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“I gave birth to you, sure.” She laughs bitterly. “I shouldn’t have let Giorgis knock me up the first time. Can’t call it a shotgun wedding, not with how elaborate it was, but if not for you… I might have been able to call things off. I really thought a baby would bring us closer. That he’d stop being so controlling once he had a child.”
I stare at her in stunned shock. There aren’t words to express how upset I am at her callousness, but I don’t have time to dwell on it. I grab a few tissues and hand them to Vanessa so she can dab at her eyes, giving myself something to do while I try to figure out how to respond to her.
“You don’t have to be a bitter old hag about it,” I finally say, more pissed off that she’s making Vanessa cry than from anything she’s saying.
My mother laughs. “I’ve got twenty-four years of bitterness I’ve had to bury. It’s almost funny, watching you about to enter the same hell I’ve been in.” She extends her arm to me. “I think it’s time. Wouldn’t want to be late for your own wedding.”
“Go on and catch up with the other bridesmaids,” I tell Vanessa, watching as she tries to fix her eye makeup. I don’t know any of the others, but I know they’ll be waiting. They’re all Pavone’s relatives or friends’ wives; I wasn’t dragging anyone I knew into this disaster by choice.
Vanessa nods to me, avoiding looking at our mother, and leaves the room.
I don’t say anything, not wanting to risk the tightly leashed emotions I’m feeling getting out. I want to scream and shout and truly throw a temper tantrum worthy of a five-year-old, but I keep myself calm and collected.
The music starts, and I take a deep breath. The procession begins, and anger and despair fill me as we go to join the others. I have to grab my mom’s arm to hold her mostly upright, but getting down the aisle while also supporting her is going to be difficult.
I pull the veil over my face, glad for the chance to hide my expression behind the exquisite fabric, and I grab the elaborate bouquet of flowers on my way to the aisle.
I barely recognize any of the guests. A few of them are friends or acquaintances of my father’s, but for the most part they’re complete strangers. Out of towners, brought in by Pavone. I wish the last minute nature of the wedding had meant fewer people attending, but even after Victor’s little stunt, the pews are full.
His stunt, which is the reason I’m even walking down the aisle in the first place.
Fuck. My eyes start to burn with unshed tears. I don’t know why I thought I could rely on Victor, Angelo, and Saint. They’d already proven to me how little I was worth to them. Victor had proven to me that I was never going to be their equal. I was their toy, not somebody they cared about.
But it still hurts.
I shouldn’t be here, in front of hundreds of strangers, about to be tied to one of the worst men in existence.
It could be worse, I try to tell myself. Vanessa is still fine. Even my mother is fine, and maybe shewillleave when this is all over, but she could have been a stain on the carpet alongside my father.
I can handle being married to Pavone.
I can handle it.
Getting up the stairs to the altar takes more coordination than I thought, since my mother is dragging her drunken feet. But we make it, and I’m left standing next to Pavone in front of the priest.
The priest is smiling brightly, like he really doesn’t suspect that I’m here against my will.
“Dearly beloved! We’re gathered here today…”
His droning goes on, and I stare at Pavone from behind my veil. He looks as smug as ever, so sure that everything is going his way, and I’m tempted to embarrass him and call the whole thing off right here at the altar.
But Vanessa is standing a few feet away, a constant reminder of why I have to go through with this. Even more so than myself, I have to protect her.
My mother can handle herself, as she’s made it perfectly clear, so fuck her. But Vanessa doesn’t need to be thrown to the wolves. She deserves better.
Which means marrying Pavone.
The priest tells some anecdote which must be amusing, since the guests chuckle. Then all of our gathered procession read bible passages. Vanessa’s voice shakes while she recites one about a wife’s duties. The rehearsal yesterday hadn’t helped her not stumble over her words.
It’s ironic, that a man like Pavone, so entrenched in the business of murder, insisted on a religious wedding. Does he think this will absolve him from his sins?
My ankles are starting to get sore from standing in these heels for so long when the priest finally moves on to the vows.
“Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to each other in marriage?” the priest asks.
Pavone grins. “Yes.”
“Yes,” I lie flatly. I would love to tell the truth, but I’m sure that would only end with bullets riddling my torso.
