Her voice trembled.
“There’s a girl here. Behind the vending machines. She’s crying.”
I immediately pulled over.
“Norma, slow down. Who?”
“Her name is Claire, my classmate. Her mom lost her job. She’s in an old skirt and a cardigan with a button missing, and she’s hiding so no one sees her. I feel so bad, Mom. I wish I could do something.”
I closed my eyes.
I already knew exactly what was coming.
“Mom, I want to give her my dress,” Norma finished.
“Baby, no. You worked eight months.”
Silence filled the line.
When she finally spoke again, her voice was calm in a way that frightened me.
“Dad would’ve given it to her. He always said we should put others before ourselves.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Then what will you wear?” I whispered. “Won’t Kevin be upset?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Can you bring me something decent? Anything. Please. And don’t worry, Mom. Kevin asked me to prom, not to a fancy party.”
I turned the car around and sped home.
Joe’s Last Gift
I rushed straight to the closet, pulling out anything remotely formal.
Nothing worked.
My dresses were all too large for Norma.
Then my gaze settled on the garment bag hanging at the very back.
Joe’s suit.
For a long moment, I stood frozen, my fingers resting on the zipper.
Three years had passed since I had last opened it.
Three years since I had even moved it.
Slowly, I pulled the zipper down.
The black jacket appeared first.
Then the lapel.
Then the cluster of embroidered orange maple leaves.
I lifted it from the hanger.
“I’m sorry, Joe,” I whispered. “She needs you tonight.”
For illustrative purposes only
The Principal’s Shock
Norma met me at the side entrance.
She had already changed out of the gown and back into the T-shirt and leggings she had worn underneath. Claire was already wearing the dress.
“Mom, you brought it.”
My daughter ran both hands across the fabric.
“You brought Dad’s suit.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
In an empty hallway, I helped her put on the jacket.
The sleeves extended past her wrists.
The shoulders hung far too wide.
She looked like a girl and a memory at the same time.
“You look beautiful,” I said.
And I meant every word.
She kissed my cheek, inhaled deeply, and pushed open the gym doors.
Heads turned instantly.
Some students laughed at the oversized suit.
Others simply fell silent, uncertain what to think.
Then Kevin walked over with a smile.
“You look gorgeous.”
I stood at the back of the gym clutching my purse against my ribs.
Across the room, Mrs. Clinton turned away from the punch table.
Her hand froze.
A second later, her plastic cup slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor.
She crossed the gym as though she’d forgotten how to breathe.
Students stepped aside without understanding why.
When she reached Norma, she grabbed the sleeve and pressed her thumb against the orange maple leaves.
“Where did you get THIS suit?” she whispered.
“It was my dad’s,” Norma replied, puzzled.
“Where did your father get it? Did he ever say?”
“I don’t know. He just had it.”
