Technically Bride C hasn’t done anything wrong. Okay, she’s been a little insensitive, but that’s not really anything new. But there’s this groomsman who is actually kind of awesome and I can’t do anything about that because of the other groomsman, so I’m over that wedding too.
Bride D—I still don’t know her. But my mom made me feel fat over her bridesmaid dress, and I have to take my grandma to Mexico in order to afford to even go to that wedding. So that one is tainted now too.
And my darling little sister. Can we call a spade a spade and stop the farce now? You’re not getting married. You’re a child. And I can’t return the dress that looks like a chewed-up piece of Bubblicious, so let’s cut the crap before I have to spend more money on your make-believe wedding, please.
I have had enough!
And I’m going to . . . do absolutely nothing about it except rant in this blog that no one is reading because I’m too chickenshit to cut ties with any of these people.
Cool.
Any advice? Anyone reading? Is anyone alive out there?
A tiny voice in my head told me to cool down before I published this one, but I mentally gave it the finger and hit “Publish” anyway. My previous posts had been fairly benign and had gotten me almost nowhere. Go big or go home, right?
Hell with it, I thought and grabbed my coat. I was going home too. It didn’t dawn on me until much later that I probably shouldn’t have used my work computer to post something personal.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Early in January, my mother texted me on a Friday, asking me to come to dinner to discuss a trip to Chicago for Madison’s bridal shower.
Does it HAVE to be tonight?
Why? Do you have a date or something?
I didn’t. But Alex and I were planning to binge a new Netflix show that Becca said was too scary for her. Not that she was home much anymore anyway. And if she was, Will was with her. I have plans with a friend.
Can you reschedule? We need to figure out what we’re doing.
I sighed and texted Alex. Can we watch tomorrow instead? Or start later tonight and finish tomorrow? My mom is demanding I be at her house for dinner to figure out going to Chicago for my brother’s fiancée’s bridal shower (kill me now please).
Was supposed to go on a date tomorrow, but I can cancel.
No, I don’t want you to cancel for me.
Three dots. Then nothing. Then three dots again. Honestly? I was probably going to cancel anyway. Let’s start the show when you get home tonight and we’ll see how good it is before we decide?
Deal.
I replied to my mom. Fine, but can we make it early?
She told me to be there at six.
“It’s important that we go,” Amy was saying. “I’d be so hurt if she didn’t come to mine.”
“She might not come to yours,” I cautioned. “Remember, her wedding is two weeks before the date we’re talking about.”
“She told me she’s coming.”
“Do you actually talk to her?”
Amy gave me a dirty look. “Yeah. Maybe you should too.”
“Girls, stop,” our mother said absently. “Amy is probably right. Lily?”
“I just—I don’t really have the time or the money to drop everything and fly to Chicago for a weekend.”
“She’s going to be our sister.”
“In-law. Calm down, Ames.”
She crossed her arms. “Are you even going to come to my shower at this rate?”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know, is it in Chicago?”
“Why are you being such a bitch?”
I looked at my mother, who said nothing. “Seriously?” I asked her.
“Amy, language,” she said mildly.
I looked to my dad, who was extremely engaged in eating his salad and staying as far from the conversation as possible. He never publicly took my side against my mother, but he usually would against Amy when she was being ridiculous. Apparently his salad was absolutely fascinating, though, because I couldn’t catch his eye.
I huffed, defeated. “I can try to find reasonable airfare. And if we share a hotel room, I can probably swing it.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be in all of those weddings,” Amy said, bolstered by our mother’s refusal to actually check her. “Family comes first.”
“Is that why Ashlee is your maid of honor?” I shot back. My mother perked up.
“Do you even want to be? I feel like you don’t want to be in my wedding at all!”
I stood up and put my napkin on the table. “Okay. I’m outta here. Look, I said I’ll go to the shower even though it’s not easy for me to do right now, but I’m not going to sit here while you shame me about your wedding because I’m not dropping everything to be at your beck and call.”
“Actually, I’m shaming you because you’re making no effort to get to know Madison and it’s pissing Jake off.”
“Then let Jake tell me that because he hasn’t said a word to me.”
“When’s the last time you even talked to him? He said you haven’t returned his calls.”
I paused. Yes, I’d missed a couple of calls from Jake, but that was like a month ago. I had figured if it was important, he would text me or at least leave a message. And then I promptly forgot about it because I had so much else on my plate with all of the brides. Was I the reason we didn’t have much of a relationship?
When I didn’t say anything, Amy continued. “I’m just saying you need to go to the shower.”
“And I said I would!”
“Grudgingly! You should want to go.”
“Some of us actually pay our own bills.”
“Enough,” my mom said, finally with some force. “Amy, we’re going to the shower, all of us. Lily, you could make more of an effort with Madison.”
“Like you did with the bridesmaid dresses?” I asked quietly, unable to hold the words in.
My mother started sputtering, and I didn’t want to be there to see the steam that was about to come out of her ears. “I’m going home. Thank you for dinner. I’ll email you with airfare rates.” I turned and raced out of the dining room.
My father caught me just after I went out the front door. “Lily, wait.”
My shoulders slumped, but I turned around. It was freezing out and he hadn’t put on a coat. I walked silently back to him and he led me into his study, where I sat in the chair across the desk from his. He closed the door behind us and sat down as well.
“I know,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “What do you know?”
“That I’m overreacting and I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say. I was going to ask if you’re okay. You don’t seem happy.”
“I’m just stressed about all the weddings. And Amy’s not exactly helping. Can’t she stop already? We’re both adults now.”
He looked amused. “You are. We’ll talk about her status if this wedding takes place and she’s no longer living under my roof.”
I looked at him for a moment, processing what he had just said, and then let out a small yelp of hysteric laughter.
“Never tell her I said that.”
I mimed locking my lips. “Mom isn’t helping either.”
He sighed. “It’s a good thing you never moved back home. I wouldn’t have survived it. But your mother, as much difficulty as she has showing it sometimes, loves you to pieces.” I screwed up my face in disbelief. “You’re more like her than you realize.”
“I think that was an insult.”
“Absolutely not. But she sees herself in you and criticizes those faults. She wants you to be the perfect version of her.”
“Why isn’t she like that with Amy?”
“Amy’s the baby. She’s hard on her in different ways.”
“I never see it.”
“You don’t live here.” I didn’t quite believe him. “But your biggest fan doesn’t just provide silent moral support.” He pulled his checkbook out of his drawer. “It sounds like you’re struggling,” he said as he wrote. “I’d like to help take away some of your stress. Consider it a loan from your own wedding account. We’ll spend a little less on flowers when your day comes.”
My eyes felt wet and I rose to hug him as he handed me the check. “Thank you, Dad.”
“I love you, Lilypad. But uh—maybe don’t tell your mother about this. It’ll be our little secret.”
I hugged him tighter. “I’ll go apologize to Mom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE