Page 64 of Tempting God

13

Greer

I leave the study as soon as I can. I won’t let Charles see how his words have affected me. My peace is short-lived as I run into Aimée. And my mother.

“There she is,” Aimée says in a cheery tone that comes off fake. “Time to get the bride ready for her big day.”

Oh my god. Can this day get any worse? Wait. I don’t think I want to know the answer to that.

Mother turns to me. This is the first time I’ve seen her since I graduated from college. She looks the same, just older. I guess Botox can’t hide her age anymore, though God knows she’s tried.

“Thank you for inviting me to your wedding.”

My gaze shoots to Aimée, who looks away.

I say, “Of course. It’s good to see you, Mother.”

The awkward tension is almost unbearable.

I turn to Aimée. “You said something about a dress?”

“I did. It’s upstairs, in the pink guest room.”

She says this as if I’m supposed to know where that is. When Grandfather lived here, nothing was pink in the house except for my Grandmother’s parlor. I smile at the memory. Grandfather claimed to hate the bright pink floral wallpaper, but never changed it after Grandmother passed away.

Aimée says, “This way.”

I follow her up the stairs, down a familiar hallway. My chest is tight as we enter the room. The ‘pink guest room’ is the room I used to stay in when I spent the holidays with Grandfather. My parents stayed across the hall. I wonder what changes have been made to that room.

Mother says, “I love what you did with this space. The furniture was so drab in here before.”

Aimée nods. “It was a beast to get it out of here. We ended up having it hauled to the dump with all the other stuff we cleared out.”

That pretty much summarizes my childhood. It all ended up in the dump.

In the center of the room is a rack with three wedding gowns on it. I stop, staring at it.

Aimée says, “This is all I could manage to find in your size on such short notice.”

“Yes, well, if Greer took better care of herself, then this wouldn’t be an issue.” Mother turns to me. “This is why I always stayed on you to eat better.”

I laugh. “Wow. Guess some things never change. I’m guessing it wouldn’t matter if I told you I had an eating disorder in college, would it? That I’ve struggled with food my entire life because of you.”

“You can’t blame me for your eating habits.”

“You’re right. But I can blame you for the emotional abuse you put me through.” I exhale shakily. “And for the physical abuse.”

Her eyes widen as she turns to Aimée. “See what I go through? Everything is my fault. Never mind the fact that she was an unruly child and needed to be punished all the time. I guess it’s just easier to blame me!”

Anger and resentment that I’ve held since I was a child burst out. “You beat me, Mother! Don’t try to sugar coat it. And Dad let it happen.”

Saying the words makes me pause. He had to know what was happening. The bruises. The excessive make-up when I was far too young to be wearing it. The phone calls from the school asking if everything was fine at home. He had to know. And yet he did nothing. My god. He’s just as much to blame as her.

Blinking back tears, I say, “You need to leave, Mother, and never try to contact me again.”

“Wha—”

“You heard my bride.”

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