Chapter Twenty-Two #2
A discussion ensues in true Flynn-sibling fashion, full of rapid-fire advice that doesn’t take all the nuances into consideration, nuances most of my siblings don’t know or understand.
I let it carry on around me as we finish dressing so we can proceed with the afternoon’s agenda before our mother barges in and demands to be looped into the conversation.
I make my siblings promise to let me be the first to discuss the intellectual property rights with our mom.
Then we all step into the main room. Riley takes a seat next to Emil, and their hands automatically slide into a loving hold.
The rest of us take turns on a small dais while our mother nixes every dress for one reason or another and we move on to round two.
And round three.
And round four.
And round five.
By round eight or nine, Riley’s hanging his head in his hands, peering through the gaps between his fingers, while Emil rubs his back and maintains a polite smile, though the strain is starting to show around his eyes.
They’re both being good sports, letting our mom be the center of attention for a wedding that isn’t hers, but when she pulls out her third mood board, this one with an array of peaches and pinks, even the clerks look like they’re barely keeping it together.
After changing again, the four of us stand in a line, now clad neck to ankle in soft pinks that do none of our sun-deprived winter complexions any favors.
“I don’t know.” Our mom taps her chin with her index finger, giving us all a thorough once-over.
“If Louisa would stand up straight, we might get a better sense of the silhouette. And nothing works with all of Haley’s tattoos.
Why she had to do that to her beautiful body is still beyond me.
Eleanor’s figure is better suited for something with structure, and a shape like that might work on Philippa if we pad her out in the right places. Hard to say without—”
“Oh, for god’s sake!” Riley erupts.
We all go dead still, even our mom, though as her shock softens, she turns to face him.
“Something you want to say?” she asks.
Riley throws back his head, his expression pained. “Just let them wear what they want.”
Our mom blinks at him like he’s lost his mind. “But it’s your wedding.”
“Exactly.” He rubs his face with both hands before meeting her eyes.
“It’s our wedding. Mine and Emil’s. Not yours.
And we don’t give two fucks what our bridesmaids wear or if we even have bridesmaids.
All we want is a gathering of family and friends to witness us make a pledge to each other, and to celebrate that pledge afterward.
That’s it. That’s all. And maybe cake. Because everyone likes cake.
But fuck this. Fuck all of it. I can’t do it anymore, Mom.
I’m grateful you’ve booked us a location.
It looks amazing, but I can’t keep listening to you pick at my sisters because they don’t look good enough in dresses they don’t even want to wear. ”
Jaws drop. Gasps escape. Louisa mutters a barely audible Holy shit. Haley takes hold of my hand. We all stare at our mother like we’re waiting for a volcano to blow.
Her face is flushed, but she pastes on a smile as she clasps her hands in her lap, crosses her ankles, and steals a look at the clerks, who are desperately trying to appear busy.
“Why didn’t you just say that?” she pushes out, her tone polite but her jaw tight.
“I did. We tried.” Riley takes Emil’s hand and draws it into his lap. “You didn’t listen.”
Our mom’s jaw works as though she’s replaying old conversations, searching for evidence that he’s wrong, that he never told her anything.
I’m sure he did tell her, but she’s a force of nature, and he’s a force of sweetness and light.
In fact, I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard him say fuck.
It’s definitely the first time I’ve heard him stand up to our mom like this.
She turns to the four of us. “Anyone else have something they want to tell me?”
We all exchange nervous looks, as though we’re wondering if anyone’s brave enough. I’m not sure I am, but before I can decide, Eleanor throws up her hands and steps forward.
“Joshua is too old for the toys you keep giving him. He wants to be treated like a seven-year-old and not like a baby. Willow is very particular about how her clothes fit, so please stop buying those, too. She doesn’t like what you give her, and she gets very stressed about having to pretend when you keep asking her about them.
And Aiden didn’t make the softball team or the soccer team or the basketball team, so the less you keep talking about sports to him, the better. ”
Our mom reels in surprise, but before she can react, Haley steps forward.
“Mischa got laid off last month. He’s enjoying being a stay-at-home dad for now, but we’re still figuring out what it means for us, and that might include selling our house.”
I draw her into a side hug, much like she did for me earlier. “I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs in my embrace, and as our mom opens her mouth to reply, Louisa jumps in.
“Reuben and I eloped in Las Vegas on New Year’s Eve!”
Chaos erupts, sputters of astonishment mixed with hugs and congratulations.
This is officially the weirdest family gathering I’ve ever been part of.
It’s also incredibly cathartic, seeing perfect facades crumble as everyone admits something they’ve been holding back, not wanting to hurt our mother’s feelings and not wanting to deal with the inevitable fallout.
As the noise and shuffling peter out, all eyes turn to me.
“Well?” our mom asks me. “I assume you have something to say, too.”
I do, of course, and so, bolstered by the support of my siblings, I go ahead and tell her about Grams’s notebooks, the conversation with Kate, and the dream Dylan and I share.
When I finish, she looks at each of us in turn.
Riley, Eleanor, Haley, Louisa, and me.
Then she grabs her purse and marches out of the bridal salon.