“I saw a video,” she said.
My stomach dropped.
“I didn’t post it.”
“Someone did. It cuts off right after Marcus recognizes you.”
I turned to Zoe, who was across the kitchen. She found the post in seconds. It already had thousands of views.
I watched Rachel tell me to move, then saw Marcus appear. The video ended before he said that being his mother should not matter.
People were cheering him in the comments.
I wanted them to hear the part they were missing.
By evening, strangers knew my face.
Some called Marcus a hero. Others argued about whether I should have moved and waited for the airline to fix it. A few decided I must have been trying to get attention because I had stayed in my seat.
I put my phone down.
Dana found me in the kitchen with an empty mug between my hands.
“You can stop reading,” she said.
“I wanted to know what people saw.”
“They saw a short clip. You know what happened.”
“That’s the problem.”
June called again to ask if I was all right. I told her I was staying with Marcus and Dana for Zoe’s graduation. She offered to fly in, then caught herself.
“Maybe I’ll drive,” she said.
I laughed for the first time all day.
“Stay home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The person who posted the video was a passenger several rows behind me. David confirmed it wasn’t the recording he had sent. The clip had been filmed from across the aisle and stopped as Marcus approached.
Lila called to tell me the airline was aware of it. She said I had no obligation to speak publicly.
“I want them to stop saying my son saved me because I’m his mother,” I told her.
“You can say that, if you choose. You can also leave it to us to address our staff.”
“Will you?”
“Our investigation is still open. We’ll tell you what we can when it’s complete.”
I appreciated her honesty, even though it gave me little comfort.
Zoe’s graduation was the following morning. I decided I would not spend it on my phone.
I pressed my dress for the ceremony. Dana offered me a pair of earrings she thought would go well with it. Zoe practiced walking across the living room while Marcus called out her full name in a solemn voice.
She threw a cushion at him.
For an hour, we were a family preparing for a graduation.
Then Marcus stepped into the guest room while I was putting my dress away.
“Did you bring Dad’s letter?”
I froze.
“Zoe saw the envelope,” he said. “She didn’t read it. I recognized his writing when I passed your door.”
I sat on the bed.
“I found it while I was cleaning out the desk last month.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from him.”
Marcus stood by the dresser, looking at the handbag where I’d tucked it.
Samuel and Marcus had argued a week before Samuel died. Our son had accepted a position that meant moving across the country. Samuel wanted him closer while he was ill, though he wouldn’t admit how frightened he was. Marcus thought his father was asking him to give up flying.
They said things neither of them meant.
Then there was no chance to say anything else.
“I’ve wanted to hear from him every day,” Marcus said.
“I know that now.”
He sat beside me. I took out the envelope but held it a moment longer.
“I opened it,” I said. “He asked me to give it to you when you were ready. I kept waiting for the right time.”
“You can give it to me.”
I placed it in his hand.
Marcus looked at his name. His thumb moved over the ink. He didn’t open it in front of me.
“I’ll read it tonight,” he said.
I nodded. I was relieved and sorry I had waited.
At Zoe’s graduation, I sat between Dana and Marcus. When Zoe’s name was called, we all stood. She looked straight at us from the stage and smiled so wide I forgot everything else for a moment.
Afterward, she ran into my arms.
“You came.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.”
“I know. I just wanted to say it.”
We took photographs under a tree outside the auditorium. In one, Marcus stood beside me with his arm around my shoulders. In another, he and Zoe held her diploma together while Dana laughed.
My phone stayed in my handbag.
That night, after the guests left, Marcus found me on the porch. He had opened Samuel’s letter.
“He said he was scared,” Marcus told me. “He didn’t want me to stop flying. He wanted me to know he’d miss me.”
I took his hand.
“He was proud of you.”
“I wish he’d said it while I could answer.”
“So do I.”
Marcus looked out at the dark yard. “He wrote that he hoped one day I’d take you on my plane.”