Chapter 09
in spite of you
Ethan
“Is it okay for you to take a few more photos?” Mom asks.
Her voice has that gentle edge to it, and I can feel her watching me while I keep my eyes fixed on the reception ahead.
The ceremony ended barely an hour ago, and everyone has spilled into the outdoor area.
White tents and catering stations are set up across the lawn, while staff work their way through the crowd offering non-alcoholic drinks on silver trays.
“Of course, Mom,” I say, glancing down at her. She looks so small standing next to me today.
She stops walking, forcing me to turn and look at her.
“You know what I’m really asking, Ethan.”
I let out a breath and drag a hand through my hair, the cap feeling heavy for the first time all day. There’s no point in lying to her; she always sees right through me.
“I made a deal with Alicia,” I admit.
She gives me a small smile. “I know. I heard you two talking when I went to get a glass of water. And I also know that if any part of you truly didn’t want Colin here, you would’ve said no… no matter how much Alicia wanted it.”
I stop for a second, looking away toward the rows of empty seats. “Mom, it’s—”
“Complicated?” she finishes for me.
I just nod. That’s the only word that fits the mess in my head.
“I know, honey. And that’s completely normal,” reaching out to touch my arm. “You don’t have to feel just one way, or have everything sorted out, about what’s going on in your mind or your heart.”
I nod again, the tension in my shoulders giving way.
“What really matters is that you and Alicia are here,” I tell her, trying to shift the focus back to where it belongs. “Oh—and Uncle Mark too. Where is he? I want him in our pictures.”
Mom lets out a light laugh and tells me he’s on his way, just wrapping up a conversation with an old friend.
When we reach the red-carpet area, we wait our turn while other families take their photos.
Unable to avoid it any longer, I turn and watch Alicia talking to him.
The first thing that hits me is how... strange they look together.
Alicia from a year ago would’ve been glued to his side, hanging off his arm, resting her head against his chest, smiling at him like he held every answer in the world.
But I get it. I get why she tries. Why she keeps that tiny spark of hope tucked away somewhere inside her. Why she reaches for a connection they once had, even when it hurts.
I used to want that too.
I was always closer to Mom—that’s never been a secret—but there was a time when I went to both of them the same way. Because back then, I really believed they were two pillars holding the same house up. I believed they’d both always be there for me.
Until he wasn’t. Until he stopped showing up. Stopped caring.
I dreamed about today. I imagined all of us standing here—laughing, celebrating—the cheesy family moment people post online to pretend their whole life looks like that. He used to joke that I’d be Valedictorian. And he didn’t say it casually; he said it like he meant it.
The day arrived. And I really am. But he’s not the same person anymore. Not to me. And I’m not the same either.
Having him here feels like feeding a fantasy of something that doesn’t exist anymore. It doesn’t make sense to hold on... not after everything.
But Mom’s right. She always is. If I didn’t want him here, he wouldn’t be. I would’ve just said no to Alicia and explained it to her. She might be spoiled, she might be dramatic, but she would’ve understood. We’ve always understood each other.
Maybe that’s why she really did it: she gave me an excuse to have something I dreamed about for years but felt like I shouldn’t want anymore. A way to punish him and punish myself in one clean blow.
I hate this part of me... the part that wanted him here today. The part that belongs to the little boy he used to teach how to ride a bike, how to swim, how to do math in my head “so my brain wouldn’t get lazy.” That part of me is stupid. Confused.
The photographer Mom hired calls us over as soon as there’s enough space on the red carpet. She positions us quickly, adjusting our places according to the lights and the banner behind us.
We finish the first set and I ask for a few more with Mom and Alicia. When we’re done, the photographer glances between us and asks, “Do you want to take a few with your dad as well?
I look at him standing in front of us, beside Uncle Mark. He opens his mouth, already shaking his head. “That won’t be necessary, we—”
“Of course,” I cut in. “We can take a few.”
His shoulders drop, and something like relief crosses his face. He steps closer, and I raise a hand toward the photographer. “One second, please,” I say.
She nods and waits.
“Son, I—”
“Do you remember,” I cut in, my voice cold, “when you used to say this day would come? That it would be me up there, speaking for my entire class... just like you did when it was your turn?”
He swallows hard. “Y-Yes,” he says, forcing a strained smile.
