I wanted to take his hand and lead him back outside. I wanted to place my body between him and every camera. Instead, I sat in the third row and kept my eyes on him, just as he had asked.
Name after name rose through the auditorium. Each time Aaron appeared in someone’s phone, the whispering started again. I held the program in my lap and tried to remember how to breathe.
Then the principal announced him.
Aaron crossed the stage beneath the white lights. Laughter moved through the seats like a wave. He did not hurry. He did not lower his head. He accepted his diploma, shook the principal’s hand, and faced the crowd for one long second before turning away.
That was when he began walking toward me.
The sound in the auditorium shifted. People leaned into the aisle. Someone whispered that he was making the whole thing worse. Aaron kept coming until he reached the third row.
