“Does Ethan know you’re asking me not to come?”
“I know.”
Her voice broke slightly, but she still would not look at me.
I wanted to yell.
Instead, I asked, “Does Ethan know you’re asking me not to come?”
She hesitated.
“I won’t come.”
That was another answer.
I nodded.
“All right.”
Lauren finally looked up.
“Really?”
After she left, I poured the unfinished coffee down the sink. Her cup still had lipstick on the rim.
“I won’t come.”
Relief crossed her face.
That hurt worst of all.
After she left, I poured the unfinished coffee down the sink. Her cup still had lipstick on the rim.
I stood there longer than I’d like to admit, staring at it and wondering how my daughter had become someone who could erase me from the biggest day of her life.
Then I opened the drawer where I kept my mother’s pearl locket.
***
On the morning of the wedding, I stayed home until nearly noon.
Then I opened the drawer where I kept my mother’s pearl locket.
My mother had worn it at her wedding.
I had worn it at mine.
Lauren used to ask about it when she was little.
So I put it in a small velvet box and drove to the church.
“Can I wear it when I get married?”
“You’ll feel out of place, and I won’t be able to relax. I’ll spend the entire day worrying.”
“Worrying about what?”
She rubbed her palms together.
“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”
“That something might happen.”
“What could happen?”
She looked away.
I forced myself to ask.
“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”
That silence was all the answer I needed.
Lauren said nothing.
That silence was all the answer I needed.
I put the coffee pot down.
“Are you ashamed of me?”
“Mom, don’t make this harder.”
“I’m your mother.”
“Harder for whom?”
“It’s one day.”
“It’s your wedding.”
“I know.”
“I’m your mother.”
“Does Ethan know you’re asking me not to come?”
“I know.”
Her voice broke slightly, but she still would not look at me.
I wanted to yell.
Instead, I asked, “Does Ethan know you’re asking me not to come?”
She hesitated.