“Last year, I started thinking about that even more. If I kept my grades up, it was practically a certainty. But even then—even before any of us knew what you were doing—I didn’t know what I’d ever thank you for in my speech.
Not for the dinners you skipped. Not for the trips you never took with us.
Or for the moments you showed up late... or didn’t show up at all.”
I draw in a deep breath.
“When I said yes to Alicia and let her invite you today, it was because some stupid part of me insisted on wanting you here. The part that imagined this day for years.”
I hesitate, but I don’t look away.
“The thing about dreams is that they end the moment you wake up. And the man I wanted you to be—for me, for our family—is nothing more than a ghost I made up.”
He blinks hard and looks away, his mouth tightening.
Your pain doesn’t outweigh mine, dear father. It isn’t more important. It isn’t more valid.
“So yes,” I continue in a level voice, “we’re going to take these photos. And when Mom sends them to you, when you’re holding them in your hands, I want you to remember the speech I gave today. And what I just told you now.”
I let the words sink in.
“When you look at my smile in those photos, I want you to understand something,” I say, my tone firm. “I’m smiling because I got here in spite of you... not because of you. And I’ll be smiling at the two people I love most in this world.”
He swallows hard and looks at me again, eyes glassy. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for everything, Ethan.”
I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t rush to fill the gap. I don’t apologize for any of it. His remorse isn’t mine to soothe.
I straighten my shoulders and step into place for the photo, then glance toward where the three of them are standing. Mom and Alicia both have the same look on their faces—watching us like they’re waiting for something to break.
I give them a smile. Alicia returns it immediately. Mom doesn’t. She knows me too well. Her eyes stay locked on mine, searching, worried.
I turn back to the photographer and tell her we’re ready. Then I shift my gaze to him.
“You can smile too, Dad,” I say evenly. “Your son graduated today at the top of his class; that’s enough pride for anyone to brag about. So smile. Show Alicia she isn’t wrong for not giving up on you.”
For a moment, he has a faraway look on his face. A look that twists something in my chest. I ignore it.
He’s the one who chose this. He’s the one who didn’t choose us.
Some things hurt. Some things scar. And some things you simply don’t get back.
Mom unlocks the front door and we all file in.
“Not going to any parties tonight?” Uncle Mark asks, giving me a friendly slap between the shoulder blades.
I shake my head. “Nope. None I felt like going to.”
Dalila’s parents are throwing a party for her tomorrow, though.
.. and that one I’m definitely going to.
I’m not entirely sure what’s going on between us, but we kissed last Wednesday.
A real kiss. And then we kissed again every day we saw each other after that.
I think I’m starting to really like her.
Just thinking about it makes me smile.
When I look up, Uncle Mark is staring at me.
“That smile?” he says, pointing at my face. “I know that smile. It only means one thing. Who’s the girl?” Then he lifts an eyebrow. “Or the boy?”
I laugh. “Just girls for now, Uncle Mark. But if that ever changes, you’ll be the first to know.”
He bursts out laughing, and I do too.
I flop onto the couch and rest my head on Alicia’s lap. She complains, obviously, but her fingers are in my hair two seconds later, scratching lightly.
Mom comes back into the living room with a tray in her hands. “What are we laughing about?”
“That speech...” Uncle Mark says, pointing at me again with a proud grin. “Your son has the same way with words his mom does. That was one hell of a speech, Ethan.”
Mom shoots us a suspicious look, but sets down the tray with wine, juices, and leftover quiches.
I get up, reaching for a piece. Whatever I ate at the reception barely counted as food, and I’d been starving the entire car ride home.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say around a bite.
Mom hands Uncle Mark a glass of wine and pours another for herself. He takes a sip and lets out a dramatic sigh.
“Finally, a drink for adults.”
Alicia and I laugh, and when I look up, Mom is watching me with that emotional look I know too well.
“Mark’s right,” she says. “Your speech was beautiful and incredibly moving. I’m sure you inspired a lot of your classmates today.” Then, in a teasing tone, “And thank you for making me cry and almost ruin my makeup.”
I wipe my mouth on a napkin, walk over to where she’s sitting and drop onto the arm beside her, pulling her close.
“I wouldn’t be half the person I am today without you, Mom,” I murmur, hugging her tighter. “Thank you for being who you are.”