I nodded because I couldn’t speak.
The crowd parted as if it were nothing.
As we danced, tears slid down my cheeks, and I didn’t bother wiping them away.
“Would you dance with me?”
Grandpa had once mentioned a kid at the shop, the owner’s son, whose dad worked long hours and who used to hang around after school. I never asked who he was.
“Your grandpa showed me a picture of you the week before he died,” Glenn said softly. “He told me you were the best thing he ever did with his life.”
***
Later, Lorraine came up to me by the door. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Tina. Really.”
“Your grandpa showed me a picture of you.”
“Okay,” I said.
Just that. No warmth, no cruelty. Just “okay.”
***
I later went home, hung the dress carefully in the closet, and touched Grandpa’s photo on the shelf.
