“I kept thinking about what Noah might need from you,” she continued. “I never stopped to notice all that he gives you.”
And suddenly, I began to see our friendship in a completely different way.
Ice cream after my driving test.
The dinosaur drawing.
Lunches after Dad left.
The porch after my first heartbreak.
Noah had never been a responsibility I carried.
We support each other.
“What is your condition?” I asked.
Mom smiled through her tears.
“Don’t go to the prom because six-year-old Chrissy made a promise.”
He squeezed my hands.
“See why Christina, eighteen years old, chooses him.”
I laughed softly.
“Mom, that’s why I’m going.”
“Now I know.”
PART 3
When Mom and I went back downstairs, Noah stared at us.
“You’ve taken a long time.”
Mom walked straight towards him.
“Noah, can I have the first dance?”
Her eyebrows suddenly arched.
“Mrs. Jane, this isn’t prom.”
I burst out laughing.
Mom put on music anyway.
For thirty awkward seconds, Noah tried to guide her as she took steps in the wrong direction over and over again.
Finally, she sighed.
“Mrs. Jane, Chrissy dances better.”
“That’s why she’s your date.”
Then Mom’s expression softened.
“Thank you for staying.”
Noah seemed confused, as if she had thanked him for breathing.
“She’s staying too,” he said.
Mom closed her eyes.
Those three words seemed to answer a question he had been asking himself for six years.
That same night, Noah and I arrived at the prom.
When the first slow song started, he held out his hand.
“Chrissy.”
“Yeah?”
“You owe me one.”
“Twelve years old?”
“Twelve years.”
In five seconds, he stepped directly on my shoe.
“You dance terribly.”
