People’s heads turned as I walked across the gravel driveway. In contrast to the crowd’s low talk, my heels clicked steadily, producing a martial rhythm. People stared at the silver stars on my shoulders, the colorful grid of ribbons covering my heart, and the combat patch that told stories most of these people would never understand.
A few older guys nodded politely, acknowledging the status if not the person. Their husbands seemed curious, then doubtful, as if they were trying to find me.
The first person to notice me was my mother, Patrice. She stood near the door in a lovely lavender dress with pearls at her throat. For a moment, her face was expressionless, as if a film had been put on hold. The polite hostess removed her mask, revealing a hint of genuine annoyance. Then she recovered, smiled the polite little smile she gives caterers and strangers, and came forward to kiss me on both cheeks.
“Danielle,” she said in a carefree, jovial tone. “You succeeded.”
No hug. No, not “I missed you.” Just acknowledgment of my actual existence.
“Mother.” I nodded while keeping my hands clasped behind my back. “You look fantastic.”
“And you…” She wrinkled her nose a little and gestured vaguely at my attire. “You definitely made the decision to speak up. I guess a dress wasn’t an option?”
“This is my dress uniform.” I replied calmly, “It seemed fitting.”
She moaned and adjusted her skirt. Today is Lauren’s day. “Just try not to frighten the visitors.” No scenes are of interest to us.
Please behave properly. The sound of her note echoed between us.
I said, “Mother, I’m just here to watch.”
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