“Yes?”
“Chrissy dances better.”
Mom laughed.
“That’s why she’s your date.”
Then the humor disappeared from her face.
She looked directly at him.
“Thank you for staying.”
Noah seemed confused by the seriousness of the statement.
To him, staying had never been extraordinary.
It was simply what friends did.
He shrugged.
“She stays too.”
Mom closed her eyes for a second.
Those three words seemed to answer a question she had been carrying for six years.
Twelve Years Later
Prom itself was surprisingly ordinary.
And that was what made it perfect.
No dramatic announcement was made when we arrived.
Nobody stopped the music.
Nobody treated Noah like a symbol.
Nobody treated me like I had done something heroic by showing up with my best friend.
We were simply two eighteen-year-olds going to prom.
When the first slow song began, Noah turned toward me.
“Chrissy.”
“Yes?”
He held out his hand.
