Miles

Miles scanned the parking lot as the car rolled to a stop. Families tumbled out of vehicles in all directions, streaming toward the brick school building.

“Are you ready?” Claire asked. He turned to glance at his mother. She was silhouetted against the setting sun that streamed through the car window, a halo of gold light outlining her figure. He nodded silently, turning his gaze back to the gathering crowd.

He slipped from the car seat and walked quickly toward the school. He had just reached the steps when James screeched to a stop on his bicycle a few feet in front of him.

“Did you bike here?” Miles asked, slapping him playfully on the back. James shuffled his feet for a moment.

“Yeah, it’s kind of our thing. My mom and I ride bikes together a couple of evenings a week. She thought it would be fun to ride here tonight.”

James glanced over his shoulder quickly as his mother pulled to a stop next to the bike racks. Miles’ brow furrowed as he watched her swing gracefully from the seat. He guessed her to be at least ten years older than his own mother.

“I think that’s awesome,” Miles grinned. “I would have loved to ride my bike here.”

James shrugged and laughed and turned his bike toward the racks.

“Miles, wait a moment for me!” came a voice from behind him. He winced and turned to watch as his mother made her way slowly up the ramp from the parking lot. Each step was labored and slow, and she leaned heavily on the brightly colored cane in her hand. Wisps of reddish hair slipped from her ponytail and brushed her flushed cheeks. “Where is this assembly, again? It’s not too far inside, is it?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, Mom, it’s just in the gym. Come on.” Miles’ voice held an edge of impatience as he turned toward the glass doors. He held them open for Claire, tapping the toes of one foot as she limped past him.

The rush of voices confirmed Miles’ greatest fear: that the gym was already packed full of families. They covered the short distance through the hallway, and stepped into the bright, noisy assembly. Everywhere, there were people darting up and down the metal steps, waving at friends, and attempting to carry on conversations over the deafening noise of the crowd.

“Miles!” he heard his name called and scanned the room with squinted eyes. At the top of the bleachers stood James next to his mother, waving wildly down to him. “Come join us!”

Miles waved back and darted toward the steps, then suddenly stopped. He glanced back toward Claire, following her gaze as it traveled up into the top section of seats. She, too, had seen James. She bit her lip.

“Mom, I—” Miles began. She held up a hand.

“You can go up, Miles. Go on up, sit with your friend,” she smiled encouragingly. “Really. I’m sorry that I can’t join you, though. I’m going to have to stick to the lower levels.”

Miles glanced between James and Claire. He wanted so much to join his friend and take in the awards ceremony with him. But the thought of his mother sitting all alone nearly made him cry. He couldn’t leave her. He took a deep breath, shrugged up at James, and motioned toward Claire. James seemed to nod his understanding.

“Where to, Mom?” he asked, trying to sound casual as he turned back to his mother. She smiled and gave his arm a small squeeze.

“Somewhere close to the ground, I’m afraid. How about this open spot in the front row?”

Miles gulped, his eyes traveling again over the swarms of people behind them. The front row. Front and center.

“Sure, Mom. Whatever you need to do.”

Claire made her way slowly to the open seats, sitting down heavily on the bench. Her legs throbbed and her heart raced in time with her breathing as she struggled to catch her breath. Miles slid onto the bench next to her and wriggled out of his sweatshirt. It had been cool and crisp outside, but the full room felt stifling. Claire turned to wave to a friend a few rows behind them and smiled at Sarah’s mother seated next to them. Then she bent forward and laid the cane on the floor at her feet.

Miles sat stiffly in the front row. He watched as Sarah glanced quickly at the cane, looking away before she thought he had noticed. He could feel the intensity of a hundred eyes staring down at them from the full stadium seats behind him. He turned to cast a quick glance at James and his mother, perched far above the heat and the front row.

He gathered up his sweatshirt and leaned forward. Working quickly and quietly, he stretched the jacket over the length of his mother’s cane and pushed it back as far as he could against the riser. He sat up and fixed his gaze on the front of the gym, not daring to look at Claire.

Several moments passed in silence, as Miles willed his eyes to focus on the empty space on the gym floor that would soon be occupied by the principal. Claire shifted quietly beside him. He felt her warm hand on his shoulder, just briefly. Still, he could not meet her eyes.

The school song began to play overhead, and the hum of the crowd quieted. Miles glanced quickly at Claire. She met his eyes and held his gaze for just a moment. He had expected to see a pained look, or anger. Instead, she smiled. She nodded, as though to say she understood completely. She squeezed his shoulder once more and turned her gaze toward the front of the room.

Miles took a deep breath. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even hurt that he had hidden her cane. Did she know how embarrassed he was? He looked at her legs, shaking from the exertion of walking. He thought of James and his mother. Just last year, Miles and Claire had enjoyed riding bikes together too. Did she miss those days? Was she ever frustrated? Was she embarrassed by the cane too?

There was something in her look, in the softness of her eyes that told him she felt the same way. This wasn’t what she wanted, either. This was all new and hard and uncomfortable for her, just as it was for him. How must it have felt to her to walk into a crowded room leaning on that cane?

Miles bent over and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. He hoped no one had noticed, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Then he bent down quietly and picked up his sweatshirt, bunching it in his lap. He lifted the cane and laid it out silently on the open bench beside him. Right there, in the open. On the front row seat of the crowded room.

He turned to look at Claire. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she smiled. Then they both turned to the front of the room as the principal stepped up to the microphone to welcome the crowd.