A call rises from the corner: Speech! Speech! The psychologist looks around, cursing the sudden bout of softheartedness that brought him here, into this crowded, teeming hall; to stand among the tables piled up with food; to sweat under these bright chandeliers, amid the heavy red curtains; to walk into this storm of sentiment, of shouted conversations and congratulations; to witness the mother’s tears and the father’s sweat; to look over these decked-out guests whose smiles seem like they were pasted to their faces forcefully and forgotten there; to hear the whines and cries of the troubled child, the hungry child, the tired child, the terrified child; to see Jennifer’s wedding gown, a lavish cathedral within which she is all but lost; to hear her earnest words float over to cross the endless divide to her husband, who stands by her all packed into his tailored suit and looks at once older and younger than he is. The psychologist stares into the humming space and suddenly he’s floating as if in a dream, and the sounds around him join and weave into a soft comforting quilt.

Speech! Speech! He gathers himself and focuses his gaze with some effort. He notices Eric and the pink-haired girl bobbing in the corner, flushed with childish joy, their fingers poking in the air in his direction. Beside them, the white teeth girls clap and yelp. He sips urgently from his wineglass and looks around, confused. He catches Jennifer’s eyes from her seat at the front table. She smiles and motions for him to come up. He senses himself, to his surprise, walking toward the small stage. He takes the microphone in his hand. Squeaks and screams emanate from the sound system. His lips are dry and his head spins. All around a sound emerges, chimes, clinks of silverware on glass; fairy bells ringing. The crowd quiets down.

For those of you who don’t know me, which is all of you, he says, I was Jennifer’s teacher this year. I don’t have to tell you what grade she received.

A wave of knowing laughter swishes across the room like a gust of wind, cooling the psychologist’s flushed face.