Then his mother called again.
David was dead.
Even now, those words feel too simple for what they did to me.
David was dead.
His family’s house had been destroyed.
His mother told mine they were taking his remains out of state to be buried near relatives.
I wasn’t invited.
I didn’t get to see him.
I didn’t get to say goodbye.
And before I fully understood what was happening, his family had left town.
Life continued because life has the terrible habit of continuing whether you are ready or not.
I eventually married.
Had two children.
Divorced.
Worked.
Aged.
Became a grandmother.
But through every move, every new house, every new chapter, that prom photograph stayed with me.
Ellie was still staring at it.
Then she tapped David’s face.
“That’s him.”
I smiled faintly.
“Who?”
“The man at school.”
My smile disappeared.
“What man?”
