Page 118 of Done with You

Pasha continued to curl Rayma’s hair. “It’s a tattoo, Mom,” she repeated.

“You know how your father and I feel about tattoos.”

“Then don’t get any,” Mieka said.

“How could you disgrace your body like that? You know what your father says. It’s like putting a bumper sticker on a Ferrari. You’ve just gone and cheapened yourself.”

“Well now, hang on,” Joy started. “That’s a bit uncalled for.”

“I’m having a conversation with my daughters,” Yanna spat back.

“Yeah, loudly and in front of everyone,” Mieka added. “You’re unnecessarily making a scene.”

Their mother rounded on her. “Mieka!”

Oona rolled her eyes, glanced up at her sister, and told her to back off with the eye makeup for a moment. Then she stood up, slipped the spaghetti straps of her sleeveless dress over her shoulders and let it pool to the ground at her feet so she was in nothing but her bra and underwear. “Mom, we all have tattoos. I have four.”

Her mother’s eyes doubled in size as they scanned Oona’s body, taking in the hearts on her hip, the lily along her ribs, and when she lifted her arm, the compass on her tricep. Then she turned around so her mother could see the hummingbird on her back.

Oona faced her mother again. “And you know what, Mom. I’m also a doctor. I have my fucking PhD and tattoos. Pasha is a pediatrician and has tattoos, Triss is a speech path and has a tattoo, Rayma is a social worker and has tattoos and Mieka is a dancer and has tattoos. Having tattoos does not make you any less of a person. Any less of a success. Because I happen to think we’re all pretty fucking successful. And hey, maybe I don’t want to be a Ferrari. Or maybe I do and I want to cover myself in bumper stickers. Who gives a fuck? But the moment you kicked Rayma out of the house and turned your back on her, was the moment we all stopped giving a fuck about what you thought of us.”

Their mother gasped. Her whole body trembled and for the briefest of moments, Oona thought perhaps she’d gone too far.

But, no, she hadn’t. This was a long time coming.

“We did what we thought was best for her,” their mother defended. “We raised her exactly the way we raised you four, and it just … didn’t work.”

“Because I’m not a clone,” Rayma said with exasperation. “None of us are. And it didn’t work with all of us. We all have some seriously fucked up triggers from your parenting. From the constant shaming. The judgment. The comments about food, our bodies, our clothes, and our learning disabilities.”

Every time one of them swore, their mother would blanch, flinch and suck in a rattled breath as if the words weren’t just words, but a baseball bat and the person who swore was wielding the bat closer and closer to her face.

“Well, you turned out … fine. I think we did the right thing.”

“I turned out fucking spectacular, fuckyouverymuch,” Rayma said. “And it’s not because of you, its because of this woman.” She pointed at Joy. “She took me in. She gave me the patience, structure, and freedom that I craved. That I begged for. That you were just too lazy to give me. I’m amazing in spite of you.”

Yes!

Sing it, kiddo.

“You have five incredible daughters. Successful, amazing, brilliant and beautiful daughters who have so much going for them, and yet, all you ever do is focus on the negative. Chastise them for picking men with dangerous jobs, criticize them for getting tattoos, or showing skin. You pick us apart, when as our parents, as our mother, you should be building us up.” Oona reached down and shimmied back into her dress. “All I have to say, Mom, is that my sisters and I have only grown closer over the years as we’ve bonded over our trauma of being raised by you. Commiserating has brought us closer. So, thank you, I guess.” She shrugged and sat back down in her seat, lifting her chin at Mieka to finish her makeup. “You will be asked to leave if you make the bride cry,” Oona warned before she closed her eyes so Mieka could apply the eye shadow. “I will escort you off the property myself.”

Her eyes were closed, but she heard footsteps approach the door, the door open and that same gait head down the stairs. Then a kiss, followed by three more landed on her cheeks.

She smiled.

“You’re fucking amazing, Oons,” Rayma said.

“Brass balls, baby.” Mieka swept the eyeshadow across Oona’s lids.

Once her hair and makeup were finished, Oona left the “bridal suite” and headed downstairs to check on things. Jordan, Jace and Aiden had arrived and all three looked dapper in their serge blues.

She nearly swallowed her damn tongue when Aiden turned around, dressed in his uniform and with his beard freshly trimmed. Holy hell did he look good.

His eyes drank her in and darkened as his mouth split into a big smile and he walked toward her. Instantly, he took her hand. “You look amazing.”

Heat filled her cheeks. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“Come, see what we can accomplish when we put our differences aside and work together.” Still holding her hand, he led her out the door from Heath and Pasha’s kitchen to the deck. An awning had been set up, the wood patio cleared of snow and lined with small cedar trees in pots and bedazzled with white lights. The awning only spanned about eight feet, then they stepped down where a red velvet carpet was laid out on top of the stone patio and a cleared path of snow. The whole thing was tented by white tents that had panels all around it, protecting them. Heaters were in the corners and white lights strung across the support beams for the tents. Chairs formed rows on either side of the aisle, while more cedars decorated with red bows and more lights led the way to the alter. An actual arbor, covered in cedar boughs, lights, and holly stood waiting for the happy couple.

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