Twenty-Two Germaine
Twenty-Two
Germaine
2028
Germaine yanks her hand away from her mouth and balls it into a fist when she realizes she’s chewing on her nails again. Not this weekend. She is going to keep it together. If she can slip away, she’ll go and see how Sicily is doing. But now she has to get the most unpleasant task over with—greeting her family.
She’s allowed them to come to the wedding and even designated a small amount of time tonight so they could say hello in the hotel bar, because she’s trying to be the bigger person. She really is. At arm’s length, though.
Germaine adjusts her martini on the high-top before her as though it will serve as a protective barrier.
But, luckily, the first person to come into the bar is Justin, not her parents. She relaxes at the sight of him—his quiet confidence and easy smile when he sees her. He’s incredibly handsome in a starched cotton shirt and twill chinos, a casual dark brown; his black hair, thin at the back, is just beginning to take on a salt-and-pepper tinge. But he’s full of energy and aging well.
“Hey,” he says, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing her cheek. “You okay? You ready for this?”
“It’s been a long day already. But of course.” Germaine shakes her head like it’s nothing. But Justin squeezes her hand—he knows this is hard on her.
Germaine shifts her weight to both feet, standing up straighter as she sees her father approach, her mother on his arm, expressions just as disdainful as Germaine expected. They join Germaine and Justin at the table and nod a greeting.
“Hi,” Germaine says. “Thanks for coming.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Terence says, trying to be civil.
“It’s good to see you both.” Justin smiles wide, shaking Terence’s hand and reaching out for a hug from Céline, but she ignores him. So he pats her on the shoulder instead and tries to play it off like he was signaling a waiter.
At least this isn’t the first time he’s meeting her family. Germaine had the foresight to plan a get-together several months ago, after their engagement, so all that tension would be out of the way before the wedding. Justin had handled it all beautifully—the gibes about Germaine’s career as a DJ (not a real job), the disregard for Justin’s work (tacky), the many not-so-subtle digs about the childhood he spent in the back of his parents’ dry-cleaning business in Buena Park while Germaine had been riding horses in Switzerland.
But he bore it all with grace, not taking her parents’ bait or lying down as their punching bag, but turning each jab around into a self-deprecating joke about how he has a knack for getting any stain out of his Dolce they’ve been locked out of every aspect of the planning. Germaine took no money from them, no advice. When she went dress shopping, it was with Sicily, Miranda, and Justin’s mom—in Paris! If her own parents are going to spend the entire time looking annoyed anyway, why try to please them?
As the cocktail party winds down and the guests begin to retreat to their villas, Germaine bids good night to her family and heads with Justin toward their suite.
She doesn’t know why she casts one glance backward at the end of the veranda, watching them retreat. Why should she wish they could be happy for her? She has worked hard to overcome this feeling she’s had all her life—the desire, the need for their love. She’s punishing them by making them mere guests at her wedding, so why is she the one who feels pain?
Whatever the reason, as Germaine looks back, she catches her mother doing the same.