Chapter 11
Kyle
Hot water drizzles down my body as I lean against the wall of the shower, wondering what would happen if I just stayed like this until the moment of the wedding.
Madison couldn’t possibly handle the humiliation of being jilted at the altar, and she’d drop me like a hot potato.
Everyone would be embarrassed, and the whole county would talk about this for months to come, but at least I’d have no way back.
I’d be free again.
I flinch when someone knocks at my door, and it doesn’t help when my mother speaks from the other side. “You’re wasting water.”
I rub my forehead against the tile. “We’re not the ones paying for extra water.”
“Waste is waste. Come out.”
She leaves me be for now, but I know the peace and quiet can’t last long.
It’s time to face reality. Since leaving this moment of peaceful solitude might be close to impossible without a nudge, I turn the temperature handle.
The warm droplets turn to ice, and moments later, my body is shaking as I struggle to catch my breath.
I better be ready for anything today.
I shudder while wiping my numb body with a white towel, before tying it around my waist and entering my bedroom. There’s a mirror on the wall, but I’m afraid to face myself right now.
My mother gets up from the bed, putting down her book.
She’s wearing a simple purple dress, and her graying hair has been refreshed with a coat of brown similar to its former natural shade.
She’s even wearing a bit of makeup, though her pronounced wrinkles and a complexion darkened from working outside reveal the real woman hidden under finery she rarely allows herself.
Mom has had a hard life, raising three children on her own and keeping the family business prosperous. For a woman with baggage this heavy, the uncertainty I feel about my own sexuality and getting married are just wrinkles in need of smoothing out. So I stay still as she watches me in silence.
“You need to dry your hair before you put on the suit,” she says in the end, folding her arms.
I exhale, itching to tell her off for always reminding me of the obvious, as if I’m a child in need of constant guidance. But instead, I nod, because she always means well, regardless of how much her behavior irritates me.
She sighs before approaching the tobacco brown suit hanging from a hook on the wall. “You really should have taken me shopping. What if someone sees it on you and thinks of dirt, or worse, diarrhea?”
I’m speechless, but this isn’t the time to argue. And it’s not like responding to her criticism with my honest thoughts has ever worked in my favor. “I like it.”
“Cream would have been a much better choice,” she continues as if she hasn’t heard me, “Your dad wore cream on our wedding day. He looked so dashing,” she finishes with a soft exhale.
Unlike me in my wedding suit, apparently.
“Madison wanted this color. She said it softened the look.” Whatever that meant, because I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Mom sighs. “I suppose it’s her day, her choice. If the suit fits well, no one should be complaining.”
She doesn’t even notice she’s suggested it’s not my day, but that has been obvious to me since the wedding preparations started.
Early on, Madison even agreed to making Jekyll a part of the ceremony, but two months ago, when I tried to work out a plan for that, in order to train my dog, Madison told me it was tacky to have a dog as the ringbearer, and that was that.
It didn’t seem important at the time, but now that Jekyll was at my friend’s to “not interfere with the celebration”, I was regretting my choice to give in.
A violent knocking on the door makes me flinch, but then my bride bursts inside without waiting to be invited.
She’s beautiful is even in the plain silk robe she’s wearing, and I think her hair looks lovely in gentle waves, but those things can’t sweeten the scowl on her face.
“Answer your phone!” she yells before anyone else can speak.
“I was in the shower,” I say, pointing to the towel around my waist.
Mom clears her throat, and Madison flinches, only noticing her presence now. After a second of tense silence, my bride hunches forward and entwines her hands as if she were about to say grace.
“I—I’m sorry Mrs. Hone. I shouldn’t be raising my voice. It’s just that I’m so stressed about things working out the way they should.”
Funny how I, apparently, don’t deserve an apology. I suppose as the bride, she is under huge pressure, so I let that slide too and grab a small clean towel to rub water out of my hair.
“So I wanted to make sure you have everything before I go get dressed,” she says and walks up to my suit.
The prolonged silence tells me something’s off. Madison is looking for a way to voice her complaint with my mother present, but Mom beats her to the punch.
“I’ve been telling him he needs to get ready faster, since the hairdresser might have limited time.”
“Mom, I know how to style my own hair,” I say.
She measures me with a heavy stare. “Would your bride agree with that?”
But Madison is still staring at the suit, and since she never voiced any complaints about my hair, I know there’s another piece of dung flying my way soon. She takes a deep breath and faces me with a mouth twitching from withheld anger.
