Theo kept his hands on the podium.
The chapel was so quiet that I could hear someone shifting in a chair behind me.
He looked uncomfortable.
Not embarrassed exactly.
More like a person who had spent days preparing to do something difficult and had suddenly realized how many people were waiting for him to fail.
"I borrowed the dress from my sister."
He paused.
"She didn't think it was a good idea, either."
A few people exchanged glances.
Theo swallowed.
"But she let me have it because she understood why I needed to wear it."
I looked toward the back of the chapel.
A young woman sat there with her hands pressed together in her lap.
She was watching Theo with tears already running down her face.
His sister.
I hadn't even noticed her when the service began.
Theo took a breath and continued.
"This started about six months ago."
Six months.
I tried to remember what our lives had looked like then.
Jack had been home from another appointment.
His treatments had become a regular part of our lives, and we had grown accustomed to measuring time between hospital visits.
There were good days.
There were days when the doctors gave us reasons to remain hopeful.
And there were days when Daniel and I sat in the car afterward, neither of us knowing what to say.
We tried to protect Jack from our fear.
He tried to protect us from his.
I didn't know how much he had told Theo.
I was about to find out.
"Jack and I were in his bedroom watching a movie."
Theo's mouth moved into the smallest smile.
"It was one of those horror films he thought everyone should appreciate."
A few classmates laughed quietly.
"He spent most of it explaining why the director was a genius. I spent most of it wondering why we hadn't watched something better."
That sounded like them.
Jack had always been convinced that his opinions were correct, especially when they concerned movies nobody else liked.
Theo glanced at the coffin.
"I think we were about halfway through when Jack started talking about his funeral."
The smile disappeared.
I felt Daniel's hand tighten around mine.
Theo looked down.
"I told him to stop."
He rubbed his thumb against the edge of the podium.
"I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to imagine it. I didn't want him sitting there talking about something that wasn't supposed to happen."
My throat tightened.
I understood that feeling.
Daniel and I had done everything we could to keep conversations about death at a distance.
When Jack talked about the future, we followed him there.
When he talked about college, we asked which schools he liked.
When he talked about traveling, we asked where he wanted to go first.
We encouraged every plan.
We never wanted him to believe we had given up on him.
But Theo had been there for conversations we never heard.
He had seen a different side of our son.
"He asked me if I'd say something at his funeral."
Theo's voice cracked.
"I told him he was being ridiculous."
He tried to smile.
"Then I got angry. I said I wasn't going to stand in front of a room full of people talking about him because he was going to get better."
He stopped.
For a moment, he couldn't continue.
Nobody interrupted him.
"I really believed that."
He wiped his face with one hand.
"Or maybe I needed to believe it. I don't know."
I looked at Jack's photograph on the table beside the coffin.
He was smiling in that picture.
Not a careful smile for the camera.
A real one, with his head tilted slightly and his eyes narrowed because someone had made him laugh just before the photograph was taken.
I remembered that afternoon.
I remembered asking him to stand still.
I remembered him complaining that I was taking too many pictures.
I would have given anything to hear that complaint again.
Theo drew another breath.
"Anyway, I told Jack I'd speak at his funeral if he agreed to do something for me."
I felt a strange sense of dread.
He looked down at the red dress.
"I told him that if I died first, he had to come to my funeral wearing a dress."
A few people made startled sounds.
Somebody near the back gave a nervous laugh.
Theo's cheeks reddened, but he continued.
"Jack thought that was hilarious."
Of course he did.
My son had always loved a ridiculous bargain.
If there was a chance to turn a serious conversation into a joke, he would take it.
"He said we had a deal."
Theo's voice softened.
"Then he told me that if he died first, I'd have to wear one to his funeral."
Daniel lowered his head.
I could no longer tell whether he was crying or trying to hold himself together.
Theo glanced at the dress again.
"Red was part of the deal."
A woman in the front row covered her mouth.
"He said black would make me look like someone who worked at the funeral home. He didn't want me looking that miserable."
A few people laughed.
It was a small sound at first.
Then somebody else joined in.
The laughter faded quickly, but something in the room had changed.
For the first time, the dress didn't seem quite so strange.
I could almost hear Jack saying it.
I could imagine the expression on his face when he made the suggestion.
He would have been pleased with himself.
He would have expected Theo to complain.
And he would have laughed even harder when Theo eventually agreed.
I pressed my fingers against my lips.
My son had made that promise while he was still making plans for a future he wanted desperately to reach.
Six months earlier.
Not six days.
Not the night before he died.
Six months.
Theo continued.
"I kept telling him there wouldn't be a funeral. I said he was going to be fine, and one day we'd laugh about how stupid this conversation had been."
He looked toward Jack's coffin.
"He told me he hoped I was right."
Theo's voice became quieter.
"But he wanted me to promise anyway."
I stared at him.
That was the part I couldn't stop thinking about.
