Across the room, the AV technician caught my eye.
He was an old college friend.
Another “video nerd,” as Dad used to call people like us.
I gave him a small nod.
He already had the flash drive.
At the head table, Elise stood beside Carson with one arm wrapped around him.
She raised her champagne glass.
“Thank you all for being here,” she said. “I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect family, a more perfect husband, or a more perfect day.”
People smiled.
Glasses lifted.
Applause filled the room.
Then the lights dimmed.
The projector came to life.
The first images were exactly what everyone expected.
Baby Elise covered in birthday cake frosting.
Five-year-old Elise dressed like a fairy princess.
Me in the background wearing a cardboard robot costume.
People laughed.
My parents relaxed.
Elise smiled.
Then came the school years.
Trophies.
Dance recitals.
Graduation gowns.
Clip after clip of Mom and Dad cheering for her.
The room settled into comfortable nostalgia.
That was when the music changed.
Slower.
Lower.
Then another clip appeared.
Same family.
Different perspective.
There I was.
Standing quietly at the edge of the frame.
Dad’s voice came clearly through the speakers.
“Don’t zoom in on him. Keep it on Elise.”
A few smiles disappeared.
Mom shifted in her seat.
Then came footage from my college graduation.
"At my sister’s wedding, my father leaned close enough that only I could hear him. “Try not to ruin this the way you ruin everything else.”
