Chapter 21 - THE WISH THEO NEVER FINISHED
At sixteen, Theo finally told me his eighth-birthday wish.
We were sitting in the bleachers after a baseball game.
He had struck out twice and hit a double in the final inning.
The field lights were shutting down.
“I wished Dad could see the party and know we were okay.”
I looked across the empty field.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Cody said it wouldn’t come true.”
“You knew wishing couldn’t bring Dad back.”
“I didn’t wish him back. I wished he could see.”
Grief had not been childish fantasy.
It had been a request for witness.
“Do you think he would’ve thought we were okay?” Theo asked.
“Not during the cake.”
He smiled slightly.
“After?”
“I think he would have seen that we became okay slowly.”
Theo looked down at his cleats.
“He would’ve been mad about the company.”
“Yes.”
“At you too?”
“For not reading the payment schedules? Probably.”
“And for pulling the table?”
“Definitely.”
“Good.”
Daniel remained lovable without becoming a silent judge who always agreed with us.
Theo watched the full party footage at sixteen with his therapist.
He saw Cody climb.
Drew whisper.
The slow clap.
My hands on the table.
Cody fall.
Theo watched himself ask whether the birthday was boring.
He paused the video.
“I looked so small.”
“You were eight.”
“Why didn’t anyone stop Cody before he jumped?”
Several adults saw him climb and assumed a parent would intervene.
Some thought it was a joke.
One began filming.
The answer was not satisfying.
It was true.
Theo chose to preserve one authenticated copy in his legal archive.
He requested that all family duplicates be destroyed.
The police copy remained under retention rules.
No public release.
His humiliation had served the case.
It did not need to serve strangers forever.
We shredded the prepared guardian petition together after preserving the legal original.
Theo watched the paper become strips.
“Do you feel better?” I asked.
“No.”
“Worse?”
“No.”
“Then why do it?”
“I don’t need two.”
The practical answer reflected maturity better than ceremony.
At seventeen, he began formal trust education.
He learned the company history, employee obligations, Daniel’s decisions, Drew’s claimed contributions, and my mistakes.
No one presented a clean heroic version.
He said:
“Dad protected me with a secret and made Mom easier to trick.”
“Yes.”
“Drew helped build part of the company and still stole from me.”
“Yes.”
“Mom protected me and hurt Cody.”
“Yes.”
May you like
“Adults are exhausting.”
Also yes.
