Cody: You’re so weird.
Maggie: I’m so [insert enthusiastic swear words here] proud of you. You better be proud of you, too!
Cody: I couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks, Maggie.
Maggie: I’m not crying. You’re crying!
Cody: I gotta go. Dayana and Keaton are taking me and Kevin for ice cream in a minute.
Maggie: Just you?
Cody: We might pick up a girl I know on the way.
Dean: Dinner was good. I had a nice time.
Maggie: Good??? Nice???
Dean: What’s with the punctuation abuse?
Maggie: Sorry. Also texting our graduating senior.
Dean: Me, too. I think we should get him a car.
Maggie: Excuse me? Tightwad says what?
Dean: Don’t ruin my first moment of generosity by throwing any historical Scrooginess in my face. The kid could use wheels.
Maggie: Agreed. Let’s go halvesies. Think we can find something by Saturday?
Dean: You find the car. I’ll find the giant bow.
Maggie: Deal. Dayana and Keaton are taking him for ice cream to celebrate right now.
Dean: I could go for some ice cream.
Maggie: Just you?
Dean: I might happen to know someone else who could go for dessert.
Michael: Dinner went well.
Silas: Your punctuation makes your words sound sarcastic. Went well as in neither of you choked on a chicken bone and needed the Heimlich? Or well as in “I can’t find my pants and socks”？
Michael: Maybe somewhere in the middle. Okay, maybe a little closer to the pants end of the spectrum.
Silas: Question. How long is too long for a best man speech?
Michael: Har har. How did your date go?
Silas: Maggie was impressed with my cleanliness （I tackled her before she could open the dining room door） and I can’t find my pants. I’ve decided to let you tell the electric fence pissing contest anecdote in your best man speech.
Michael: Really? I thought I’d get more laughs with the time you got trapped under Mary Beth’s bed in tenth grade while her parents decided to have the talk with her.
Silas: Hold on the reminiscing. I’m hearing rumors of ice cream.
Michael: What a coincidence. I’m hearing them, too.
Silas: Are you texting me next to Dean while he texts Maggie?
Michael: Maybe.
Silas: See you in 20.
Michael: Find your pants first.
39
Mother Nature delivered blue skies and puffy white clouds for Cody’s graduation day. The football stadium was decked out in balloons and streamers in the school’s colors of green and white. Banners from local businesses congratulated the seniors.
“Look over here,” Dean insisted, snapping his fingers at Maggie like she was a distracted toddler. They were standing on the far side of the stadium’s concession stand while the school’s faculty and administration clumped together in their caps and gowns and sunglasses, ready to enjoy a student-free summer.
A whole summer off. Maggie wondered what she would do with that.
“Enough with the pictures,” she grumbled. Dean snapped a series of shots while she batted away the tassel that hung in her face. “I can’t believe I said yes to this.”
He lowered the camera and smirked. “I can’t believe you did either.”
When the high school principal had cornered her in the aisle at Tanner’s General Store and asked her to speak at the graduation, Maggie had been too intent on finding caulk to iterate a firm no. And when the woman had showered her with praise for everything she was doing for Cody, the Old Campbell Place, and young girls in the community, Maggie felt pressured to accept.
So there she was, staring at the rows of metal chairs positioned on the football field for faculty and the future of America, wishing she had ducked into the plumbing aisle instead.
“The kids are all lined up, and the marching band is warming up,” Dayana reported. “Last hair and makeup check.”
Maggie stood still while her sister reached into her gigantic designer mom bag and produced a travel-size hairspray. She fluffed and then shellacked Maggie’s hair. “I see Silas kissed your lipstick off,” she noted, handing Maggie a small mirror and a tube of very expensive lipstick. “Try this color.”
Since it gave her something to do, Maggie carefully applied the dusky rose color.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” Dean asked, snapping a candid shot of the two women. “You speak to an audience of a million every week.”
Not in front of them though. Not directly to them. In Maggie’s mind, that was a distinct difference. The filter that allowed anonymous users to leave snarky, ignorant comments was also the same filter that cushioned her from the real-time, real-life reactions of her audience.