"Nothing bad." I gently lift the laptop from the table and set it on the dresser. "Trust me?"
"That's a loaded question."
"Fair." I pull the garment bag from behind my back. "But I'm asking anyway."
Her eyes widen as I unzip it, revealing the royal blue graduation gown with gold trim. The Pittsburgh University wildcat gleams on the sleeve.
"Tucker..." Her voice cracks. "What is this?"
"Your commencement." I lift the gown carefully from the hanger. "You worked too hard to miss it just because these girls decided they prefer you lying down."
Tears are already streaming down her face. "I can't go to commencement. Dr. Patel said?—"
"I know what she said. Strict bed rest until the babies arrive." I sit on the edge of the bed, mindful of the monitors and gadgets checking on the girls. "So, I'm bringing commencement to you."
I help her sit forward, easing the gown over her shoulders. Her belly is enormous now, pressing against the fabric. Shula and Aurora have been measuring ahead of schedule since week twenty, and Dr. Patel thinks they could arrive with healthy lungs any day now.
"Arms through here," I murmur, guiding her hands into the sleeves. "There we go."
Sloane blows her nose. "How are you making commencement happen?"
I fasten the front closure, working around her belly. "You finished every requirement. Turned in your final project last week, even though you were conducting phone interviews from bed while simultaneously gestating two humans. You earned this degree, Sloane. You deserve to celebrate it."
"But—"
I press a finger gently to her lips. "No buts. Just let me do this, okay?"
She nods, and I retrieve the mortarboard from the garment bag. The tassel is gold, already positioned on the right side.
"Ready for the full experience?" I ask, twirling a finger at my waiting musicians.
"What do you?—"
The opening notes of "Pomp and Circumstance" blast from the doorway.
Sloane's mouth falls open as the brass quartet begins to play, the ceremonial march filling our bedroom with all the pageantry she was supposed to experience in the arena with three thousand other graduates.
"Tucker Stag." She's laughing and crying at the same time. "You are so extra."
"Had to make it official." I place the cap carefully on her head, mindful of her bun. "Can't have a proper commencement without the music."
The quartet continues playing the march, and our other guests file into the procession as Sloane’s mouth drops.
Mel wheels in first, dressed in business casual and grinning like she just won a case. Professors Newman and Khan follow, both wearing their academic regalia. Pete was supposed to be here too, but called this morning with some vague excuse about an emergency he couldn't get out of. The band finishes their song and rests their instruments on the floor, standing politely to the side of our makeshift ceremony.
"Ms. Campbell." Dr. Newman's stern expression softens into something almost tender. "I believe congratulations are in order."
Sloane is openly sobbing now. "You came."
"Of course, we came." Dr. Khan moves to the bedside, her own eyes suspiciously bright. "You've been one of my best students, despite some rather extraordinary circumstances."
"Your service learning project was exceptional," Dr. Newman adds. "The interviews with BIPOC prenatal care providers in the Pittsburgh region revealed systemic gaps that need to be addressed. Your analysis will inform policy recommendations for the health department."
"Really?" Sloane wipes at her face. "You're not just saying that?"
"I don't just say things." Dr. Newman's tone is dry, but kind. "Your work matters, Ms. Campbell. Which is why the dean approved your completion and conferred your degree."
I pull out my phone and prop it against the lamp, angling itso the camera captures Sloane. "Okay, everyone watching at home—you can unmute yourselves and applaud."
