I walked all the way to the rear of the auditorium
A woman beside me with a toddler on her hip glanced over.
“Aunt?” she asked.
“Mother,” I said. “My only child.”
“Oh,” she said. “Mom should be up front.”
I tried to smile. It did not quite work.
The lights began to dim.
“Mom should be up front.”
The principal stepped to the podium and tapped the microphone.
Somewhere near the front, I could see the back of Vanessa’s head, perfectly blow-dried, tilted toward Mark.
I lifted my chin.
I had not made a scene or raised my voice. I had not given anyone a story to tell at dinner about Ethan’s difficult mother.
I had only lost my seat. Again.
