I could bargain away if I prayed hard enough.
I wanted my son to believe he would survive.
I hadn’t understood that he could believe it too while quietly preparing for the possibility that he wouldn’t.
Theo glanced at the red dress.
“And this wasn’t Jack trying to embarrass me.”
He paused.
“Okay, it was partly Jack trying to embarrass me. He would have loved seeing my face right now.”
The room laughed.
Theo shook his head.
“But I think he wanted one last thing he could decide for himself.”
