The sleeves were puffed and ridiculous. Half the beadwork on the bodice was missing, and the hem looked like it had survived a small war.
« What is this? » I asked.
« My prom dress, » Grandma whispered.
Mom laughed a little through tired eyes. « She made me wear it once when I was 12 and thought I was going to a school dance. »
Grandma ignored her and looked at me. « You should wear it. »
I gave my mom a look that clearly said, « Help me here, » and she just smiled in that helpless way people do when they know they can’t win.
Grandma’s thin hand reached for mine. « Please, Linda. »
That was the thing about people who are dying. Sometimes one little request carries the weight of a whole lifetime.
So I nodded. « Okay. »
Her eyes lit up. For one second, she did not look sick at all.
