Page 16 of Arranged Silverfox

“Yes, because I’m sure you were quite an upstanding citizen when you were in your twenties. Boys will be boys and all that bullshit.”

“We’re getting married, sweetheart. Tell me how you really feel. Don’t hold back. You didn’t last night.”

“Whatever.”

I gritted my teeth and decided to let it go. Not everything needs to be a battle, but then again…”

“The whatever is annoying. I prefer more adult language.”

“You know, the idea that slang is somehow less than quote-unquote proper language is rooted in racist and sexist ideologies. Spoken speech and slang are just as valuable as written speech.”

I laughed and eased the car to a stop at a red light. “I didn’t know you had a second job as a linguistics professor. Can I at least expect more candid language from you? If you have something to say, I prefer you come out and say it.”

Silence.

“So, you hate communicating, and you have to get hammered to fuck me.” I shook my head. “This is going to be an amazing marriage.”

She huffed and looked out the window.

The day couldn’t end soon enough.

It took several rounds of apologies to soothe our mothers’ anxious banter about missing the party. Rebecca’s mother was a painfully thin, white woman with chin-length, blonde hair and deep green eyes. She wore a fitted, lavender dress that billowed off her rail-thin body. She had none of Rebecca’s soft curves.

My mother, Lorraine, was a plus-size woman with dark hair and dark eyes. Today, she wore a midnight-blue velvet pantsuit and matching chunky heeled boots. Already, I can tell that our mothers are opposites.

“Really, Rebecca,” her mother needled. “Missing the party is nearly unforgivable.” Her upper-class Boston accent was thick and grating.

“I’m sorry, Mother, it won’t happen again.”

Regina stiffened. “It better not.”

My mother turned to me and said, “It was kind of you to pick Rebecca up at the restaurant where she got sick.”

She sipped her water.

Regina started again, “I don’t understand why you were at the restaurant when you had a birthday dinner to attend.”

Rebecca explained for the fourth time, “My friends wanted to have a small celebration for me. I didn’t get a chance to go out last year, remember? I was busy with finals.”

“And who’s fault was that?” Rebecca’s mother asked.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, but her mother continued, “It must have been great to see your friends! The people who fed you and clothed you and have been by your side since the day you were born!” She laughed humorlessly, “Oh wait, that’s me!”

My mother started to speak again, but our server approached the table. “Are you all ready to order?”

Rebecca placed her order first, “I’ll have the lobster bisque.”

Regina shook her head. “Why don’t you get something light, like a salad?”

Rebecca clenched her jaw and said, “I’ll have the Caesar salad with grilled chicken. Thank you.”

“Put the dressing on the side,” her mother added. She reached over to pat Rebecca’s hand.

“We have to make sure your wedding dress fits. It’s an heirloom.”

“Oh yes, because if I don’t get married in a mothball-coated relic, all our lives will be ruined,” Rebecca sighed.

Regina turned to my mother. “We dug up her great-grandmother’s dress from her estate, practically break our backs trying to find the thing, and she’s still a brat. Can you believe her?” She glanced at Rebecca again. “Aren’t girls your age supposed to love vintage clothes?”

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