“Eva, that girl deserved kindness too.”
I dropped it on the bed.
“That dress isn’t too much, honey,” she said. “It’s exactly enough.”
“I almost threw the invitation away.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you tell me to go?”
“Because every time you talked about that school, you sounded like you were still standing in the hallway.”
“I almost threw the invitation away.”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re not going there to impress them,” Mom said. “You’re going there to prove you can walk into that room and still breathe.”
“And if Madison is there?”
“Then breathe louder. Take up space, my darling.”
I laughed, even though my eyes burned.
“Take up space, my darling.”
I left the cardigan on the bed.
Then I came back, folded it, and put it in my bag.
Ten years of fear didn’t vanish because of one red dress.
***
The reunion was at a downtown hotel with bright lights, blue and silver balloons, and a banner that said, “WELCOME BACK, CLASS OF 2016!”
I stood outside the ballroom doors for a full minute before a man with a committee badge hurried over.
“WELCOME BACK, CLASS OF 2016!”
“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you with the event staff?”
I looked down at my dress, then back at him.
“Unless the hotel serves champagne in heels, no.”
His face flushed. “Sorry. I just don’t recognize you.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Most people won’t.”
He pointed to the name tag table. “Grab yours before you go in.”
“Sorry. I just don’t recognize you.”
I found it right away.
EVANGELINE.
I touched the sticker, then left it there.
Not yet.
***
Inside, people stood in circles, laughing too loudly and checking who’d aged well. Old classmates hugged like they hadn’t ignored each other for a decade.
I touched the sticker.
Men talked about jobs. Women compared rings, babies, houses, and vacations.
A woman near the bar looked at me twice. “Sorry, were you in our class?”
“Yes, I was.”
She tilted her head. “I feel terrible. I don’t recognize you.”
“Don’t,” I said. “You’re not the only one.”
