5
June 1983
I had assumed Danny would be sitting with Evelyn's mother on graduation day, but when I looked out at the crowd, I didn't see him. I saw my parents, my little brothers, my grandparents. Hell, I saw my next-door neighbor. And I saw Evelyn's mother, sure—sitting on the outside of a row, looking bored, watching her manicure when Evelyn's name was called. There was no man with her—neither Evelyn's father, who Evelyn never talked about in the present, past, or future tense, nor Danny. Just her mother, who couldn't even be bothered to clap while her daughter graduated high school.
I clapped, though. I clapped louder than some of these families did for their kid. The people around me looked at me funny, and the families in the audience looked for the source of the sound, and the te
