And somewhere behind the prayer, a quieter thought I refused to name kept asking why.
***
The gymnasium had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. I stood near the back wall, clutching my purse. Rosie waited near the dance floor in her beautiful dress, her silver shoes catching the light every time she moved.
Then Steven walked toward her. The whole room seemed to slow down.
For a fleeting moment, I felt hopeful.
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He stopped in front of my daughter and bowed, one hand pressed neatly to his chest.
“May I have this dance?”
Rosie’s mouth bloomed into the widest smile I had ever seen on her face.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, you may.”
Steven took her hand like it was made of glass. They moved to the center of the floor, and the DJ slid into something slow and sweet.
I watched them turn. One-two-three, turn. Just like she had practiced in the kitchen.
