Chương 7
The recording continued.
Ashley carried the dress into the hallway.
“If she cries, I swear I’m going to lose it.”
She laughed.
“She always does that face.”
Then came the sentence Nathan had warned me about.
“Mike will freak out, but Mom will make him get over it.”
Emily stopped the video before the patio appeared.
She placed my phone carefully on the table.
Too carefully.
Rachel said, “I’m going to kill her.”
“No.”
Emily’s voice was flat.
“Em.”
“No.”
She stood.
“She wants a reaction.”
I stood too.
“What do you want to do?”
She looked at me.
“Nothing.”
That answer scared me.
“Nothing?”
“I want to stop thinking about her.”
I nodded slowly.
“For today?”
“For today.”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“And after today?”
Emily looked toward the balcony.
A bus hissed to a stop at the corner below.
“I don’t know.”
She went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Rachel waited until the water started running.
Then she looked at me.
“This is bigger than the dress.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean she planned it.”
“I know.”
“And she knew your mother would protect her.”
I looked at my phone.
The video thumbnail was still visible.
Rachel pulled out a chair.
“What are you going to do?”
I thought about Mom’s face on the staircase.
Ashley’s certainty in the recording.
Dad saying that’s what we always say.
Then I thought about Emily asking whether I still wanted Saturday.
“I’m going to change the wedding.”
Rachel stared at me.
“How?”
“Ashley’s out.”
“That part seems obvious.”
“My parents might be too.”
Rachel blinked.
“Mike.”
“I’m not saying they can’t come.”
“Then what are you saying?”
I opened the wedding planning spreadsheet on my laptop.
My mother’s name was attached to nearly every vendor contact.
Reception hall.
Florist.
Caterer.
Church coordinator.
Seating chart.
For months, I had let her run the machinery because she was good at it and because I hated details.
Now every detail looked like leverage.
“I’m saying nobody gets to use Saturday to pretend this didn’t happen.”
I clicked the first phone number.
The church coordinator answered after four rings.
I introduced myself and told her there had been a change in the wedding party.
Then another.
By two-thirty, Ashley was no longer a bridesmaid.
By three, I had changed the family-processional order.
At three-fifteen, Mom called.
I knew exactly why before I answered.
“Michael, what did you do?”
“I changed the wedding party.”
“You removed your sister without talking to me?”
“She threw Emily’s dress in a pool.”
“We were handling that.”
“No, we weren’t.”
Her breathing sharpened.
“You are humiliating her.”
I looked at the video thumbnail again.
“No.”
My voice remained calm.
“She humiliated herself.”
Mom went silent.
Then she said, “You’re going to regret turning one bad decision into a permanent family fracture.”
I thought about the sentence Ashley had recorded upstairs.
Mom will make him get over it.
“Maybe,” I said.
“But for once, the person who caused the fracture is going to have to feel it.”
Mom hung up without saying goodbye.
I stared at the dark phone screen for a few seconds, then set it beside the laptop.
Rachel was leaning against the kitchen counter with her arms crossed.
“You know she’s going to call Emily next.”
“I know.”
“You going to warn her?”
I looked toward the bathroom door.
“Yes.”
Emily came out ten minutes later with damp hair and red eyes.
I told her Mom might call.
She picked up her phone, looked at the screen, and turned it off.
“I don’t want to hear what anyone thinks I should forgive before Saturday.”
Rachel nodded.
“That seems healthy.”
Emily looked at her.
“You have wine for breakfast.”
“It was orange juice.”
“It was in a wineglass.”
“All glasses are wineglasses if your life is stressful enough.”
Emily almost smiled.
I wanted to preserve that small moment, but my phone vibrated again.
This time it was Dad.
I let it ring.
Then Nathan.
I answered him.
“You okay?”
“Define okay.”
“Mom found out.”
“I figured.”
“She’s furious.”
“At me?”
“At everything.”
“That narrows it down.”
Nathan was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “Ashley knows about the video.”
My stomach tightened again.
“How?”
“One of her friends told her she sent it to me.”
“And?”
“She’s deleting stuff.”
“Did you save the original?”
“Yes.”
“Cloud backup?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Mike, I’m not joining some prosecution team.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“It feels like you’re turning me into evidence.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
I leaned back in the chair.
“You’re right.”
Nathan exhaled.
“I think what she did was awful.”
“I know.”
“But she’s my sister too.”
“I know.”
“And Mom’s walking around like the house caught fire.”
“That’s not your job to fix.”
“I know that too.”
He sounded tired of knowing things.
“I just don’t want this to become everybody picking a side forever.”
I looked at Emily.
She was sitting on the couch while Rachel combed through bridal websites beside her.
“I don’t either.”
Nathan lowered his voice.
“Then don’t make me be your messenger.”
“I won’t.”
“Okay.”
Before he hung up, he added, “For what it’s worth, Ashley’s scared.”
“Of what?”
“Money, mostly.”
“That sounds like Ashley.”
“And that you won’t talk to her again.”
I looked down at the table.
“That part depends on her.”
Nathan sighed.
“Yeah.”
When the call ended, I closed the wedding spreadsheet.
For the next hour, I did something embarrassingly normal.
I worked.
I answered emails about supplier contracts.
I revised a budget line.
I attended a call where a man named Curtis talked for twelve uninterrupted minutes about freight delays.
Every few minutes, my mind returned to the dress, the video, my mother’s voice.
Then somebody would ask whether I had reviewed a forecast and I would have to drag myself back into percentages.
At eleven-thirty, Emily’s phone remained off.
May you like
At noon, Rachel left for work.
Before leaving, she pointed at both of us.
