Margaret Walks Across the High School Stage on a Warm June Morning
The kitchen was quiet when I got home at six. Brian was already at the table, a basket of clean laundry sitting on the chair beside him. He was folding a pair of work trousers, his movements slow and deliberate.
I set my purse on the counter and laid the cream-colored invitation next to his coffee mug. “Vance offered a compromise today.”
Brian stopped folding and looked at the card. He picked it up with his thick fingers, his eyes moving slowly over the printed words.
“The fourteenth,” Brian said, his voice gruff and quiet. “That is the day before.”
“Yes,” I said, leaning against the counter. “A private ceremony in his office. Just us, Vance, and the superintendent.”
Brian rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger, a familiar gesture that always meant he was trying to hold back a headache. He set the card down and picked up the trousers again.
“It seems like a good compromise, Margaret,” he said. “We get the diploma. We don’t have to sit through three hours of speeches in that hot gym. We don’t have to face the whole town.”
