Chapter 41
41
Sybil
“This tradition is a little strange, huh?” I helped my sister pull her satin garter up over her knee while the photographer snapped photos and Mom teared up.
Grace lowered her voice. “Mom insisted it was a family tradition. I didn’t want to fight with her over it.”
“What is this even symbolic of? Passing the torch from your sister putting on your underwear to your husband taking it off?” I paused as the photographer requested and looked up at Grace. Her hair was arranged loosely on top of her head. The makeup artist had made her look understated and somehow showstopping, too. Her dress hung in the window nearby, and we were both wrapped in satin robes, like the other bridesmaids. “But for the record, I’m honored to put on your underwear. You’re beautiful, Grace.” I studied her smile—since she was a type A overachiever with a slight God complex, I thought she’d be pinging left and right, but she’d been relaxed all day. “You look happy.”
“So do you,” she said, searching my face. My hair was loose, the curls held back with a pearl headband she had given me. “You’ve seemed happier the last few months.”
“Well,” I said, standing when the photographer signaled she had what she needed. “I won the lottery.” I smoothed down the front of my robe for no other reason than wanting to do something with my hands. “That helps.”
“It’s not that.” Grace adjusted the garter above her knee, shifting it from where I’d placed it. So still somewhat my same sister. “It’s him. You and him. Seems like this guy really came into your life at the right time.” Grace rested her palms on my biceps. “And I love that for you.” She pulled me into an embrace, the smell of her perfume surrounding me as the emotional punch of her words hit me somewhere near my solar plexus, because that was exactly how I’d felt at the zoo, though now I couldn’t stop spiraling about Kieran giving up medical school to stay with me, even for a year.
“Thank you,” I said, blinking back tears because I wasn’t going to do this here, and also I wasn’t confident in the water resistance of my makeup, despite the cosmetologist’s assurances. The reality was, our three months were supposed to end today, and even though I wanted us to be Twinkies, I worried we were still more like soft cheese—a limited-time engagement.
One of Grace’s bridesmaids called her over to the other side of the suite, and Mom wrapped an arm around me the moment Grace stepped away. She was already in her light blue, floor-length dress, the custom handkerchief with the extra lace from Grandma’s dress in her hand. “I can’t believe it,” she said, tugging me close.
“That Grace is getting married?”
“No,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “That both my girls are happy and thriving and in love at the same time.” She tucked the handkerchief away and dropped a kiss against the side of my head. “And she’s right—you’re different since you started dating Kieran.”
“You mean I actually show up at your place on time for once?”
She laughed. “Well, that is new.” She stroked a hand along the neckline of my dress, hanging on a hook near Grace’s. “No, you’re more…” She studied my face, and the familiar guilt bubbled up again. “I don’t know exactly, but you’re more you. More confident you can do anything. I know I’ve had my suspicions about him, but I think he maybe helped you see that about yourself, and for that reason alone, I’m beginning to trust his intentions.”
I would never have put it in those words. I’d spent so many years hearing how I’d done things wrong that I’d stopped doing things altogether. I’d only paid attention to the habit because of Kieran.
“I had my doubts, but I think you might go the distance with that boy. And for that I’m thankful.” She adjusted my headband, and I inhaled her perfume. “I was telling Janice all about the birthday party at the zoo, and she couldn’t believe it. You know I had to brag about what a great job you did. I told her about how you pulled together all the community organizations and how that morning show wants you on again to talk about fundraising. We ended up being late for our spin class!” She chuckled, and it was funny. I could count on one hand the number of times Mom had been late for anything.
“Those are the stories you told her?”
“Of course! What else would I tell her?”
“I don’t know,” I said, toying with the necklace hanging around my neck. “Maybe about how I ordered way too much cake and ended up with frosting all over me because I tried to carry it myself.” Mom’s expression shifted and I hurried on, not wanting her to feel bad. “That was a pretty funny story,” I added. “Those are just usually the ones you like to share.”
“Sybil Marie Sweet,” she said, touching her fingers to her jawline, something she did when she was pushing back emotion. Some people covered their mouths or eyes, but that would ruin her carefully applied makeup, and that wasn’t an option.
I braced for the lecture that usually followed the use of my full name.
But she just said, “You’re right. I do tell those kinds of stories about you.” Her voice fell into resignation. “Probably far too often.”
“It’s…” I started the sentence planning to end it with “not a big deal,” but the words felt bitter on my tongue. “It actually really bothers me,” I admitted. “I’ve always wanted to be someone you were…I don’t know, someone you felt you could brag about instead of laugh about.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Sybil.”
