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“We can talk about this later, in private. I think we should all go to brunch and finish celebrating our engagement and your father’s announcement.”
I nod with a sigh. This discussion is far from over, but Brad and I have never had an argument, and I don’t want the first one to be in front of my parents.
Brunch is a tense affair, at least for me. Dad and Brad have no issue discussing Dad’s retirement or the wedding being televised, totally disregarding what I said back at the church. Mom attempts to engage me in the conversation, but I refuse to contribute. Is it childish? Probably, but I don’t care. If Brad and I are going to get married, then I expect him to be a partner and not make decisions that affect me without consulting me first.
The car is silent when we drive back to my apartment. My mind races as I think about the best approach to discuss my feelings about becoming a public spectacle with Brad. I settle on explaining to him that I don’t like being in the limelight and that our wedding should be for close family and friends, not complete strangers. All I want is a small intimate affair. Surely, he’ll understand.
When we enter my apartment twenty minutes later, I’m ready to talk to him.
“Brad, I wan—”
“You what? Want to apologize to me for embarrassing me in front of your parents?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “I mean, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“You didn’t mean to?” he snaps, his voice rising again. “You didn’t mean to?”
I take a deep breath before I respond. “No, I didn’t. I was taken by surprise with the wedding being televised and then with my dad announcing his retirement. I had no idea any of this was happening.”
“Your father and I decided that the day I asked him for your hand in marriage.”
“Exactly, you both decided.” I motion between us. “Weshould have decided that. Not you and my father.”
“Violet, you’re acting like a spoiled brat.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re acting as if the world revolves around you and only what you want.” His voice gets louder with each word.
“I don’t think that the world revolves around me,” I yell. “I thought we could have amatureconversation, but I was wrong.”
I turn on my heel to head toward the kitchen and get a drink of water.
“Don’t turn your back on me,” Brad yells. “We aren’t done talking yet.”
Suddenly, I’m whipped around and slammed into the wall. I hit so hard that the wind is knocked out of me.
“Oomph.”
Tears pool in my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. I struggle to remain standing, and Brad scoops me up and carries me over to the couch, where he sets me down gently.
“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry,” he croons, rubbing my back soothingly. “I didn’t mean for you to hit the wall. I just wanted to finish talking.”
I take a couple of deep breaths. “I think you need to leave,” I whisper.
“It was an accident,” he insists. “Please forgive me.”
“It’s been a long day,” I say. “I think we both need some space.”
“I don’t want to leave you like this.”
“I’m fine.” I rub my head in an attempt to ward off the oncoming migraine. “I have some homework to finish, and I think it would be best if we talked when we’re both calmer.”
“Fine.” He stands and pulls me to my feet so he can hug me properly. “I’m so sorry, Violet. I love you. I never wanted you to get hurt.”
“I love you too, but I think we both need to regroup,” I reply.
“I’ll text you later.”
