An usher hurried over.
For one relieved second, I thought that settled it. We had the tickets. He had the uniform. There was nothing left to argue about.
I underestimated how badly the man needed to win.
“You need to get out of his seat.”
“Is there a problem here?”
“Yes,” I said. “They’re in our accessible seats and refusing to move.”
The usher looked at our tickets.
Then at the couple.
“Sir, ma’am, I’ll need you to return to your assigned seats.”
The man gave a short laugh.
“Is there a problem here?”
“We’re fine here.”
“These seats are assigned.”
“You can move them.”
Caleb tugged gently at my sleeve.
“Mom.”
I looked down. His face had gone red.
“We’re fine here.”
People nearby were staring.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “We can watch from the hallway.”
Something in me cracked.
He was asking because strangers were staring, and giving up had become less embarrassing than making everyone wait for him.
