"But?"
"We simply want the day to remain focused on the graduating class. We can offer Aaron a more appropriate option."
I looked across the kitchen.
Aaron was standing near the stairs.
He could hear every word.
"What kind of option?"
"We have an extra graduation outfit available."
"He already has clothes."
There was a pause.
"We're trying to prevent a difficult situation."
Aaron held out his hand for the phone.
I gave it to him.
He listened for a few seconds.
Then he said, "Thank you, but I'm wearing the dress."
Another pause.
"No. I understand."
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
"You can still change your mind."
He picked up the garment bag.
"I won't."
"I already sent them Mary's graduation photo," he said. "I asked them to put it on the screen when I give the signal."
"Does the school know why?"
"About Mary, yes. About the dress, no."
By the time we reached the auditorium, I could barely breathe.
People noticed almost immediately. Some students stared. A few laughed.
One mother looked at Aaron, then whispered something to the woman beside her.
Both glanced in our direction.
Aaron stood with his class as though none of it bothered him.
But I knew my son.
