Then Sonia yelled, “Let’s dance!” And people laughed.

Mom was still holding my hand, which I was happy about because I felt wobbly on the chair in my new sandals. And it made me feel less scared about talking. Now she squeezed my fingers—once, twice, three times. And I squeezed back—once, twice. And then she squeezed my hand really hard and reached her arms out to me. I turned and jumped, and she caught me.

Someone turned on the music, and Dad and Jesse slow-danced in a tiny space we made in the middle of all of us.

When the music changed, we danced. Everybody. Even Mom.

We danced for a long time. I danced with Mom, with Jesse, with Dad, and with Angus, who didn’t want to dance at first, but then once he got started, danced every song. I danced with Lizette and Sonia together, and everyone made a ring around us for a minute. I didn’t dance with Uncle Frank and Aunt Ess, but I saw them dancing together.

Sheila caught my hand between songs. As soon as I looked at her, she pulled me in for a hug. The next thing I knew, I was crying into her dress. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have invited him!”

When the music started again, she swayed with me until I stopped crying. Then she held me away from her and said, “It wasn’t a perfect wedding. But I don’t think Jesse has ever felt more loved than he does today. That’s what matters. Do you understand?”

I nodded, and she said, “Let’s dance, Captain.”

—

We ate dinner, and then we got up and danced again. Uncle Frank left the restaurant carrying his wineglass and came back with ten boxes of ice cream sandwiches. Dad and Jesse held a big knife together and cut one of them in half like it was a cake. Everyone cheered and the photographer took pictures. And then we danced some more.

What I remember is that some songs were slow and some were fast, and every time one ended, I closed my eyes and thought, “One more. Please, one more.” And when the next song started, one of those joy balloons blew up inside me.

And then finally there were no more songs, and people got their purses and jackets from the coat room, but most of them didn’t leave. They stood holding their things and talking, which was fine with me. Some people were helping, bringing glasses into the kitchen or dragging big garbage bags to the sidewalk. I saw Mom at the garden door, looking out into the dark. Dad walked over and they stood together, talking. I watched them until Mom felt my eyes on her back. She can do that. She turned around and waved at me to come.