twenty?”
“Personally, I’d go for the groom.”
“Maybe she already has.”
“Have you seen the bride’s dress? She looks like Michael Jackson marrying Elvis.”
When they got to the bride, the two crows cawed, “Darling, you look divine,” and smothered her with perfume and Judas kisses.
Desiree turned to stone. The groom smiled through clenched capped teeth.
At last, the receiving line ended. The guests who hadn’t fled picked up beribboned baskets of rose petals and straggled out to the cathedral steps. They threw the petals at the bride and groom like they were flinging trash, then rushed away. Helen couldn’t bring herself to touch the mangled flowers. The petals looked like blood spots on the marble steps.
Jeff seemed near tears at his ruined wedding plans, but he pulled himself together and herded the wedding party inside for the pictures. Kiki still hadn’t shown up.
Helen was furious. It felt good. It burned away her sadness for the bride. How could that selfish woman destroy her daughter’s wedding for a backseat quickie? Except Kiki’s quickie was turning into a sexual marathon. The Rolls sat in the parking lot, engine running, windows up. Helen wanted to knock on the black-tinted windows and drag Kiki out by her dyed hair, but it was not her place.
No one from the family approached the car. Helen wondered why.
Emily stayed with her friend, Desiree. The blond bridesmaid Lisa pulled Helen aside and said, “Do you know where the mother of the bride is?”
Her eyes strayed to the Rolls. Lisa already knew the answer.
“No,” Helen lied.
“Do you know when she’ll be coming?” Lisa’s face turned bright red. “I mean, when she’ll be here?”
“I have no idea,” Helen said.
Helen knew exactly when Kiki would appear. She’d wait until Desiree was changing for the reception. Then Kiki would put on that blasted rose gown and make her grand entrance at the reception, glowing from her sexual athletics. She’d revel in the scandal.
Helen also knew why Kiki had pulled this stunt. Her daughter was marrying a handsome young man, but she’d show them she was still one hot mama.
Her absence had an impact on the pictures. The photographer and the videographer had to work around the lopsided wedding party. The bride refused to smile. The groom looked like a department-store dummy. The rest of the wedding party fidgeted like four-year-olds. The photos took two hours, including time out for powdering and hair pinning. Helen thought she would go mad if she had to drape Desiree’s cathedral train on the altar steps one more time.
Finally, every photo opportunity was exhausted, along with every member of the wedding party.
“The photos are finished,” the videographer pronounced.
Desiree brightened. She managed a smile, although it resembled a corpse’s grin. “Now I can wear my real wedding dress.”
Desiree ripped off her heavy veil and crown and dropped them on the floor. Then she ran upstairs to the dressing room.
That’s right, girl, Helen thought. Get rid of what’s dragging you down. She picked up the crown and veil and followed Desiree at a slower pace. She was drained by the wedding’s raw emotions. Helen’s magical night with Phil seemed years away. Today she could not believe any romance had a happy ending.
Memories of her own wedding haunted Helen. She’d been so in love with Rob. At the reception, she’d given him a bite of wedding cake. He’d mashed his piece into her face, to the delight of his cronies. Her maid of honor had applauded. Helen had laughed.
Her wedding photographer caught the scene. Helen thought it was the symbol of her marriage. She had seventeen years of sly humiliation, while she smiled and took it. Later, she learned Rob had had an affair with her maid of honor. She’d learned a lot she didn’t want to know, after she picked up the crowbar and smashed her marriage.
Run, Desiree, she thought. Run away before it’s too late. Luke doesn’t
“Personally, I’d go for the groom.”
“Maybe she already has.”
“Have you seen the bride’s dress? She looks like Michael Jackson marrying Elvis.”
When they got to the bride, the two crows cawed, “Darling, you look divine,” and smothered her with perfume and Judas kisses.
Desiree turned to stone. The groom smiled through clenched capped teeth.
At last, the receiving line ended. The guests who hadn’t fled picked up beribboned baskets of rose petals and straggled out to the cathedral steps. They threw the petals at the bride and groom like they were flinging trash, then rushed away. Helen couldn’t bring herself to touch the mangled flowers. The petals looked like blood spots on the marble steps.
Jeff seemed near tears at his ruined wedding plans, but he pulled himself together and herded the wedding party inside for the pictures. Kiki still hadn’t shown up.
Helen was furious. It felt good. It burned away her sadness for the bride. How could that selfish woman destroy her daughter’s wedding for a backseat quickie? Except Kiki’s quickie was turning into a sexual marathon. The Rolls sat in the parking lot, engine running, windows up. Helen wanted to knock on the black-tinted windows and drag Kiki out by her dyed hair, but it was not her place.
No one from the family approached the car. Helen wondered why.
Emily stayed with her friend, Desiree. The blond bridesmaid Lisa pulled Helen aside and said, “Do you know where the mother of the bride is?”
Her eyes strayed to the Rolls. Lisa already knew the answer.
“No,” Helen lied.
“Do you know when she’ll be coming?” Lisa’s face turned bright red. “I mean, when she’ll be here?”
“I have no idea,” Helen said.
Helen knew exactly when Kiki would appear. She’d wait until Desiree was changing for the reception. Then Kiki would put on that blasted rose gown and make her grand entrance at the reception, glowing from her sexual athletics. She’d revel in the scandal.
Helen also knew why Kiki had pulled this stunt. Her daughter was marrying a handsome young man, but she’d show them she was still one hot mama.
Her absence had an impact on the pictures. The photographer and the videographer had to work around the lopsided wedding party. The bride refused to smile. The groom looked like a department-store dummy. The rest of the wedding party fidgeted like four-year-olds. The photos took two hours, including time out for powdering and hair pinning. Helen thought she would go mad if she had to drape Desiree’s cathedral train on the altar steps one more time.
Finally, every photo opportunity was exhausted, along with every member of the wedding party.
“The photos are finished,” the videographer pronounced.
Desiree brightened. She managed a smile, although it resembled a corpse’s grin. “Now I can wear my real wedding dress.”
Desiree ripped off her heavy veil and crown and dropped them on the floor. Then she ran upstairs to the dressing room.
That’s right, girl, Helen thought. Get rid of what’s dragging you down. She picked up the crown and veil and followed Desiree at a slower pace. She was drained by the wedding’s raw emotions. Helen’s magical night with Phil seemed years away. Today she could not believe any romance had a happy ending.
Memories of her own wedding haunted Helen. She’d been so in love with Rob. At the reception, she’d given him a bite of wedding cake. He’d mashed his piece into her face, to the delight of his cronies. Her maid of honor had applauded. Helen had laughed.
Her wedding photographer caught the scene. Helen thought it was the symbol of her marriage. She had seventeen years of sly humiliation, while she smiled and took it. Later, she learned Rob had had an affair with her maid of honor. She’d learned a lot she didn’t want to know, after she picked up the crowbar and smashed her marriage.
Run, Desiree, she thought. Run away before it’s too late. Luke doesn’t
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