“Maybe not, but you’d think any real spouse would want to be there,” Elizabeth Ann Margaret answered. “Or at least put in an appearance at the party he really put way more effort into than he should have.”

“He’s not one for parties,” I answered, even though I realized I was playing right into the narrative Elizabeth Ann Margaret was trying to sell that I’d made him up.

“Is that on account of him being deaf?” Asher asked, coming over to join us with a plate piled high with vegetables from the Costco tray.

“I saw you two speaking in sign language when he picked you up the other day,” he said. He was technically addressing me. But he was looking straight at Elizabeth Ann Margaret to let her know that someone had seen Victor again after that one classroom kiss.

But, of course, Elizabeth Ann Margaret didn’t even have the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

“So he’s deaf?” Elizabeth Ann Margaret asked, whispering the word “deaf” as if it was some kind of scandal.

“No,” I answered. Then before she or Asher could ask me any more questions, I called out to everyone else that we should probably get on with the rest of the presentations.

A few more people in the second half, then it was time for me to close out the show.

We all watched as my father’s ancestors go from apes to humans in the cradle of civilization before spreading out across the continent of Africa. After that, my mother’s ancestors in Korea transform from a scattering of Neolithic clans into a series of dynastic societies. Meanwhile, ships with slaves aboard sail across oceans to deliver my father’s ancestors into slavery. And then both my mother’s and father’s birth countries take turns waging bloody civil wars.

The montage of Korean and American history ends with a black American soldier spotting a young Korean woman working with her parents behind a farmstand.

Their eyes connect…and they both smile.

And that was where the animation ended.

A hush fell over the room after the lights were brought up. I wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. But then, Harlow wiped tears from her eyes and led the class in clapping.

It was a little embarrassing to tell the truth. I wasn’t used to so much attention. My face heated, and I had to raise my eyes to look away from everyone who was applauding.

But then, my heart nearly stopped when I saw Victor standing in the living room’s arched doorway, clapping along with everybody else. How long had he been here? Had he seen my film?

“Your film was amazing,” he signed, letting me know he had. “No black history museum required.”

I grinned at his compliment, nearly giddy with happiness that he’d shown up as I signed back, “Thanks for coming.”