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rich vacationers and brides that cycled through on the island.
    She must have realized I was watching her because she gave her head a shake and pulled on a bright smile that managed to bypass her eyes. “I overheard you and your friend and I got the impression that your mother and mother-in-law were stressing you out about the wedding.”
    Now that I was sitting there, millions of miles away, all of that drama seemed overblown. I blushed, dropping my gaze to my lap. “I guess all mother’s are overbearing, kinda comes with the territory.”
    “Not all mothers.”
    My eyes flickered up and the smile Naomi wore dimmed.
    “Anyway, your friend told me to apologize for her, but your mother found out she’d been in contact with you and told her to give you a message. Your mother wants to speak to you before the ceremony.” She bit her lip guiltily. “I probably should have had this conversation with you before I did the makeup. She gave me a worried look. “You could always call her later. Or not at all. It’s up to you.”
    I peered at he house phone, feeling the tension knot in my chest. Was she going to yell at me for leaving the country without a word? Despite her gung-ho attitude for me finally doing what made me happy, there was no denying she had a tendency to want me to assert myself on her terms. I had a sinking suspicion she wouldn’t have pushed me to speak up for myself if she knew it would result in the bride and groom running away to the Caribbean.
    Naomi swiped the phone. “We can totally do it after then--”
    “Wait.”
    I wrung my hands and remembered the moment in the car when Mom was vulnerable and told me that she felt left out. That she just wanted to be a part of my day. She could be a bit much and sometimes she made me want to pull my hair out, but she was still my mother and I loved her.
    I took the phone and Naomi left the room without another word, pulling the door closed with a muted click.
    I dialed the island code and plunked out my mother’s number, bringing the phone to my ear. It rang countless times and I held my breath, sure I’d hear the voicemail. Be let off the hook.
    I gripped the armrest as the rings stopped and I heard her voice. “Hello?”
    “Mom?”
    The line went quiet, and I almost took it away from my ear to see if it was still connected.
    “Hi sweetheart,” she said finally, her voice unsure. “How are you?”
    Tears built in my eyes and I was overcome with emotion. “I’m getting married.”
    “That’s what I hear.” she chuckled. Neither one of us said anything for a moment and I just listened to her breathe, picturing her standing next to the wall in the kitchen, twirling the phone cord around her finger.
    “I never meant to push you about the wedding, Leila.”
    My heart clenched into a fist. “You didn’t?”
    “I just couldn’t stand that woman railroading you with the ceremony,” she continued. She let out another sigh, one full of sadness of regret. “I tried to help and I ended up railroading you too.”
    “It’s okay, Mom,” I said weakly. “Really.”
    “No it’s not. I’m kinda overbearing.” She snorted. “Hell, I’m being overbearing now and won’t even let you finish a sentence.” She was quiet, giving me the stage to finally speak, but I wasn’t sure what to say.
    “When you were little, you used to come to me and tell me all about how the girls in your class picked on you.”
    I sat back in my chair, a frown pulling the sides of my mouth downward. A childhood of bullying and my mother’s ‘turn the other cheek’ response was the last thing I wanted to think about.
    “It broke my heart to see how hurt you were. To see you doubting yourself and wondering if what those little monsters said was true. And I debated how to tell you to handle them.”
    Her response had always been pacifist, sticks and stones and whatever. The kind of ‘Just ignore them’ approach of someone that never had to deal with bullies attacking them,