Three weeks later, at graduation, Anthony sat to my left with Gina beside him.
When Iris’s name was called, all three of us stood.
Afterward, Anthony waited until Iris reached for him first. She hugged him, then came to me.
“I don’t hate you,” she whispered. “But I don’t trust you the same way.”
“I’ll earn it back.”
“No more deciding what truth I can handle.”
“No more,” I promised.
“I don’t hate you.”
Ryan came up beside us.
Iris gave him a small smile. “Worst prom story ever.”
“Definitely top five,” he said.
Then Iris looked at all of us.
“One picture,” she said. “Everybody.”
“Worst prom story ever.”
We stood together, awkward and honest.
For twelve years, I thought I had built a wall to keep pain away from my daughter.
