“You think you can just walk in here like you belong?”
“So this whole reunion,” I said slowly, “the memory board, the captions, leaving me off the list, that was all you trying to put me back where you wanted me?”
“You were easier to love when you needed me.”
The silence that followed felt enormous.
Several people stared at Alison in disbelief.
A woman near the bar crossed her arms. “That’s actually really cruel.”
“That was all you trying to put me back where you wanted me?”
Another classmate stepped toward the display.
“I thought those captions were from some old yearbook joke,” someone said.
The room shifted.
You could feel it happening.
For the first time all night, people weren’t looking at me.
They were looking at her.
The room shifted.
“Alison,” I said, “I spent twenty years believing you were the only good thing about that time in my life. Turns out the good thing was me. I just couldn’t see it yet.”
