And he went to jump.
He jumped three meters, forty-one centimeters.
Gold medal.
Zoe and I drove home along the lake that evening.
The sun was going down over the harbor. The ore freighters were coming in. Pete was out there somewhere. Guiding one of them under the Aerial Lift Bridge.
Zoe was quiet in the passenger seat. Holding her glitter sign in her lap.
“Mom,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
“Your sister,” Zoe said. “Aunt Annie. Did she ever get a medal?”
I thought about it.
Annie never did Special Olympics. My parents didn’t know about it. Or they thought she’d be embarrassed. Or they thought she’d get hurt.
She stayed home. She watched Elvis movies. She did puzzles at the kitchen table.
“No, baby,” I said. “She never did.”
Zoe was quiet for a long time.
“That’s not fair,” she said.
