Chapter 3: The Saddest Thing I Know
Theo's eyes didn't leave mine.
The microphone picked up his breath before he found the words.
The whole room was holding something — air, grief, judgment — I couldn't tell anymore.
"Jack was gay."
My husband's hand tightened around mine.
"He knew it since he was fifteen.
He told me when we were seventeen, sitting on the floor of his room, and he made me swear I wouldn't tell a single person.
Not his teammates.
Not a teacher." Theo paused.
"Not you."
I couldn't move.
"He said — they'll still love me, Theo.
I know they will.
But I don't want them to look at me differently before I figure out how to feel about it myself.
He wanted time.
He was going to tell you.
He had a whole plan."
Someone near the back of the room was crying.
I heard it distantly, like something happening in another building.
"He got sick before he got the chance."
My husband made a sound beside me.
Not a word.
Just a sound.
The kind that comes up from somewhere you didn't know could open.
Theo reached into the neckline of the dress and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"He wrote you a letter.
He wrote it eight months ago, when he still thought he might have more time.
He gave it to me and said — if I don't make it, you read this at my funeral.
In front of everyone.
So my parents hear it the right way.
So they're not alone when they find out."
He unfolded it slowly.
"That's why the dress.
He said — wear something that makes people look at you before you even open your mouth.
Wear something they'll remember.
Because what you're about to say matters, and I want the room paying attention."
A sound moved through the pews.
Not a laugh — not quite — but something that recognized Jack in that sentence.
Something that knew him.
I recognized him too.
That was exactly the kind of thing he would think of.
Practical and theatrical at once.
Solving the problem before it arrived.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Theo smoothed the letter open on the podium.
"This is what he wrote." He looked down.
He took one breath.
Then he began.
*"Mom.
Dad.
If Theo is reading this, then I ran out of time to say it myself, and I'm sorry for that.
I'm sorry you're hearing it here.
I wanted to tell you over dinner, or on a Sunday, or during one of those long drives where nobody has to look at each other — you know the ones.
I had it planned so many ways."*
Theo's voice caught.
He kept going.
*"I need you to know that keeping this from you was the hardest thing I ever did.
Not because I was afraid you wouldn't love me.
I always knew you would.
I was afraid of the moment your picture of me changed — even just a little — and I wanted to be there to see it, so I could help you through it.
I didn't want you to be alone with the news.
I wanted to be in the room."*
My husband was shaking.
I felt it through our joined hands.
*"And now I can't be.
So I sent Theo."*
Theo stopped reading.
He folded the letter once, carefully, and set it down.
"That's — " He cleared his throat.
"That's all he wanted me to read here.
The rest is private.
It's addressed to you."
He reached under the podium and lifted a small cream-colored envelope.
He held it toward me across the distance of that entire room.
I don't remember standing.
May you like
But I was on my feet.
My husband stood with me.
