Jacob’s voice isthick.
On the verge of choked up.
Cry.
Theo remembers thinking it.
How desperately he wanted to see his father cry.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
Jacob squeezes his shoulder, then stands. “I’ll give you a moment to pull yourself together, son.”
He remembers biting down on his lip so hard it bled.
The taste of metal on his tongue.
Jacob repeating, “We’ll get through this.”
Nodding as if he’s capable of pulling himself together as his father exits… only to fall apart all over again because he’s not strong, because he’s in shock,because his mom has cancer.
Cancer.
Cancer.
Cancer.
“Theodore?”
He doesn’t remember Evelyn entering the studio shed—just the soft, tentative way she says his name and the gentle pressure of her hand on his chest. His heart hammering against her hand. Jacob’s voice is in his head.You have to be strong.He remembers feeling so embarrassed that she saw him like that. So relieved that he didn’t spill his guts all over the studio shed floor. Theo jerks back, away from her, because it’s too much, her touching him like that. It’s impossible to be strong when his heart is in her hand.
He remembers pushing, pushing, pushing.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not. I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
“I love her, too.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“She’s my mom, Evelyn.Mine.”
He remembers watching her expression as she registers the verbal blow—morphing from stunned, to pained, toangry. Knowing the precise combination of words that would hurt and saying them anyway because is that not strength? Lashing out, allowing emotions to manifest in anger? He remembers just wanting her to go away. Feeling so scared and lonely once she did. Then pulling himself together, swallowing the emotion—every emotion—until he didn’t feel anything at all.
13
Evie holds back Imogen’s hair as she vomits rainbow sprinkles and churros into a Main Street, U.S.A., trash bin.
“I can do the teacups, I said,” Imogen moans. “It’ll be different this year, I said.”
“Always the optimist.”