“You sure everything’s okay?”
“Dad, I’m fine.”
“You’re nervous?”
“A little.”
I laughed.
“You gave a speech in front of three hundred people when you were thirteen.”
“This is different.”
I didn’t know how different.
WESTBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL
We drove across Bellmere toward Westbridge High School.
It was the same school I had attended years earlier.
As we passed the entrance, I remembered one particular man.
The janitor.
Quiet.
Always working.
Always around.
When I was a teenager, he used to nod at me every morning in the hallway.
I never knew much about him.
Years later, when Sophie enrolled at Westbridge High School, I realized he was still there.
Older now.
Gray hair.
Same quiet nod.
I had seen him at parent nights.
School plays.
Sports events.
He seemed to have spent his entire life in those hallways.
“Funny,” I said as I parked.
Sophie looked at me.
