He gestured gently toward me.
“The smoke was thick. I couldn’t see the stairs. But I found her crib, picked her up, and carried her out.”
His voice softened.
“That night, I promised I’d raise her the best I could.”
He looked around the gym slowly.
“I wasn’t young. I didn’t always know what I was doing. But I showed up every day.”
Some of the teachers were openly crying now.
Grandpa smiled faintly.
“We practiced dancing in the kitchen when she was little. I told her I’d be the most handsome date at her prom someday.”
He tapped the side of his wheelchair lightly.
“Life changed a few years ago. But promises shouldn’t.”
Then he turned toward me.
“And tonight,” he said warmly, “I’m still the luckiest date in the room.”
For a moment, no one moved.
Then the entire gym erupted in applause.
People stood.
Some students cheered.
A few of Amber’s own friends looked uncomfortable and slowly stepped away from her.
Amber stood frozen, her face pale and embarrassed.
One of the teachers walked over and squeezed my shoulder.
“You should be very proud,” she whispered.
I was.
But mostly, I was overwhelmed.
I walked up beside Grandpa and hugged him carefully around the shoulders.
