“Every time you waited for Noah, defended him, changed plans because he wasn’t invited, I wondered whether you felt responsible for him.”
“Mom…”
“I kept measuring your friendship by what Noah might need from you.” Her mouth trembled. “I never bothered measuring it by what he gives.”
Suddenly I saw six years differently.
“I kept measuring your friendship by what Noah might need from you.”
Ice cream after my driving test.
That stupid dinosaur in his locker.
Lunches when I couldn’t talk.
A porch when my heart was broken.
Noah hadn’t needed me to carry him.
We had simply kept showing up for each other.
“So what’s your condition?” I whispered.
Noah hadn’t needed me to carry him.
Mom smiled through tears.
“Don’t go tonight because six-year-old Chrissy promised him.” She squeezed my hand. “Promise me you’ll go because 18-year-old Christina chooses him.”
I laughed.
“Mom, I wasn’t going because of the promise.”
“I know that now.”
“The promise is just why Noah bought a bow tie four months early,” I said.
“Promise me you’ll go because 18-year-old Christina chooses him.”
That finally made her laugh.
We went downstairs.
Noah looked between us.
“You took a long time.”
Mom walked directly toward him.
“Noah, may I have the first dance?”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Mrs. Jane, this is not prom.”
I burst out laughing.
Mom put music on anyway.
“Noah, may I have the first dance?”
For 30 awkward seconds, Noah counted steps while Mom repeatedly stepped the wrong direction.
Finally he sighed.
“Mrs. Jane, Chrissy dances better.”
“That’s why she’s your date.” Mom’s voice softened. “Thank you for staying.”
Noah frowned as though she’d thanked him for breathing.
“She stays too.”
“Thank you for staying.”
Mom closed her eyes.
That was the answer she’d needed for years.
***
At prom, when the first slow song began, Noah held out his hand.
“Chrissy… You owe me.”
“Twelve years?”
“Yes.”
He stepped on my shoe within five seconds.
“You’re terrible at this.”
“Your dress is badly designed.”
“Chrissy… You owe me.”
We laughed until people stared.
