“We thought you’d realize how hard it was and stop after a semester,” Ryan admitted.
“And when I didn’t?”
David looked away.
“Then we were embarrassed.”
“For me?”
“For ourselves.”
Ryan rubbed his neck.
“We told you the whole thing was ridiculous. Every semester you kept going proved us wrong.”
“So, rather than admit it, you stayed away.”
“Yes.”
Another car pulled up outside.
Then another.
I looked through the window.
“Who is here?”
Ryan gave me a nervous smile.
“Your classmates.”
“What?”
“And some professors,” David added.
I turned toward them.
“How would you know my classmates?”
Ryan opened one of the boxes and pulled out several photographs.
The first showed me studying in the university library.
Another showed me outside a lecture hall.
A third showed me laughing with classmates after an exam.
“Where did you get these?”
“We contacted people from your program,” Ryan said.
“When?”
“Weeks ago.”
David pointed toward the living room.
“The tables are for food. The chairs are for guests. The boxes are decorations.”
I looked around.
The pieces suddenly fit.
“You planned a graduation party?”
They both nodded.
I should have been happy.
Instead, years of silence pressed against my chest.
“You could have called.”
“We should have,” David said.
“You could have come to one birthday.”
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