“Would you have come? It was kind of a couples thing anyway.”
No, I wouldn’t have gone. I didn’t have the time, money, or inclination to have that much togetherness with my siblings and soon-to-be siblings-in-law. But it still stung to be excluded for the sin of being single.
I shrugged, trying to brush it off. “How was Madison?”
“She’s actually really nice. Kind of shy, but we got massages and manicures and once you get a few drinks in her, she’s fun!”
“So she has more personality than the wallpaper?”
Amy made a face. “You should be nicer. She’s going to be our sister.”
“You were the one who said that about her when Jake brought her home the first time!”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know her then. You should make an effort to get to know her.”
My mother called my name and gestured for Ashlee and me to go into the fitting rooms, which I took as a welcome excuse to exit the conversation. Lectures on social graces from a virtual toddler who still lived at home and was too immature to call and make dress-fitting appointments herself weren’t good for anyone.
Somewhere between the discussion of how anything short would work for everyone except me, because my legs were too long, and low-cut would be fine—oh, but not on Lily—I decided to mentally excuse myself from the conversation. After my experience the previous day, I was willing to put on whatever they wanted as long as I didn’t have to pay attention to what they were saying about it.
And although I would never admit it to either of my siblings, my feelings were hurt that I hadn’t even been considered for the weekend in Mexico. I mean, yes, Jake and Amy had always been closer than I was with either of them. They were only three years apart, whereas I was five and eight years older than them, respectively. They had spent a year in high school together. I had already graduated from college and was working at the foundation by that year. Everyone had always said the age difference would matter less as we got older, but instead of that happening, the two of them seemed to have suddenly bypassed me entirely and now were doing a whole level of adulting that I hadn’t gotten to yet. Serious relationships, engagements, and joint vacations. What just happened?
Eventually, Amy, Ashlee, and my mother agreed on some pink chiffon disaster that I thought made me look like a piece of cotton candy, but it only cost $175, putting me somewhat back on track. For this wedding at least. So I said it was great.
“Come to dinner tonight?” my mother asked as I waited for the saleslady to return with my overburdened credit card. “Your grandmother is coming and we’re getting takeout.”
I agreed, mostly because it saved me a trip to see my grandmother soon. I had been so busy between work and weddings that the only time I had seen her in the last three months was when she came shopping for Amy’s wedding dress.
Tyler and Amy dominated the conversation at dinner, prattling on happily about the many features of Jake and Madison’s wedding resort.
“There are hot tubs in every room,” Amy said. “And they bring you drinks all day at the pool.”
“And the food was amazing,” Tyler said. “You can get room service at any hour of the day or night and it’s all free.”
“Everything is included, so it’s really a steal, all things considered.”
“How much would you call a steal?” I asked. My mother shot me a look.
“Jake said it would come out to a little over two thousand a person for the weekend.”
“Two thousand?” Everyone stopped to look at me. “For a weekend?”
“Well, a little more if you’re not sharing a room, so probably twenty-five hundred for you, but that includes airfare,” Amy said. “And all the meals and drinks. And Jake said the wedding itself costs almost nothing because the resort does most of it for free when you bring a certain number of guests. Which is great because Mom and Dad have enough on their plate with our wedding.” She nudged Tyler playfully and he picked up her hand and kissed it.
“It’s not exactly free when all of your guests are paying two grand apiece to be there.”
“What happened to that real job you were bragging about?” Amy asked. “It’s not like you can’t afford it.”
“I’m in four other weddings, too, Amy. Including yours.”
“Girls, stop it,” my dad said, exchanging a look across the table with my mother that immediately told me this dinner wasn’t a random, spur-of-the-moment thing.
I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms defiantly, but my mind was reeling. I had only factored fifteen hundred into my wedding budget for Jake and Madison’s wedding and definitely had not realized I would be paying more for being single. Not to mention I had already spent more on bridesmaid dresses alone than I had saved. An extra thousand dollars? I was going to be paying these weddings off for years at this rate.
“We actually had an idea,” my mother said, hesitantly. “We were going to pitch it after dinner.”
“What?” I braced for the worst.
“We’ll pay for your trip,” she said, then stopped.
“What do I have to do in return?”
My parents exchanged a look again. I quickly inventoried what they could have in mind versus what I would be willing to do. I doubted they would come up with anything too morally repugnant. “Get your grandmother there.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Grandma chimed in angrily. While she was as spunky as she had ever been—perhaps more so, as she had definitely lost any semblance of a filter with age—she didn’t walk so well anymore since breaking a hip two years earlier. But she was still driving, despite a minor stroke, practically no reflexes, and significant hearing loss in both ears. No one wanted to ask the question of how her vision was because it was obvious the answer would be terrifying. And she was still convinced she could do everything she had done sixty years earlier, from lifting the sofa to clean under it to driving nearly five hundred miles to visit her hometown.
“You need help,” my mother told her. “You can’t get your own luggage to the airport, let alone deal with checking it, and you ought to be in a wheelchair to get on the plane.”
“I’m not riding in a wheelchair like some invalid,” she argued, brandishing a fork at my mother. “You act like I’ve never flown on an airplane, but I’ve been all over the world and I’ll do it all again. Without help.”
“Mom, don’t start with this.”
“Don’t start with what, Joan? I’m not a child, no matter how you treat me. I don’t need someone to drive Miss Daisy over here. No offense, Joan.” The second “Joan” was directed at me. After thirty-two years of being her granddaughter, my grandmother still called me by my mother’s name ninety percent of the time. But she had been doing that since she was in her fifties, so that alone wasn’t a great indicator of declining mental agility.
I turned to my parents. “Would I have to share a room with her?”
“And what’s so wrong with sharing a room with me?” I exchanged a look with Amy, who was trying not to laugh. My grandmother had absolutely no sense of modesty left. When she got a medical alert button, she raised her shirt to show it to us rather than pulling it out of her shirt. Without a bra on.
“No.” My dad ignored my grandmother completely. “Your own room. Just get her to the airport, on the airplane, and to the hotel, then the reverse after the wedding.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Deal,” I said, relief sweeping over me as I imagined the numbers on my credit card bill rolling backward. Besides, it would make great material for my blog.
“I didn’t agree to this deal,” my grandmother said, struggling to rise from the table.
“Do you need some help?” I asked her. She gave me a sharp look, but sat back down in her chair. “It’ll be good bonding time.”
“If we rent a car there, I’m driving,” she said gruffly.
“There’s a shuttle from the airport,” my father said immediately. “You’re not driving in Mexico.”