“He bought it for a little girl.”
I felt something inside me break.
Then he smiled through his tears.
“But you had a boy.”
I laughed through my crying.
It was the strangest sound.
A broken little laugh.
Ethan continued.
“He kept it anyway.”
“Why?”
“Because he said the promise wasn’t about whether I was a boy or a girl.”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“It was about me.”
I covered my face.
All those years I had thought that red dress was just another forgotten object in an old trunk.
I had never known.
I had never understood.
And Ethan had somehow found the meaning buried inside it.
But there was still something I didn’t understand.
“Why graduation?”
Ethan was quiet.
Then he said:
“Because this was the first time in my life when I knew everyone would be watching.”
I stared at him.
He continued.
“And I needed them to see it.”
“See what?”
He glanced toward the rows of students.
“My friend.”
I frowned.
“What friend?”
Ethan didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he turned toward the back of the auditorium.
There was an empty seat.
One seat among hundreds.
And beside it sat an older woman I had never seen before.
She was crying.
Her hands were clasped tightly together.
Ethan stood.
The woman slowly rose too.