“Remember when I agreed to your dog staying here until the wedding?”
A cold sensation trails down my spine. “Yeah? I already had Doug drive Jekyll to his aunt’s place.”
“But you let him roll all over your wedding suit before that happened, apparently. Look at all this hair!” she says, grabbing the hem of the jacket and presenting it to me.
I see nothing. “What? No? I kept it in the closet until earlier today?”
“Then what is this?” she asks in a harder voice.
I approach Madison under Mom’s watchful eye. Okay, there are some little hairs stuck to the fabric, but you’d have to stare at it from up close to notice them in the first place.
“Oh come on—”
“Holden will be doing closeups of us, and I don’t want you looking like a slob on the most important day in our lives!” Madison hisses, revealing her even, white teeth. "When we live together, that dog is never coming into the bedroom."
I dare to meet her eyes despite my mother’s presence. “This wedding is bringing out the worst in you.”
Madison’s eyes go wide and her cheeks become ripe tomatoes. “Well, it’s a good thing it will be over by tomorrow then,” she says and storms off. “I’m sorry you had to witness this Mrs. Hone. Kyle, the lint roller is in the drawer of the desk.”
She slams the door on her way out so hard the noise echoes in my skull.
“That girl is so particular about things,” Mom says, and while she’s never been a fancy girl like Madison and spends her days around the horses, I’m surprised that she’s on my side when it comes to this.
“Yes. We argue more and more. I suppose I’m used to the kind of woman who gets things done and isn’t afraid of a bit of dust,” I say, discreetly watching Mom from the corner of my eye. Maybe if I softened the blow with an indirect compliment, she’d be open to discussing my growing doubts?
Mom grabs the lint roller herself though, as if it’s a point of her pride to make sure her son is a pristine Ken doll. “Well, with the money her family has, she never needed to get dirty, so I guess it’s a blessing.”
“I’m not sure I can live up to her standards,” I say softly as confidence drains out of me at a rapid pace.
Mom starts working the lint roller over my outfit. “Deciding you’re good enough is always a failure. We should all try to better ourselves constantly.”
Of course that’s her motto. No wonder nothing I do is good enough for her either. Still, this is the last moment to back out, and if I had her support, maybe I could do it.
“What I’m saying is that this might be a mistake. I proposed too fast, and now that I saw more of Madison’s personality, I’m not sure she’s the one,” I whisper, fighting the choking sensation in my throat.
The silence following my words is like a void about to swallow me whole, but then Mom speaks, pinning me to the wall with the heat of her brown gaze.
“That girl is the best thing that ever happened to you. Her father already said he’d help you get the degree you want.
You will have a much better life than anyone in this family ever had, and you want to throw that away?
” A mean smile tugs at her mouth. “I think we both know what this really is about, so don’t blame that poor girl for your own failings. ”
My heart freezes because she doesn’t need to be explicit for both of us to understand her meaning. “But—”
Mom silences me with a gesture. “No ‘buts’! Think of the life your children will get to have thanks to that girl. You should be worshiping the ground she walks on. There. Get dressed, I’ve had enough of your nonsense,” she says, presenting me with the pristine suit.
I make myself nod, even though the walls seem to move closer, about to squish me into the mold everyone wants me to embody.
I say nothing as Mom leaves, but as soon as she’s gone, the sense of doom that’s been growing in the background is suddenly right upon me, and I rest against the wall, trying to calm my breath as the floor shakes under my bare feet.
I know nothing can physically stop me from putting on regular clothes, getting into my car, and driving off, but if I do that, my life will be over.
Mom would never speak to me again, and whatever dreams I have about a happy family, big Christmas dinners, and gathering together each Sunday could never be salvaged.
My freedom is theoretical.
So I put my numb limbs into motion, pull on my socks, my pants, the shirt. Each garment brings me closer to marrying Madison, and the tie feels like a noose about to extinguish my life. I have to take a deep breath after putting on the suit jacket.
She’s just a bridezilla, I tell myself. It’s just the wedding that drove her crazy. Remember how nice it was when you first met her?
But when there’s a knock at the door, I flinch as if I have wedding PTSD already.
“Come in,” I say weakly.
But instead of Madison coming over to check if I’ve used the lint roller correctly, the person who enters is Logan.
And he locks the door behind him.