“I know you don’t mean to make me feel bad, but it does. So hearing you say you were telling Janice about the good work I did…well, that felt good. It felt like you were proud of me.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” She pulled me into a hug, her arms tight around me as I blinked back tears, telling her the truth feeling like a weight being lifted. “I’ve always been proud of you.” She hugged me again, and when we finally broke apart, she grabbed for a nearby tissue box.
Dabbing at her eyes, she motioned to Grace across the room, where Warren’s sister was helping her to fasten her necklace. “Your dad sent her that, did you know that?” She touched the bracelet on her wrist, the one I’d given her. “And a nice note about how he understood why he wasn’t invited, that he wants to start trying to be there more for you girls. He told me he’s been getting some counseling, which has helped some things fall into place for him. I know he wants to be in your lives again. To get to know you.” She smiled at Grace and then me. “I’d like that. I think you’d enjoy knowing him as an adult. You’re a lot like him.”
“I know,” I said, “unreliable, bouncing from job to job, flighty, but—”
“No,” Mom said, holding up a hand. “No. I meant creative, empathetic, charming, energetic, curious, and absolutely dogged when you believe in something. Those are the reasons I fell in love with him in the first place, the reasons I had children with him. I don’t think I always appreciated those things about your father when we were together, but they were all there.” She held both of my biceps. “All that is to say, the stories I should tell are ones that highlight those traits, because that is what I see in you. Those are the things I’ve always seen in you.”
I fanned at my face as the tears welled in my eyes. “You have? I always felt like you guys thought I’d end up being like him. Absent.”
“Never.” She pulled me into a hug. “But you also have something your dad didn’t have.”
“Millions of dollars? A really fantastic ass?”
“Oh, his butt was a thing of beauty. The way that man looked in sweatpants!” Mom said with a laugh, and gave me another squeeze. “But what I meant was that you’re with a partner who truly believes in you, who sees all the amazing things about you that shine and helps you see them in yourself, and I am so happy you do, because for all your father’s faults, and they were many, I didn’t pay enough attention to the parts that shined, and I think Kieran does with you. And I think you’re two people who are going to really care for each other.”
Grace approached us, concern on her face, and I dabbed at my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I accepted the tissue she handed me, blotting the corners of my eyes. “Nothing. Mom was telling me how nice dad’s ass used to look in sweatpants,” I said through a laugh, earning a gentle shove from my mom.
“I said ‘butt,’?” she added, dabbing at her own eyes. “Don’t be crass.”
“I…don’t even want to know,” Grace said, shooting me a curious look. “The photographer is about ready for us, Mom.”
They posed together for a few photos, and I found a mirror to inspect my mascara, which still looked good, though inside I was a mess of emotions as I thought about Mom’s words. Kieran did believe in me and see me, in all the ways that really mattered. I replayed all the little moments where he’d cheered me on, and I took a deep breath to try to compose myself. Despite the happy butterflies all those memories gave me, something had been eating at me since Kieran told me he’d requested to defer his reenrollment. When Mom brought up taking care of each other, it was a reminder that I’d made the right choice and hoped I’d done enough.
I looked at my phone screen, where a series of texts were waiting from Emi.
Emi: Did you tell him you’ll move to Texas with him yet?
I blew out a slow breath, because the idea of leaving home threatened to ruin my eye makeup, but I knew in my heart it was the right thing. I couldn’t keep him from his dream, and I didn’t want to give up on us. I knew she’d talk me out of the other part of my plan, the plan to ensure the committee would approve his request to defer. But if it didn’t work, I’d move with him.
Emi: Also, Marcus just asked me for advice on asking someone out. WHO IS MARCUS ASKING OUT?
Emi: And give Grace a big hug for me.
Sybil: I have no idea who Marcus is seeing but be thankful he can get over you.
Sybil: And not yet—after the wedding, I think!
Sybil: And if you ever get married, can you promise I don’t have to help you with a garter?
Emi: If I ever get married, I think I’d want something much more interesting under my dress.
Sybil: Well, obviously I’d help you with a wedding strap-on
Emi: This is why we’re friends.
Emi: Know yet what you’re going to say to him?
I had no idea, but Mom was pointing to her watch from the other side of the room, her short-lived moment of chill gone, and I set my phone aside, reaching for my dress. I had a few “I dos” and Pachelbel’s Canon in D to figure out what to say to Kieran when I told him he didn’t need to choose between school and me.