At 6, I Promised My Best Friend with Down Syndrome We’d Go to Prom Together – 12 Years Later, Mom Said I Could Go with Him Only on One Condition
“He’s my best friend.”
“What does Dad have to do with prom?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are we talking about him?”
“Because there’s something that happened that year.”
I folded my arms.
“What?”
Mom looked toward the floor.
“You were 12.”
“I know.”
“You stopped eating lunch.”
My arms slowly dropped.
“How do you know that?”
“Because there’s something that happened that year.”
“Noah told me.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
“He found me one afternoon.”
“Where?”
“In the school parking lot.”
Something in her expression made the room feel suddenly smaller.
“He caught me crying in the car,” Mom admitted.
I sat beside her.
“Mom…”
“He found me one afternoon.”
“I thought nobody saw me.” She rubbed her palms together. “But Noah did.”
Downstairs, faintly, I heard Noah laugh at something my aunt said.
Mom heard it too.
Her face crumpled for half a second before she controlled it.
“What did he say to you?” I urged.
“I thought nobody saw me.”
She looked at me.
“He asked me if you were broken.”
My breath caught. “Why?”
“Because you weren’t eating, sweetie. You weren’t laughing. He said you sat by yourself sometimes.”
I looked toward the door.
I’d forgotten most of those lunches.
Apparently Noah hadn’t.
“What did you tell him?”
“He asked me if you were broken.”
“I told him you weren’t broken.” Mom swallowed. “Then he said something I’ve remembered for six years.”
“What?”
Her fingers closed around mine.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“He said, ‘Good. Because I don’t know how to fix people. I only know how to stay.'”
