Kira pointed toward us.
“You’re both stubborn. You both interfere in everything. You both manipulate people when you don’t get your way. Mom, you’ve probably spent more time talking to Betty lately than you have to any of your actual friends.”
I started to answer.
“You don’t understand—”
“No, Mom. You don’t understand.”
Kira’s voice became firm.
“I am marrying Marcus.”
She took his hand.
“You can accept that or you can stay away.”
Then she glanced toward the couch.
Bradley and Rod were still sitting there together.
“Even Dad is drinking beer with Marcus’s father like they’ve known each other for years.”
Bradley awkwardly lifted his bottle.
Kira looked back at me.
“If Dad can get over it, why can’t you?”
I had no answer.
Then she delivered the sentence that finally broke through my pride.
“If you can’t accept us, don’t come to the wedding.”
Marcus looked at Betty.
“That applies to you too, Mom.”
They left.
The house went silent.
Bradley slowly turned off the television.
Then he stood.
“Time to go.”
When he looked at me, I immediately understood what he was feeling.
Disappointment.
But not in Kira.
In me.
During the following week, I called my daughter repeatedly.
I sent messages.
She didn’t answer.
The silence became harder every day.
Then came the night of the rehearsal dinner.
I walked into our bedroom and found Bradley putting on his tie.
“Where are you going?”
“The rehearsal dinner.”
“You can’t go.”
He turned toward me.
His expression was calm.
“My only daughter is getting married.”
He adjusted his collar.
“I’m not missing that because you’re angry.”
Then he walked out.
I remained alone in the bedroom.
