I remembered the soft click of the hospital door after they abandoned me, the gold clasp on Karen’s purse, and especially the word Thomas had used to define my future: average. I searched the auditorium until I found Laura standing near the side of the stage, and she immediately recognized what was happening from the expression on my face.
Laura didn’t rush toward me or turn my graduation into a confrontation. She simply placed one hand against her chest, giving me the quiet signal we both understood.
I’m here.
That was enough to keep me in my seat. A few moments later, I heard Karen lean toward Thomas and whisper something that proved fifteen years had changed almost nothing about the way she viewed me.
“She owes us this moment after everything.”
I almost laughed, because there was something astonishing about people who had abandoned every difficult chapter arriving just in time to claim a place in the ending. They hadn’t been there for chemotherapy, remission, college, medical school, or the nights when Laura worked extra shifts to help me survive financially, but they had arrived perfectly on time for the photographs and applause.
