o one was laughing with her anymore.
No one was on her side.
My mother was staring at the tablecloth.
Claire looked ready to explode.
Her new husband had one hand on her shoulder, probably keeping her from crossing the room and doing something that would ruin the wedding photographs.
Donna lowered the bouquet.
“I was joking.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Mia said it calmly.
That hurt Donna more than shouting would have.
My daughter looked down at her legs.
Then she touched the wheel of her chair.
“For a long time, I thought this chair meant I wasn’t like everybody else anymore.”
The room became so quiet that the soft instrumental music from the DJ’s equipment suddenly seemed too loud.
Mia continued.
“After the accident, I thought people would look at me and only see what I couldn’t do.”
My throat closed.
Those were thoughts she had never fully shared with me.
