I never considered that he might be making those plans because he needed something to look forward to, even when he was frightened.
Theo understood more than I did.
He saw Jack when Daniel and I were at work, trying to keep our jobs while taking turns at the hospital. He watched him struggle through treatments, endure the side effects, and pretend he wasn’t afraid.
I assumed Theo was simply being a good friend.
I didn’t know that, six months before Jack died, my son had asked him to make a promise.
A promise he had never told his parents about.
The funeral director approached the microphone.
“Thank you all for coming today to remember Jack Harris. We will now hear a few words from his closest friend, Theodore Bennett.”
My stomach tightened.
I’d forgotten Theo was supposed to give the eulogy.
He rose slowly.
The whispers started again as he walked toward the front.
