Page 35 of Night Wedding
“What do you want me to do?” she asked with exasperation. “After all, I am the mother of the bride.”
“If there’s anything, I’ll let you know.”
I glanced around my apartment, my gaze stopping on a framed photo of my Aunt Margaret and me as a young child. I’d found it up in her workspace after I’d inherited this house and had brought it down here to the living room. I liked having her watch over me like she seemed to have done over the years. In the photo, I was so young. She’d kept it out—one of the few physical pieces of evidence that we’d had a relationship once. Briefly. Before my mother had interfered, doing what she claimed was best for me.
The pang of loss returned, the one of being robbed of this relationship. My mother was wrong to have kept us apart. My aunt cared about me, and I should have had the chance to get to know her better. She should have been a part of my life and at my wedding.
The sense of obligation that I had to have my mother involved in my wedding lifted.
Before I let the bitterness rise with volcanic intensity that erupted into a shouting argument with my mother, I said, “I have to go. Bye, Mom.”
“Bye,” she replied in a curt tone.
It was one I recognized as a manipulative attempt for me to agree to do things her way to please her. Maybe I was overanalyzing again but living with her had made me sensitive to her gestures or slightest shifts in tone. Ah, family.
I tossed my phone across to the other sofa cushion. One good thing had come from it as it did help me decide on one of the options. In no way did I want to have to deal with the additional stress of family coming to this wedding. If my mother could raise my blood pressure with just a short call from several states away, what she would do if we were in the same town for an extended period might send me to the rafters.
After I ended the call, I made one decision—avoid family drama. We could elope and escape all the family stress. All that mattered from now on was the two of us.
A text came through readingWrong number?It was from Diego.
Ah, someone was feeling cheeky this morning. I laughed.
Funny.I texted back.What’s wrong, you don’t recognize a text from your fiancée?Typing out that word for the first time shot an arrow of delight through me.
I don’t recognize this number. You must have the wrong one.
What the crusty cauldrons was that about?
I checked to make sure I had the correct info. It matched Diego’s contact info and number.
Ah, maybe there was an underlying playful tone to his message. I started to come up with something naughty to text but stopped. What if one of the guys had gotten a hold of Diego’s phone? No way would I want them to read intimate exchanges between us. I could picture Lucas with a mile-wide grin as he manipulated Diego’s phone. I wasn’t going to fall into this trap and give them ammunition with embarrassing things they could bring up to haunt me later.
Putting my phone down, I resisted any urge to keep the conversation going. If I knew one of them had his phone, I could turn the joke around on them.
No, I had enough to do with work today. Oh well, I’d stop by to see Diego before I went to the Network, if he didn’t come over first.
Opening my laptop, I got to work. It was the usual emails and prioritizing and then I started to edit. I’d only had coffee and a muffin for breakfast so by lunchtime, I was ravenous. I headed into the shared kitchen to make a sandwich. Led Zeppelin was playing on the record player, so Lucas had to be home. He loved to collect records and played them often.
After I pulled out bread, mustard, roast beef, and Boursin cheese from the fridge, I glanced out to see him sitting in the living room playing a video game, Shadow curled up asleep next to him.
I strode over and crossed my arms over my chest. “Hey Lucas, so you got your hands on Diego’s phone?”
“What?” Lucas flashed a quick questioning glance before returning to the screen.
“Never mind.” I knew better than to try to have a conversation while he was invested in a video game. The walls of the house could crumble revealing a parade of pixies and trolls outside, and I doubt he would notice.
“Have you seen Diego?” I asked him.
Lucas tipped his chin up toward the ceiling. “I think he’s still in his room.” He glanced at his phone and put the remote down. “I gotta go.”
“See you later.” I pulled out a plate from the cabinet and prepared my sandwich, figuring I’d go see Diego after I ate. I added some red grapes and two pickle spears on the side. After I poured a glass of lemonade that Lucas had made with sprigs of mint from his herbs, I carried my lunch outside to eat in front of the garden. I’d added a black wrought-iron patio set earlier this summer to enjoy meals out here while I could. Although Diego couldn’t share meals outside with me here under the summer sun, we often sat outside at night with a glass of wine beneath the stars.
While I ate, I admired Lucas’s efforts in the garden. My aunt was a green witch and had taught him many tips. Although I couldn’t identify all the flowers and green plants that he’d told me about more than once, I appreciated their lovely fragrance and bright colors, even the sections that were dominated by shades of green. Sitting out there surrounded by trees and plants was calming. No wonder, many people enjoyed gardening. I didn’t see the appeal of digging through dirt to pull out weeds when it was much more enjoyable to sit aside the flowers and read a book, but we all have our things. I was so thankful that he’d kept her gardens going as I’d probably kill a plastic houseplant.
The conversation with my mother played in my head.
Think positive thoughts.
