At 6, I Promised My Best Friend with Down Syndrome We’d Go to Prom Together – 12 Years Later, Mom Said I Could Go with Him Only on One Condition

Not normal silence.

The kind that makes you stop moving.

Prom had always seemed like one of those things that happened to older people.

I stepped closer to the landing.

Noah stood in the entryway.

Navy suit.

White shirt.

That ridiculous bow tie perfectly straight.

In one hand, he held a small corsage.

He was smiling.

Mom wasn’t.

She was staring at him.

“Mrs. Jane?”

Mom blinked. “Oh. Noah. Hi.”

In one hand, he held a small corsage.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

But she wasn’t.

I knew my mother.

Something had changed the second she saw him.

Her eyes dropped to the corsage.

Then to his bow tie.

Then back to his face.

For one strange second, she looked like she’d seen a ghost.

Something had changed the second she saw him.

“Chrissy is almost ready,” she said quickly.

“I am ready.”

Mom turned and saw me on the stairs.

Her face changed again.

“Come upstairs with me.”

“What?”

“Just for a minute.”

“Mom, Noah’s waiting.”

“I know.”

Noah lifted the corsage. “I have this.”

“I can see that,” I said.

“It’s rosemary.”

“Come upstairs with me.”

I paused halfway down.

“Rosemary?”

“The florist said it means remembering.” He looked extremely pleased with himself. “And I remember promises.”

My heart sank.

Mom made a small sound behind me.

When I turned, her eyes were wet.

“Mom?”

“Upstairs, Chrissy.”

This time she didn’t ask.

“And I remember promises.”

***

The second we entered my bedroom, she shut the door.

Then locked it.

“Okay, you’re scaring me, Mom.”

She faced me.

“You can go with Noah tonight, but only on one condition.”

Anger hit me before fear did.

“If this is about Noah having Down syndrome, I swear to God…”

“Okay, you’re scaring me, Mom.”

“No.”

“Because I’m 18, Mom.”

“I know.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“I know that too.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Mom pressed her lips together.

For several seconds, she couldn’t speak.

Finally, she sat on my bed.

“Do you remember the year your father left?”

The question caught me off guard.

“He’s my best friend.”

“What does Dad have to do with prom?”

“Nothing.”