Chapter 2: The Speech He Never Rehearsed
For a moment, nobody moved.
A thousand faces turned toward the back of the hall.
I froze beneath their attention, my bouquet pressed against my blue dress.
Onstage, Michael looked as if he had forgotten that he was standing in front of professors, university officials, and graduating students.
He looked like the little boy who once stood beside my bed during a thunderstorm, afraid to go back to his room.
The dean leaned toward him.
"Michael, are you all right?""
Michael nodded without taking his eyes off me.
"I'm fine, Dr. Harris.""
He adjusted the microphone.
"I had a speech prepared," he continued.
"I wrote it three weeks ago. I revised it eleven times. My roommate, Ethan, listened to me practice until he threatened to move out.""
A ripple of laughter moved through the audience.
Michael smiled faintly.
"But there is something I didn't write down, because I never imagined I would need to explain it today.""
My heart began to pound.
"That woman in the back row is my mother. Her name is Laura Anderson.""
The applause began before he could continue.
He raised one hand, asking for quiet.
"Please. Let me finish.""
May you like
The hall settled.
"My mother worked at a diner for nineteen years. She served people who complained about cold coffee while memorizing my school schedule. She worked holidays
