Chapter 6 - The Rehearsal Eve
The rehearsal at the estate on Friday afternoon was an exercise in weaponized silence.
My father arrived wearing a windbreaker, his jaw set like concrete. He refused to look directly at Daniel, choosing instead to stare fixedly at the stone fountain in the center of the courtyard. When Daniel extended a hand in greeting, Dad kept his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Afternoon,” Dad muttered.
“Arthur,” Daniel acknowledged, withdrawing his hand without the slightest trace of embarrassment.
Chloe looked pale and sullen, clinging to Tyler’s arm like an invalid being led across a battlefield. She wore an empire-waist dress that accentuated her bump, and she sighed loudly every time the wedding coordinator asked the bridal party to reset their walking positions.
Mom spent the entire forty-five minutes hovering three feet behind me, speaking in a stage whisper to Aunt Sarah, who had flown in from Chicago that morning.
“We have to be very careful what we say, Sarah,” Mom murmured, loud enough for the entire second row to hear. “Everything is on a strict timetable. No room for family feeling here. We wouldn't want to upset the *arrangements*.”
Aunt Sarah, an observant woman who had survived two divorces and ran her own accounting firm, glanced between Mom and me, her eyebrow arched. When Mom drifted away to inspect the floral urns, Aunt Sarah stepped up beside me.
“Did you cut the umbilical cord, Bonnie?” she asked quietly.
I turned to my aunt. “I cut the purse strings.”
Aunt Sarah let out a short, dry laugh. “Thank God. I told your mother ten years ago that she was turning Chloe into an ornamental houseplant and using you as the fertilizer. Good for you. Stand your ground tomorrow. The dress looks stunning, by the way.”
“Thank you, Aunt Sarah.”
When the rehearsal concluded, we moved to the terrace for the rehearsal dinner—a simple meal of wood-fired pizzas and salad that Daniel and I had arranged.
As the guests drifted toward the buffet, Dad finally cornered me near the outdoor bar.
“You embarrassed your mother,” he said, his voice low and vibrating with suppressed fury. “She cried all afternoon yesterday. After all she’s done for you, you treat her like a criminal over some party favors.”
“They weren't party favors, Dad. They were an intentional override of a decision I made three separate times.”
“She’s your mother! She was trying to create a memory!”
“She was trying to take control of my day to give Chloe an audience she didn't earn,” I said, meeting his bloodshot eyes. “And you let her do it because it’s easier to bully me into compliance than it is to tell Chloe no.”
Dad stepped closer, his face reddening. “You watch your mouth, young lady. You think you’re so smart with your corporate job and your lawyer husband. You think you’re better than this family.”
“No, Dad,” I said, not backing away an inch. “I just refuse to be the family’s shock absorber anymore. Your phone service is your responsibility. Chloe’s baby is her responsibility. And this wedding is mine.”
Daniel appeared at my elbow, seemingly out of thin air. He didn't raise his voice; he simply stood between us, his taller frame completely blocking my father’s aggressive posture.
“Arthur,” Daniel said, his voice calm, polite, and completely devoid of warmth. “The bar is serving sparkling cider and wine. I suggest you get a glass and join your wife at the table. Bonnie has a long day tomorrow, and we are done having these discussions.”
Dad looked at Daniel, then at me. For a moment, the old authority flared in his eyes—the belief that he could command obedience through sheer paternal displeasure. But he found nothing in either of our faces to work with.
May you like
He turned on his heel and walked away.
***
