Rachel stepped out beside me.
“Everyone’s waiting,” she said.
“Let them wait a minute.”
She smiled. “Still dramatic in your own minimalist way.”
“I learned from the best.”
“You absolutely did not.”
We stood there a moment.
Then she looked at me and said, “You know, for someone who never cared what people thought, you’ve spent an impressive amount of time proving a point.”
I considered that.
“Maybe I didn’t need to prove it to them,” I said. “Maybe I needed to prove it to the part of me that still believed they were right.”
Rachel clinked her glass gently against mine. “That part seems quieter these days.”
“It is.”
Down below, music drifted up. Laughter. Doors opening and closing. The soft machinery of a life finally populated by people who did not require me to become smaller to stay.
