What I Remember
WHAT I REMEMBER
Eight years ago. Prom tickets.
Told more than once by strict faculty that losing them meant forfeiting our spot. Nothing was said about drawing on them, Issac Jordan pointed out when I found him using orange permanent marker to design a corner of his with fallen rose petals. I asked him to do the same for me; he offered a trade: I design his, he design mine, despite him knowing his ticket would probably look like it was decorated by a preschooler.
I debated asking my mother what to draw on his ticket, but when she wasn’t in bed, grieving my father silently, she was dragging herself out of it for work to keep our lights on. Neither instances were good times to talk to her, which meant trying my best and hoping Issac was expecting less.
My mother did put aside her grief to do my hair and help lace my shoes for prom. But when Issac’s date, Lisa Hotchkiss, and my date, Liam Roger, came to the house for pictures, Vanessa Thompson, embarrassing as she was at times, forced the two of them to watch as she snapped pictures of me and Issac in around-the-waist prom poses.
“Dennis would have loved this,” she said, and the moment the name left her mouth, I spied her eyes watering and felt my own mood shift. Issac, noticing me getting quieter, anxious to leave, pulled me to the kitchen to talk in private. But he didn’t ask why my face had fallen, only hugged me hard before giving me the ticket he’d designed. It was bright and intricate with stars, the ocean, an oak tree. I flushed handing him his, which was stick figures of the two of us stealing a bike and lopsided music symbols with random song lyrics surrounding the edges. Perfect. That’s what Issac called something I thought wouldn’t be enough.
And that night, while Liam was busy smoking weed in the bathroom, and Lisa was in the prom photo booth with her friends, Issac asked me to dance. I told myself that it was the same position as the hundreds of times we’d hugged, but Issac smelled so good, and he touched me softer, and I swear I heard his heart pounding over the music. It made mine do the same. And soon it felt like we were meant to match that way.
But while my head was on his chest, I briefly wondered if my mother had felt this kind of alignment with my father. And when the song changed, Issac didn’t move to leave me, his fingers still flitted along my dress, and I pushed him playfully, insisting he go dance with Lisa.
An hour later, I’d find the two of them kissing under the strobe lights and realize that the confusing feelings I had for him didn’t have to be confusing at all. It was normal that I wanted to be close to him. That’s how it should feel with friends.