“I’ve done it enough times not to step on your toes, but if I do, it’s because my mom gave me bad training,” Terry wrote.
“I’ll trade you in for the dish towel,” I typed back.
***
After school the day before prom, my boyfriend pulled me into a long hug by his car.
“I gotta drive to the next town,” he said. “My suit’s finally ready. The tailor called this morning.”
Terry grinned that lopsided grin of his.
“You’ll see it tomorrow,” then he kissed me goodbye.
I stood in the parking lot watching his taillights disappear, not knowing it was the last time I’d ever see him standing on his own two feet.
***
At home, my mother, Sylvia, was already fussing in the kitchen when I walked in. She had that too-bright smile she used whenever she was working up to saying something.
