A Different Blue(75)

end you will be glad you didn't miss your own graduation.”

I looked over at my cap and gown wistfully. Wilson must have seen my hesitation and pressed me

further. “Come on. You like making entrances, remember?”

I smiled a little, but the smile fell as I considered the likelihood that I wouldn't make it

through the ceremony without needing to make another run for the commode.

“I can't do it.”

“Sure you can,” Wilson picked up my cap and gown and held them out to me, an encouraging look

on his face. He reminded me of a dog begging for a walk around the block, his big, heavily-

lashed eyes pleading, his mouth turned up the slightest bit in supplication.

“I can't do it,” I repeated more forcefully.

“You need to,” Wilson said just as forcefully. “I get that you're feeling dicky –”

“I'm not dicky, whatever that means! I'm pregnant!” I whispered, interrupting him. Wilson's

face went slack, as if I'd just told him I was having an affair with Prince William. The lump

was back, and I felt a stinging in my eyes that caused me to blink rapidly and grit my teeth.

“I see,” Wilson said softly, and his hands fell to his sides, my cap and gown still held in

his hand. A strange expression stole across his features, as if he was putting everything

together, and his jaw clenched as his gaze stayed locked on my face. I wanted to look away, but

pride kept my stare steady and belligerent.

I took the cap and gown from him and turned away, feeling suddenly very shy in my short Daisy

Dukes and my flimsy t-shirt, as if my skimpy choice of clothing underscored my humiliating

confession. I suddenly despised myself and wanted nothing more than to get away from Darcy

Wilson – the one teacher, the one person, who seemed to give a damn about me. He had become a

friend, and I realized in that moment that I had probably disappointed him. I started to walk

away. His voice was insistent behind me.

“I didn't go to my father's funeral.”

I turned, confused. “Wh-what?”

“I didn't go to my father's funeral.” He walked toward me until he stood directly in front of

me.

“Why?”

Wilson shrugged and shook his head. “I thought I was responsible for his death. The night he

died we had a huge fight and I stormed out. I didn't want to go to medical school; he thought I

was being a fool. It was the only time I had ever fought like that with my father. Later that

night, he had a massive heart attack in his car in the hospital parking lot. He had been paged

but never made it through the hospital doors. They might have saved him if he had.

“Naturally, I blamed myself for the heart attack. I was devastated and guilty . . . so I didn't

go.” Wilson stopped talking and looked down at his hands as if they held answers that he had

yet to find. “My mother begged and pleaded. She told me I would regret not going for the rest

of my life.” He looked up at me. “She was right.”

I looked down at my own hands, knowing exactly what he was trying to say.

“Some moments you don't get back, Blue. You don't want to spend a lifetime wondering about

those moments you didn't seize, about the things you should have done but were too scared to do.

”

[page]“It's just a stupid ceremony,” I protested.