Ethan insisted on carrying his certificate himself.
He also insisted the yellow blanket go into my purse because, according to him, “public display has served its function.”
Denise and Jonathan were staying at a hotel near the university.
My parents planned to drive home.
I expected Ethan to come with me.
Instead, he stood in the parking lot and looked between our cars.
“I want ice cream.”
I blinked.
“You ate three cheesecakes.”
“Two and a half. Jonathan took part of one.”
Jonathan raised a hand.
“Guilty.”
“You want more dessert?”
“This is graduation.”
He said it as though graduation suspended all ordinary dietary rules.
Denise smiled.
“There’s an ice cream place around the corner.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Can we all go?”
All.
That word had rarely included Denise.
“Sure.”
The ice cream shop had six tables, a black-and-white tiled floor, and a teenage employee who looked increasingly confused as Ethan requested samples of four flavors and evaluated them as though defending a thesis.
