“He said it was a classic. It was not.”
A few of Jack’s friends laughed softly.
Theo continued.
“He’d just gotten back from another scan. His parents weren’t home yet.”
I looked at Daniel.
I remembered that scan.
The results had been bad.
Not hopeless. Not officially.
But bad enough that the doctor had started using phrases like “next-line treatment” and “managing expectations.”
Theo said, “Jack asked me if I’d speak at his funeral.”
The air left my chest.
Daniel sat down.
Theo looked toward us.
“I told him to shut up.”
His eyes filled.
“I was mad at him for even saying it.”
Then he laughed through his tears.
“I told him, ‘I’ll speak at your funeral when you show up to mine wearing a dress.'”
