Not at me. At Patrick.
He said, “Sorry. I can’t pretend nothing has happened.”
Patrick went completely still.
Caleb reached inside his gown and took out a sealed envelope.
His hand was trembling.
“Now everyone will find out what you did.”
The principal stepped once toward the stage, then stopped. No one knew what to do with that sentence.
Patrick muttered, “Caleb. Sit down.”
Caleb did not listen.
He opened the envelope and pulled out an old photograph.
Even from the bleachers, I recognized it.
Caleb as a little boy, perched on his father’s shoulders by the lake. And behind them, smiling, stood his grandmother.
My late husband’s mother. I had not seen her in years.
Caleb held the photo up and said, “I spent most of this year believing my dad’s family had stopped caring about me.”
No one moved.
“I was told they moved on. I was told they didn’t want contact. I was told I needed to stop chasing people who didn’t want me.”
He looked at Patrick again.
“A month ago, I found the graduation invitation I had filled out for my grandmother. I thought I’d misplaced it. But it had been opened, torn, and hidden in the garage before I ever got the chance to mail it.”
A cold feeling slid through me.
He continued.
“That made me start looking.”
Patrick said, low and hard, “Enough.”
Caleb said, “No.”
Then he added, “Patrick never throws paperwork away. He keeps everything.”
My stomach dropped, because that was true.
