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Ebony gives me a little squeeze saying, “I got you, sister,” before sashaying back into the dressing room.
All seems to go fine until we go to the counter to put a rush on the dresses and other wedding apparel. Ebony is getting both dresses—the approved, demure bridal gown, and the no-no dress. Opal is getting the approved dress, but my mom throws a wrench in the gears. Not when she orders her mother of the bride gown, but when she orders another bridesmaid dress, the same size as Opal’s. There’s only one other person I know who has an hourglass body like my friend. My sister, Simone.
“What the hell, mom!” I’m beyond frustrated. My family dynamic is shaky, and adding my sister into the mix isn’t going to add stability until she apologizes to me.
She gives me a pleading look. “I’m only ordering it in case you change your mind. My treat.”
Unbelievable! If she wants to spend her money buying a dress my sister may or may not use, it’s her prerogative.
Irritated, I swipe my credit card. My gift to my mom and the girls was to buy their outfits and shoes for the wedding. Maceo plans to do the same with his half of the wedding party and the ushers. I scrawl my signature before setting my mom straight. “I’m not agreeing to anything until Simone and I hash shit out.”
My mom gives me a small smile. “But you’ll consider it if you two work out your differences?”
Simone and I fought like cats and dogs growing up, but we became best of friends when I graduated high school. A year ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated to ask her to be my maid of honor.
But things changed when she didn’t support me leaving my job for a fresh break from Jacob. She broke my heart, and until my parents came out to Colorado to confront me, I had not heard one peep from her. No phone calls, texts, emails, or messages on social media.Nada!Our one and only phone call in over a year, we argued over my parents moving here.
But she’s my sister…
I’ve already agreed to ask her in my heart if we patch things up—it’s my pride that’s getting in the way.
The sales clerk hands me my wedding dress in its garment bag, and I thank her.
My mom asks one last time. “Jo?”
“Yeah, mom. I’ll consider it,” I say with a resigning sign.
Maybe Maceo’s right. Maybe our wedding will give me my family back, but only if I let them in.
