Chương 6
Luis set the roses back on the stand.
Dad looked at his hand.
"Think I broke something."
Mom glanced over.
"You hit a man on our daughter's wedding day."
"He deserved it."
"That doesn't improve your wrist."
"I didn't say it did."
It was such a familiar argument that my throat tightened.
Normal life had somehow wandered back into the room wearing muddy shoes.
I handed the recorder to Luis.
"Can you keep this safe?"
He hesitated.
"You sure?"
"No."
That surprised a laugh out of him.
It surprised one out of me too.
"Okay," he said.
He slipped the recorder into an empty memory-card case from his camera bag.
"Don't delete anything."
"I won't."
"Don't send it to anybody either."
His expression became serious.
"I wouldn't."
Across the room, Claire lifted her head.
"Anna."
I looked at her.
"I know you said an hour."
"Then why are you talking?"
She closed her mouth.
The cruelty of my answer landed immediately.
I saw it.
I did not take it back.
A woman from the venue approached with a white tablecloth folded over her arms.
Paula had apparently asked her to find something I could wear.
The woman held it up apologetically.
"We don't have robes."
I looked at the tablecloth.
It was enormous.
"Perfect."
Mom frowned.
"Anna."
"What?"
"You cannot leave wrapped in a tablecloth."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
Then her mouth twitched.
"Fine," she said.
"Today has already gotten strange."
The staff woman helped Mom drape it around me.
It covered the ripped front of the dress and most of the paint.
I looked like a very angry piece of banquet furniture.
Dad inspected me.
"Honestly, I've seen worse."
"When?"
"Your cousin's pirate wedding."
Mom closed her eyes.
"Tom, please."
"He asked us to wear eye patches."
"Nobody asked."
The laughter that escaped me hurt.
It became a sob without warning.
Mom reached for me.
This time I let her.
I pressed my forehead against her shoulder and cried into the dress she had bought specifically for this day.
She did not tell me everything would be okay.
I was grateful for that.
She simply held the back of my head, careful where the paint was thickest.
Dad stood beside us with his useless hand tucked against his stomach.
His face was wet too.
When I pulled away, he looked embarrassed.
"I've got allergies."
"Inside?"
"Very aggressive pollen."
I wiped my nose with the edge of the tablecloth.
Dad nodded.
"Classy."
"Shut up."
"There's my girl."
Claire started crying again.
I heard her and refused to turn around.
Paula approached us with an envelope.
"I hate to bring this up."
I looked at the envelope.
"Money?"
She winced.
"Unfortunately."
"Go ahead."
"We'll refund the unused bar package and some of the catering service fees."
"Some?"
"The food has already been prepared."
"Of course."
"And there may be cleaning costs."
My mother stiffened.
Paula quickly added, "I'm documenting that the damage was caused by the groom."
"Former groom," Dad said.
Paula glanced at me.
I nodded.
"Former."
The word felt oddly small.
She continued.
"We also have security footage of him bringing the bucket in through the side entrance."
I looked at her.
"When?"
"Nine thirty-two this morning."
That was before I arrived.
At nine thirty-two, I had been in Beth's car complaining that I had forgotten deodorant.
Beth had stopped at a pharmacy while I sat in the passenger seat wearing pajama pants and curlers.
Daniel had already been here.
Hiding paint.
Planning something.
"Can I get a copy?"
"Probably."
Paula chose the word carefully.
"I need to speak with the owner first, and I may need a formal request depending on what happens."
"What happens with what?"
She looked at the damaged dress.
"The police."
My mother straightened.
"Police?"
Paula nodded.
"Security asked whether you wanted them called."
I looked toward the doors.
Outside, through the tall windows, I could see a few guests still gathered near the parking lot.
Some were talking in small groups.
Others were staring at their phones.
Daniel was nowhere in sight.
"What would I even report?"
Paula did not answer immediately.
"That's something they would determine."
I hated the uncertainty.
I wanted someone to tell me exactly what category my life belonged in now.
Assault.
Property damage.
Domestic violence.
A wedding gone wrong.
A family scandal.
A stupid viral clip waiting to happen.
"Did anybody record it?"
The question came out before I meant to ask it.
Luis looked at me.
"I was taking photos when he approached you."
My stomach turned.
"Did you photograph him ripping the dress?"
"Some of it."
"And the paint?"
His silence answered.
I closed my eyes.
There were professional photographs of the worst minute of my life.
Claire spoke from her chair.
"People had phones out."
I turned toward her.
She immediately looked down.
"How many?"
"I don't know."
"Did you record it?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Her face tightened.
"Yes."
I believed her.
That annoyed me.
I wanted the luxury of doubting everything she said.
My phone was still in the bridal suite.
The thought made my stomach drop.
"Where's my phone?"
Mom pointed upstairs.
"With your bag."
Daniel had been in that room.
I looked at Luis.
"You saw him go into the bridal room?"
"Yes."
"Was my phone there?"
"I don't know."
I started toward the stairs.
Mom caught my arm.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting it."
"No."
"Anna."
"I said no."
She released me.
The old reflex to apologize rose automatically.
I swallowed it.
I climbed the stairs in the ruined dress and tablecloth while my parents followed.
Luis came too.
Claire remained below.
I noticed.
The bridal suite smelled like hairspray, champagne, and the lavender candles Beth had brought because she said every wedding morning needed one unnecessary luxury.
Half-empty glasses sat on the vanity.
A curling iron remained unplugged on the counter.
May you like
One false eyelash rested near the sink like a dead insect.
My purse was beside the sofa.
