“You could have mailed the photos to me,” I said. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I know how that sounds.”
“You deserved a face,” Peter said. “Not another envelope.”
I stood up. My legs felt borrowed.
“I need to be alone,” I said.
“I know.”
He didn’t stand or reach for me. He slid the prom photo toward me and folded his hands.
“Keep it,” he said. “It was always yours.”
“I need to be alone.”
***
I walked past the window, past Hal and Marjorie as they were arriving, and past the maître d’, who asked if everything was okay.
I don’t remember answering.
***
A Different Chess Piece Appeared on My Porch Every Morning While My Husband Was Away – The Last One Made Me Call the Police
Everyone Laughed When I Agreed to Dance With the Class Outcast at Prom – But the Tiny Box He Handed Me at Midnight Made My Knees Buckle
My Son Ran Away from Home After His 18th Birthday – Six Years Later, He Returned and Said, ‘My Stepdad Has to Tell You the Truth!’
