“I’m valedictorian. I’m giving the speech at graduation.”
Rachel screamed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. Then she was crying and laughing and talking so fast I could barely understand her.
“I’m so proud of you. So incredibly proud. Your speech is going to be amazing. You’re going to change the world, Sarah. I always knew it.”
Graduation was scheduled for May 20th. Rachel asked for the day off from work months in advance. She bought a new dress. She invited all her friends, my aunts and uncles, the people who’d become my family. It was going to be a celebration.
Two weeks before graduation, I got an email from the university’s events coordinator. Due to my status as valedictorian, I was allowed to submit additional names for reserved seating beyond the standard two guest allocation. I immediately added names. Rachel, of course, plus six of her closest friends who’d become family to me.
The coordinator responded quickly.
“We actually have one additional request for your reserved section. Linda and Robert Mitchell have contacted us claiming to be your parents and requesting seats. Should we add them to your list?”
I stared at that email for a full five minutes. Linda and Robert Mitchell, my biological parents, the people who’d abandoned me at 13, who told me I was average and not worth saving, who’d chosen my sister’s college fund over my life. They wanted to come to my graduation.
I picked up the phone and called Rachel.
“Mom, my biological parents want to come to graduation.”
There was a long pause.
“How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know. Part of me wants to tell them to go to hell. Part of me wants them to see what I became despite them. What do you think I should do?”
“It’s your day, honey. Your accomplishment. Whatever you want, I’ll support. But if you ask my opinion, let them come. Let them see exactly what they threw away. Let them see the woman you became with a real mother by your side.”
I thought about it for a long time. Then I emailed back. “Yes, add them to the reserved section.” I wanted them there. I wanted them to see.
The next two weeks passed in a blur of final exams, packing up my apartment and writing my valedictorian speech. I didn’t tell Rachel what I was planning to say. I wanted it to be a surprise.
May 20th dawned bright and clear. Johns Hopkins commencement was held at Royal Farms Arena in Baltimore with seating for over 10,000 people. Graduates from all schools, medicine, nursing, public health, all of Hopkins would be there along with their families.
I arrived early for the graduate lineup. My white coat was pressed, my honor cords arranged perfectly. I was wearing Rachel’s necklace, the one with our intertwined initials, and the ring she’d given me on my 18th birthday.
As we were organizing by school and academic standing, one of the event coordinators approached me.
“Dr. Torres.”
They called us doctors even though we hadn’t officially graduated yet.
“Your guests are seated in section A, row three. Is there anything you need?”
“No, thank you. I’m ready.”