Theodore had a secret ambition: to write a story about his life, his mother's life and death, and the things he had suffered at the hands of his father. Fictionalized, of course, but he felt that story needed to be told. The only problem was, he didn't know how his mother died, and that would bother him, maybe even hold him back (in so many ways), until he gathered that last piece. "Well I...maybe I will, then," he agreed, knowing already that he would at least try. Maybe, he would even show Jamie.
"My turn to...oh, right, ah." He thought for a moment. Jamie was an open book but Theodore wasn't sure on which page he should start. "What do you...think about when you're in bed at night...trying to fall asleep," he amended quickly, knowing how the rest of that sentence might sound without that caveat.