The Day The Earth Stood Still

It was four o’clock in the evening when I heard the news.
I stood in the crowd of cheering and applauding parents, various family members, and significant others. I searched for her in the sea of black caps and gowns. The valedictorian was making her speech in front of the class, the special student wearing the exactly the same clothes. No identity. She didn’t matter. Only my daughter’s success did. So what if this girl could juggle theatre, soccer, student government, and a 4.0 GPA? Schools only gave this title to make them look better, using her in their discreet competition.
Where is she? My wife placed her hand on my shoulder, knowing my eyes were unsuccessful in finding our daughter.
“She’s there,” she told me with a smile.
I chuckled, “I know she’s there. I just want to see her.”
I looked around, still unable to find her. Last name: Johnson. She wouldn’t be up front, more in the middle somewhere. Or would she?
I leaned back on my portion of the bleacher, “Damn it. Couldn’t they have been each a little different from each other in some way?”
The valedictorian was still speaking on the stage. Must have been five minutes since she started. What could she say that any of us didn’t already know?
“…And with the lessons we’ve learned here, I can say with confidence that our class is ready to go off and start our own lives. Each class we took here means something, and each friend we made will be in our hearts for the rest of our lives.”
“Oh shut up!” I blurted out loud.
“Jack!” Janet yelled at me.
“What? She’s been up there for the past seven minutes! Enough already. What more does she need? She’s going to Princeton anyways, her ego should be satisfied.”
She moved her lips to say something, but just leaned back, ignoring my worst quality. When I didn’t like something, I just said it. No holding back, no sensitivity. Just said what I thought. Probably how I got my job at the Times. Easy to say what you think when you don’t care about…
“And now we shall ask the graduating class to rise. We shall begin giving out the diplomas.”
Finally! Alright, just have to wait for everyone “A-I” and then I can cheer. High honors student for four years, active member of the writing club, a published poet and worker at the local Starbucks: Amanda Johnson.
“Chris Davidson!”
Applied and was accepted to the Hofstra University, the perfect school for her, as she had put it. And I couldn’t agree more. Not only was it close to home, but it was far enough for her to have to board there. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter. But her life is now her life. She needs to live on her own, plan her own schedule every day, and cook her own meals.
I’ll miss all of that.
“David House!”
Almost there, sweety. You’re so close. Daddy’s proud of you.
My cell phone rang, and for some reason I actually picked it up.
“What is it?”
“Jack, this is Frank.”
I didn’t care that I just rudely yelled at my boss. I told him how important this day was. I told him that I was taking the day off. I told him not to call me.
“Frank, I really don’t care now.”
“Michael Jackson is dead. Come into work as soon as you can so that I can give you your next assignment.”
I stood there. This isn’t possible. How can he be dead? He wasn’t even sick, he was going to do a concert in a few days. Since when did he-
“Jack! There she is!”
I turned around to see me daughter walking off the stage, diploma in hand, smiling to the crowd for me. I didn’t see it. When hand made contact with paper. I’d missed it.
I closed the phone in my hand and began to wonder where to start looking.