I had no patience left for anything that didn’t make sense.
And Theo, the boy who had practically grown up in our house, suddenly made no sense to me at all.
He took a seat near the aisle, several rows behind us. He kept his eyes down and folded his hands in his lap.
Daniel turned to me.
“I’m going to ask him to leave.”
I caught his sleeve.
“Don’t.”
“Rachel, look at him.”
“I am looking at him.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t.”
That was the terrible truth.
I couldn’t explain it, and the fact that I couldn’t made me angrier than I wanted to admit.
I thought about everything our family had endured over the previous fourteen months. The hospital appointments. The sleepless nights. The frightening conversations with doctors who spoke carefully because they didn’t want to destroy what little hope we had left.
I thought about Jack’s final days, when even sitting upright required more strength than he seemed to possess.