Jack had asked his best friend to prepare for his death while his father and I were still planning for his recovery.
We had been searching for reasons to believe the future was waiting for him.
He had been doing the same thing.
But he had also been brave enough to ask what would happen if the future never arrived.
I didn't know how to reconcile those two things.
I had spent months watching my son fight an illness that had taken so much from him.
I had watched him endure treatment, exhaustion, and days when even ordinary tasks became difficult.
I had told myself that if we kept believing, he would keep believing, too.
Now I wondered whether my determination to protect him had sometimes made it harder for him to tell me the truth.
Theo wiped his cheeks again.
"I thought saying no would make him feel like I couldn't handle talking about it. So I agreed."
He reached into the pocket of the red dress.
The movement was so unexpected that several people leaned forward.
Theo noticed.
For the first time that morning, I almost smiled.
The dress had a pocket.
Jack would have considered that an important detail.
Theo pulled out a folded piece of paper.
It was small enough to fit inside his palm.
He held it carefully, as though it might fall apart.
"Jack wrote something down after we made the promise."
I leaned forward.
Theo looked toward me.
"Mrs. Harris, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner."
His eyes were red.
"I wanted to. I just couldn't figure out how."
I shook my head slightly.
I didn't know what to say.
He unfolded the paper.
"I thought you should hear it from him."
Then he began to read.
"Theo, if you're reading this because I didn't make it, that's pretty embarrassing for me."
A laugh escaped someone in the chapel.
Then another.
I recognized the humor immediately.
Even in a message about his own death, Jack had found a way to make himself the target of the joke.
Theo smiled through his tears.
"First, you made a promise. You have to wear red. Don't back out just because some of my relatives might think it's weird."
Daniel made a broken sound beside me.
It was half a laugh.
Half a sob.
I reached for his hand again.
Theo looked down at the paper.
He seemed to hesitate before reading the last line.
Then he continued.
"And don't start forgetting your promises just because I'm not here to remind you."
The words settled over the chapel.
No one laughed this time.
Theo lowered the note.
He stared at it for several seconds before folding it along the same creases.
"I almost didn't come today."
He spoke so quietly that I had to lean forward to hear him.
"My dad said people would get the wrong idea. My mom thought everyone would be upset. My sister told me the whole thing sounded crazy."
His eyes moved toward the back of the chapel.
His sister gave him a small, tearful smile.
"But she still lent me the dress."
Theo looked down at the red fabric.
"I knew people would talk. I knew some of you might think I was making fun of Jack."
He lifted his head.
"I wasn't."
His voice broke.
"I was trying to keep my word to my best friend."
I looked at the boy standing before us.
For the past several minutes, I had heard him explain a promise.
But now I understood something else.
He hadn't worn the dress because he wanted to make the funeral about himself.
He had worn it because he couldn't bear the thought of failing Jack in the one way that still remained possible.
Everyone else in the chapel had come to say goodbye.
Theo had come to do something Jack had specifically asked him to do.
And I had nearly allowed Daniel to ask him to leave before we knew the truth.
I felt ashamed.
Then I felt something even harder to bear.
I realized Theo had been afraid of hurting us, even while he was grieving the same boy we were.
He had walked into that chapel knowing people might judge him.
He had sat among us and listened to the whispers.
He had waited until it was time to speak, carrying a promise that belonged to him and Jack alone.
And I had mistaken his fear for indifference.
I couldn't stay in my seat.
I stood.
Theo saw me move.
His expression changed immediately.
For one terrible second, he looked as though he expected me to stop him.
I walked toward the podium.
He stepped back from the microphone.
"Mrs. Harris, I'm sorry."
I reached him before he could say anything else.
Then I wrapped my arms around him.
He was taller than I remembered.
The little boy who used to arrive at our house with dirty shoes and a backpack hanging from one shoulder had grown into a young man.
But when I held him, he bent toward me just as he had when he was younger.
His shoulders began to shake.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again.
I held him tighter.
"You don't have to apologize."
He tried to pull back.
"I should have told you."
I touched his shoulder.
"You're telling me now."
He cried harder.
I did, too.
For several seconds, neither of us said anything.
The chapel remained quiet around us.
Then I gently turned him back toward the microphone.
"Finish what you came here to say, Theo."
He looked at me uncertainly.
I nodded.
"Tell us about Jack."
He wiped his face and returned to the podium.
I walked back to Daniel.
My husband was crying openly now.
When I sat beside him, he took my hand without looking away from Theo.
The red dress no longer seemed like an offense.
It seemed like the last thing Jack had asked his best friend to do.
And we had finally allowed him to do it.
Source: kaylestore.net
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The Seven Pages Theo Had Prepared for My Son’s Funeral Were Nothing Compared With the Memories He Chose to Share
I Thought My Son’s Best Friend Had Crossed a Line Until I Saw What He Was Carrying Into the Chapel
Part 2 of 12
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