"Friends, family, staff and board members, we are gathered here today to celebrate the graduation of the class of 1990."

It was Friday, June 8. The dark fabric of the gown made my body hotter than it should have been, but the sweat on my forehead had cooled down. My lips felt dry and I knew I wore the face of a dead person. Tracy handed me a bottle of water; I grabbed it without ever taking a sip from it.

"Fours years ago, we entered those hallway doors with our backpacks that were bigger than our hopes and dreams, some, even, with their overnight bags and moving boxes. For those who have come from afar, Midland not only became their high school, but also their residency. But I am sure I can speak for all of us when I say that Midland has become a home to us all."

I looked to my left. Through troubled vision, I saw my friend's concentrated profile, then Clark's. Lionel, beside him, tried to catch my gaze, but I looked past him, toward the road, where I hoped to find something resembling hope. A sign of life, a signal of movement, something. At the same time, I felt the oppressive angst that when I got home and turned on the TV, the news of Michael Jackson's untimely death would greet me.

"In only a four short years, we've been taught how to...speak Spanish, do algebra, figure out history and, of course, how to cheat."

People laughed. A breath escaped between my lips; I felt a weight on my chest. I tickled my nose and felt damp hair sticking to my face.

"Most of us are planning on continuing our education and going to college, no doubt the above mentioned skills will all come in handy. You know-we've always heard, 'oh, you can't pull this in college', but Mrs. Dubois, I think we will all graduate cum laude in college if they're as easy on us as you were during exams."

Laughter, again. I thought of Michael reaching for his chest. I thought of his embrace, I thought of Lionel aggressively scrubbing the passenger seat. Tracy appraised me curiously, and when she put her hand on my knee I only realized that my leg was shaking neurotically.

"School is a learning experience, if you didn't know that already. But the things we've been taught here are much more than the basics of the courses we sat through. At Midland school, we have been taught how to help. We've been taught how to seek out lonely people. We've been taught how to care - taught how to remain standing in the face of adversity."

I took a deep breath and felt my eyes begin to fill with random tears. I wouldn't let them fall, but the feeling of being overwhelmed with an unknown sadness seemed to swallow me up like the fish had swallowed Jonah.

"But mostly, we have been taught how to love. How to love our teachers. How to love our fellow students. Our friends, our family. Our neighbors."

I looked at the road again. And I saw it. I saw the black Rolls Royce glide by, through the vegetation, I saw the car drive into the yard, the gates open, the black monster disappearing after the hillside, but carrying with it an unmistakable signal of hope. I can't explain what feeling took hold of me, but it is undeniably present, it forces you to flee from yourself to that other thing, where you actually belong. No shaking of heaven and earth can stop you at that moment from moving you to do what you must do, as if it were determined centuries ago and the survival of the world depends on this single act. It overpowered, even frightened me, this feeling, but at the same time I was so besides myself that I was no longer aware of anything.

The speech had ended, people had stood up. The applauding sounded terribly deafening, as if it would never stop penetrating my being. Confused, I looked around me, as if looking for a piece of evidence of what I had just seen: He's alive, God damn it, he's alive, like Jesus was alive after being dead for three days in the grave. I put my diploma on the chair behind me.

"I have to go."

Perplexed, Tracy held out an arm to stop me, but I was gone. I walked through the now chaotic crowd - young people looking for their parents, looking for friends to share their joy. In passing, I saw my family, my parents, still smiling as I passed them as if in a feverish dream. I saw their looks distorted, when it was clear that I would not greet them, that my purpose lay elsewhere. I began to run, afraid someone would stop me, afraid I would be stopped from doing what I needed to do now. In the chaos of things no one was paying attention, the panic that could no doubt be read off my face was only one in the canvas of a crowd. When I reached the end of the field, at the transition from the grounds to the driveway, I was indeed stopped. A tug on my arm. It was Lionel, closer than he had been in all this time.

"Bethel," he sighed.

I thought he would express his regret. God knows, in that moment, I would have forgiven him. I felt a hot wave of emotional goodness rise up inside me before he uttered his words seemed as if I were being stirred by the Holy Spirit.

"Please sign my yearbook?"

My face contorted. Hot tears now flowed down my face, rich as streams of water. I tuffed in his face, a thick blob of mucus on both his eyes, and before he realized what had happened I ran on. I took the gown and cap and threw them off me, as if throwing off a bag of sin. Late relatives looked at me in surprise, me in my elation, running down the street like a rabid dog. I crossed it, peace returned, the peace that reminded me of the beginning of the school year, or even earlier. When I had cycled up in the heat of mid-summer and never could have imagined the way the following year would change me. How he would change me. How Lionel would change.

The gates opened, though now I can't remember who it was that stood by it. While waiting for them to open only slightly, I pulled up the straps of a summer dress. I was as hot as I'd been the first time I came here, but instead of the heat of the summer, it was an anxious knit in my stomach slowly spreading its claws that made my skin perspire. Upon being slightly ajar, I slid through, and kept running. The sight of Neverland a little bit further in the distance made my stomach drop, although not in a bad way. I almost physically felt the sensation of my heart slowing down. The gates had been closed behind me and the outside world seemed to be seven stories down on earth and I was here — safe, yes, I felt safe. And I felt the resolute realisation that this safeness was only permissible here.

The house was quiet, the place around it, too. Usually the place was bustling with children and now it seemed to quiet down, like a theme park getting ready for the high season. The Rolls Royce still stood before the house and only now drove away. A couple of security men were speaking of this and that and after I had entered through the second gates, I slowly made my way around them. Sam noticed me.

"Hey girl! Isn't your graduation today?"

His face changed upon noticing my state.

"Girl, what happened!"

He stepped toward me, almost wanting to place a hand on my head to check my temper. Around him, the guys checked me out, frowning, wondering what this random girl was doing here. I stepped back.

"No, I'm sorry. It's nothing. I just need to, eh—
can I go in?"

"Eh, yeah. Yeah, you can. Listen Bethel, do I need to call someone?

I shook my head, fearing my voice would give out. I went inside, then, leaving behind a wearied group of disinterested men who didn't care for enough for this disturbance to nurture it. Inside the house the air became gently cool, and even more quiet too. I immediately sensed he was there. Bags and suitcases reclined in the hall, the sound of the door falling closed behind me shook the silence almost visually. I took slow steps towards the living room area.

He was there. He stood there like I saw him the first time I'd met him. A small man by the window, his hand by his mouth as if pondering something over. I felt I had nothing to say. I felt the very nature of language slipping through my mind, my hands. A heap of sand, a box of water. I had nothing to say, and as I walked over, I felt in his glance toward me he had nothing to say either. He'd gone to the hospital and he hadn't died. I'd gone to prom and I hadn't died. But more so, he had survived the world and he was still here, he was here now, undeniably physically present with the sound of his curls brushing against the cotton of his blouse, his wave of mint and perfume coming toward me, coveting me. And he realised it. Who, at this moment, stood next to him, without the unbearable nothingness of language. He smiled then, shook his head slightly and bit his lip. His chest heaved a little, as if there was a particular something in his mind that kept crossing it. Turning back toward me his face fell serious, raising hand to take hold of my cheek, and, reaching further, his fingers entered my curls, so that I could not help coming closer.

"You," he breathed, "you—".

I felt this heavy word close against my lips, and it weighed down between us, until he kissed me. Every weight was dissolved.

—
OMG it finally happened. Waited so long to write this!