He glanced down.
“I want to wear it to graduation.”
For a second, I thought I had misunderstood.
“You want to what?”
He unfolded the dress.
I recognized it instantly.
I had helped choose it.
Mary had insisted on red.
Aaron ran his fingers across the fabric.
“I’m wearing it.”
I pulled out the chair across from him.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“No, Aaron.”
His expression didn’t change.
I lowered my voice.
“Do you understand what people will do?”
“Yes.”
“They’ll laugh.”
“I know.”
“They’ll take pictures.”
“I know.”
“They’ll post them online.”
“I know.”
I leaned toward him.
“They’ll eat you alive.”
Aaron met my eyes.
“I know, Mom.”
Then he said,
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
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