I took a lonely 78-year-old Vietnam veteran to my senior prom because he’d never attended his own — when grandma saw my date, she went pale.
Walter studied me long enough that I thought he’d refuse.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
I grinned.
“Really?”
“Before you change your mind.”
Walter studied me long enough that I thought he’d refuse.
***
That evening, Mom stared at me across the kitchen counter.
“You’re taking a 78-year-old man to prom.”
“Yes.”
“And Walter is comfortable with this?”
“He said yes.”
Mom folded her arms.
“Nikki, I’m not worried about what people will think.”
“You’re taking a 78-year-old man to prom.”
“I know.”
“I’m asking whether Walter knows you aren’t treating him like a charity project.”
“He does.”
“You’re sure?”
“Mom, he’s my friend.”
She watched me for another second.
Then she nodded.
“Okay, baby.”
“Mom, he’s my friend.”
***
On prom night, Mom zipped my dress and fixed one loose strand of hair.
“You look beautiful.”
“You’re legally required to say that.”
“I’m your mother. I’m legally required to mean it.”
Outside, my older brother Ben honked twice.
Mom leaned toward the window.
“You look beautiful.”
“Benjamin! Calm down!”
“That’s his warning shot,” I said, grabbing my bag.
Ben had agreed to drive us.
When Walter came outside, even Ben stopped talking.
Walter wore a navy suit, polished shoes, and a pale blue tie.
Ben looked at me.
“That’s his warning shot.”
“He’s dressed better than I am.”
“That’s not difficult.”
Walter opened the back door.
“I heard that.”
Ben smiled.
“Good. I’m Ben.”
“Walter.”
“He’s dressed better than I am.”
I climbed in beside him.
“You look great.”
Walter adjusted his cuff.
“The staff had opinions.”
“Apparently good ones.”
As Ben pulled away, I noticed Walter wasn’t wearing any medals.
“You look great.”
