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I’m surprised to realize that rift seems to have been restored when I enter the old white church where my father is getting married today.
There are still a couple of hours left before the start of the ceremony. Hallie refused to agree to show up a half hour ahead of time like normal wedding guests. Since she’s my mode of transportation, I didn’t really have a choice except to show up this early too.
Now that we’re inside the church’s lobby, which is bustling with extended family I haven’t seen in years, I get that it might have been a bit awkward for us to show up an hour and a half from now. But not as uncomfortable as having to interact with virtual strangers who share my last name.
“Hallie!” A stout, white-haired woman sweeps my sister up in a hug, crushing the bag containing Hallie’s bridesmaid dress between them.
I watch Hallie surreptitiously shake it as soon as she’s released.
“Where’s Matthew? Both of them!”
“They’re at the park with Matt’s family. They’ll all be here soon. Saylor and I wanted to arrive early so we could help out.”
Big of her to include me in that offer. And Hallie’s also drawn our grandmother’s attention to me.
“Saylor!” She moves forward slightly, then shifts back, and the uncertain motion is worse than a bone-jarring hug. My own grandmother is apprehensive about showing me affection. Maybe I really am the cold-hearted bitch I’ve been called.
“Hi, Grandma. I like your dress,” I lie.
It’s an aggressive shade of periwinkle, accented with what I think is meant to be a fascinator but looks more like a bird nested in her hair that left a few feathers behind. I doubt critiquing her outfit is going to dissipate any of the tension hanging in the air.
“Why, thank you, dear. I got it on sale!” Her thick southern accent emphasizes each syllable.
“Really?” There’s a hint of sarcasm in the word that my grandmother doesn’t catch.
Hallie does, mouthing Stop it at me.
“I hear you’re quite the soccer star, Saylor,” my grandmother says. “If I had your looks, I would just sit around and wait for some handsome fella to sweep me off my feet.”
“How progressive of you,” I reply sweetly.
“We should really go check on some…things.” Hallie smiles. “We’ll see you later, Grandma.” She grips my bicep—she’s stronger than I would have guessed—and pulls me away. “Really, Saylor?”
“I’m not going to apologize for being a feminist. I should sit around and wait for a guy? What decade is this?”
“Grandma went to debutante balls, and our father’s wedding isn’t the right time to lecture on feminism—even if it’s the only time you’re home to talk about anything.”
Great. Another guilt trip. “Am I supposed to apologize for going to college? For pursuing a professional soccer career?”
“Plenty of people go to school and have careers and also keep in touch with their family.”
“Less than you’d think,” I mutter. It’s true. Giving your all—absolutely everything—requires just that: everything. Not worrying about others’ feelings. Not coming home for holidays. Sequestering every ounce of energy and bit of brainpower. “And I’m not interested in being ‘plenty of people.’ I want to be the best.”
Hallie says nothing. No matter our shared experiences—growing up motherless, our father checking out, and a small town that loves to gossip—we’re very different.
Soccer is my escape.
Hallie wants to fix it all, make peace with our past. She married the perfect guy to be a father. She’s the perfect mother. She showed our hometown a Scott woman can be reliable and genuine. She talks to our father and extended family.
I fled as far and fast as I could.
We enter the aisle of the church. I didn’t grow up devout. The last time I was inside a religious building was when I was here for Hallie’s wedding. I glance around at the varnished wood trim, stained glass, and symmetrical pews. The scents of incense and fresh flowers mingle in the air, swirling around our strides toward the altar. Garlands of daisies, peonies, and ranunculus hang along the end of each pew we pass.
“Looks like we missed the decorating,” I state. “Bummer.”
“I’m sure there’s still work to be done,” Hallie informs me. “Let’s go hang up our dresses.”
I heave out a sigh but follow her out of the aisle toward the back of the church.
