In late May Theo received an offer from a college two hours away.
He had applied before Jack’s condition worsened.
The program was one he had wanted for years.
There was a scholarship, though not enough to cover every expense.
Mara called me with the news.
“He hasn't told you yet,” she said.
“Is he pleased?”
“He's frightened.”
I assumed she meant the money.
But when Theo visited, he explained that the practical details were only part of it.
“I don't know if I can go,” he said.
“Because of the costs?” Daniel asked.
“Because of everything.”
He sat on the porch steps where he and Jack used to eat ice cream in summer.
“I keep thinking something will happen here and I won't know.”
I understood what he meant.
He had been present for almost every important moment of Jack’s illness.
Now he feared that absence itself would become another kind of failure.
Daniel sat beside him.
“The worst thing already happened,” he said quietly.
Theo looked down.
“I know.”
“You don't have to keep watch anymore.”
Theo picked at a loose thread on his jeans.
“Jack said I should go.”
“Then listen to him,” Daniel said.
“That isn't fair,” Theo answered.
Daniel looked startled.
“Why?”
“Because every time I think about what I want, somebody tells me what Jack wanted. I know he wanted me to live. But I have to decide what that looks like.”
Daniel was silent.
Then he nodded.
“You're right.”
It was important that he said it without adding a defense.
We talked about the college course.
We asked whether Theo had visited the campus.
He had not.
Mara offered to drive him.
I suggested he spend the day there without us.
He looked relieved.
A week later he went with two friends.
When he returned he talked about studios, lecture rooms and a tiny café near the library.
His expression changed as he described the course.
He sounded excited.
Then he caught himself and looked guilty.
I wanted to tell him not to.
Instead I asked what subject he was most looking forward to studying.
He answered for nearly ten minutes.
In July he accepted the place.
Mara helped him prepare a budget.
His parents each contributed what they could.
The school financial office clarified the scholarship conditions and payment schedule.
Daniel offered to help him transport furniture, but only after Theo asked.
I bought him a set of cooking utensils.
He laughed when he opened the box.
“Are you saying I can't cook?”
“I'm saying I've eaten your cooking.”
He pointed at me.
“Jack liked my pasta.”
“Jack ate anything with enough cheese.”
We both laughed.
The sound surprised me less than it once had.
As the moving day approached, Theo became quieter again.
He asked whether we would mind if he took the photograph of himself and Jack standing beside the red-painted volcano.
“I thought you'd want it here,” he said.
“We have another copy.”
He smiled.
Then he asked something that made me stop folding the towels in my hands.
“Will it be strange if I don't call every week?”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“Even if I get busy?”
“Especially then.”
He seemed to be waiting for a condition.
There wasn't one.
“You can call because you want to talk,” I said. “Not because you owe us proof you're thinking of Jack.”
Theo swallowed.
“Okay.”
On the day he left, Daniel secured the boxes in the car.
Mara checked his list three times.
I gave him a small envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of Jack’s note about the red dress.
I had asked his permission before making it.
Theo slipped it into his bag.
Then he hugged us both.
“I'll visit,” he said.
“When you want to,” Daniel answered.
Theo got into the car.
He waved through the window.
Then they drove away.
Our street became quiet again.
I stood on the porch until the car disappeared.
For years Theo’s footsteps had been part of the sound of our house.
I would miss them.
I also knew we had done something necessary by letting him go.
The visit to Theo’s college was harder for me than the day he left.
Mara invited us to see a student exhibition in October.
Theo had contributed a small mechanical display.
It moved colored paper pieces through a series of gears.
I did not understand how it worked.
That was not important.
I wanted to see what he had made.
We drove through rolling hills and arrived early.
Students hurried between buildings carrying bags and paper cups.
Groups laughed on benches.
For a moment I felt a sharp ache imagining Jack among them.
He would have complained about the parking.
He would have asked whether the cafeteria served anything edible.
He might have changed his mind about engineering entirely.
There were so many lives he would never try.
Theo greeted us outside the exhibition hall.
He hugged Daniel and kissed my cheek.
Then he introduced us to three friends.
They knew Jack had died, but they had not known him.
I was startled by that.
For almost a year, everybody around us had been connected to Jack in some way.
Now Theo had people in his life who knew only the person standing before them.
They called him by a nickname I had never heard.
He laughed at a joke I did not understand.
I realized I was seeing him build a life where grief was part of his history rather than the first thing everybody knew.
One friend asked whether we were Theo’s parents.
Theo answered before I could.
“They're family,” he said.
Then he introduced us by our names.
I was grateful.
The label was affectionate without asking us to explain a complicated history.
We spent an hour at the exhibition.
Daniel asked questions about gears and motors.
Theo explained patiently.
At lunch he told us he was enjoying a class he had initially expected to hate.
He had joined a student club.
He was learning to say no when classmates asked him to take on every group project.
I thought of Jack’s letter telling us not to turn him into everybody's caretaker.
I hoped Theo could make that boundary hold.
On the drive home Daniel said, “He seemed happy.”
“He did.”
“Is it terrible that I felt jealous for a minute?”
I glanced at him.
“Of whom?”
“The boys who get to grow older.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
“No,” I said. “I think it's a human feeling.”
We drove quietly for a while.
Then Daniel added, “I was glad for him too.”
“Both can be true.”
That evening I found a photograph Mara had taken of us beside Theo’s display.
We looked proud.
We also looked tired.
I printed it and placed it in an album.
Our connection with Theo would keep changing.
It was supposed to.
That did not make it less real.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Birthday We Dreaded and the Small Celebration Jack Would Have Recognized
The Red Dress in the Funeral Chapel and the Promise Our Son Had Kept from Us
Part 10 of 16
