“There’s something else I need to explain.”
She turned toward Felix’s photograph.
“My brother hated when people felt sorry for him.”
She smiled faintly.
“He got so annoyed when people talked to me instead of him, like being sick meant he couldn’t answer questions.”
A few students smiled.
“He wanted people to remember he was funny. That he loved school. That he was terrible at basketball but kept playing anyway.”
Her smile faded.
“Before he died, he asked me not to put his picture somewhere just to make people feel sorry for him.”
I remembered that conversation.
Felix had been sitting in bed after an exhausting afternoon.
Emma was helping him with an assignment.
He suddenly asked what she’d do if he didn’t make it to graduation.
She told him to stop talking like that.
He insisted.
“Just don’t turn me into some sad picture everybody stares at. Make sure they remember I was actually part of the class.”
Emma had promised.
I hadn’t understood how heavily that promise weighed on her.
“I thought about what he said for a long time,” Emma continued.
“And I know this looks ridiculous.”
She glanced at the cutout.
“Honestly, Felix probably would’ve made fun of it himself.”
Gentle laughter passed through the room.
“But when the school wouldn’t let me include even a small picture, I didn’t know what else to do.”
She straightened the gown.
“So I made him big enough that nobody could overlook him.”
I covered my mouth.
Emma looked toward me.
“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the letter.”
I shook my head.
She faced William again.
“I wasn’t planning a speech. I hoped you’d let me carry him across the stage.”
“Then why bring the letter?” he asked.
“Because I wanted to be ready if you stopped me again.”
She swallowed.
“And because I needed to know whether your promise still meant anything.”
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Then William approached the microphone.
“Emma, I owe you an apology.”
His voice carried through the gym.
“I remember Felix. I remember his teachers speaking highly of him. And I remember writing that letter.”
He glanced at the cutout.
“When you contacted me about graduation, I treated your requests like scheduling problems. I didn’t consider what I’d promised your brother.”
Emma listened.
“I was wrong to dismiss you. And especially wrong to embarrass you today.”
He breathed deeply.
“I’m sorry.”
Emma looked down at Felix’s photograph.
William stepped aside.
“If you’d still like to walk with your brother, you may.”
For a moment, Emma couldn’t move.
Then she nodded.
“Thank you.”
She adjusted Felix’s cap and lifted the cutout.
As she approached the stage, a boy in the second row stood.
I vaguely recognized him from Felix’s school years.
