* * *
The wedding reception was everything the bride could have wished for--and everything Sarah loathed. Loud, brash, garish. The decorations as uncouth as the guests on Andrea’s side. Sarah sat at the family’s table hoping that a hole would open up in the floor and swallow her. Andrea’s favorite color was pink--not a pretty, soft pastel pink, but a horrendous bubble gum pink. Not only were the bridesmaids dressed in that hideous color, but the whole room was decorated in that hue. Pink balloons and streamers hung from the ceiling, pink linens adorned the tables, pink peonies served as centerpieces. Sarah felt like she was swimming in a bottle of Pepto Bismal.
She gazed at the wedding party table. Her son and his new bride huddled together, whispering, as though no one else existed. All of Andrea’s brothers and sisters were in the wedding party, as well as a couple of her cousins and friends. Poor Michael had only been allotted two slots by the time Andrea’s family obligations were met. He’d asked his two closest friends to be his best man and a groomsman. When Sarah talked to the two men at rehearsal dinner, they both seemed as smitten with Andrea as her son. Well, the girl certainly knows how to attract men, Sarah thought.
Even today, on her wedding day, she managed to look like a tramp. Her strapless dress kept sinking lower and lower revealing much too much skin. Every so often Andrea would yank it up, but within minutes it slipped down again. She hadn’t even covered her shoulders in church. Doesn’t the Catholic Church have rules about that sort of thing? Sarah wondered. And instead of a veil, she’d pulled her hair into a one-sided ponytail and secured a big, fat pink peony into the band.
Sarah gazed around the room and wondered whether all her friends were as horrified as she. She’d kept her invitation list small, just her closest friends, all well aware of her opinion of her new daughter-in-law. She caught the eye of one of her friends and flashed a pained smile in her direction. Her friend nodded.
Sarah heard the sound of a spoon against a glass and then the best man’s voice. “I’d like to propose a toast to the newlyweds,” Scott said.
“How about some more bubbly, Sarah?” Andrea’s father, Joe, was at her side, topping off her glass before she could respond. He circled the table and made sure all the glasses were filled.
“I’ve known Mike ever since high school,” Scott said. “And I’ve never seen him as happy as he is now. In fact, before Andi, Mike was kind of a morose guy.”
The room erupted with laughter.
“First it was studying all the time; then it was working all the time. I used to have to drag him out by his ear to get him to grab a beer with me. But then the coolest chick I ever met came along and showed the guy how to have fun. I am so thrilled to have witnessed my best buddy transformed into the happiest guy I know.” He raised his glass. “Best wishes to Mike and Andi!”
Sarah raised her glass, took a polite sip of champagne. Was Michael really morose before he met Andrea? she wondered. Hardly. Yes, he was serious and studious and hard-working. But what’s wrong with that? Before she could put her glass down, Andrea’s father grabbed the microphone from Scott and started a new toast.
“Andi’s my little firecracker. Ever since she was a little girl, she had so much energy, she lit up the whole room. She would run around the house, singing, laughing, spreading joy everywhere. I always wanted her to find a man who would make her as happy as she makes the world. And she has.” He flung his arm toward the wedding table. “You’d think with all my kids, I wouldn’t have room for another son. But I’m so jazzed to add Mike to the family. Cheers!”
The toasts continued--four more--all three of Andrea’s brothers and one of her uncles. Total overkill. The same words: what a wonderful couple, so in love, Andi the best thing that ever happened to Michael. Hardly the case, Sarah thought. That girl is like a black widow. She’ll spin her web around Michael and it will only be a matter of time before she devours him.
When dinner ended, the dancing began. Sarah watched as Michael and Andrea danced to the first song. The way Andrea moved her hands over Michael’s body verged on obscene. At the end of the number, she cupped his buttocks and gave him a squeeze. Sarah cringed while the rest of the guests hooted and hollered, yelling out for the couple to kiss, which they did, their faces mashed together, their tongues delved into each other’s mouths like they were digging for gold.
The next song began and Andrea grabbed her father. Michael walked to his mother and held out his hand.
“That was quite a show you two put on,” Sarah said as the two danced.
“Mom, don’t ruin my wedding day. Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“You can be happy and still show some decorum. Just because Andrea is ...”
Sarah felt Michael’s hand tighten around hers. “Andi is what, Mom? Not up to your standards? We’ve had this talk before.”
He pulled back slightly and gazed down, his eyes bored into hers as he stopped dancing. “Andi is my wife now. I’m not going to take any more of your bullshit.”
Sarah felt a chill through her bones. As much as she hated his wife, she loved her son. She wouldn’t lose him. Not to that tramp. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m sure once I get to know Andrea better, I’ll love her as my own daughter.”
The song ended and Michael kissed his mother on the cheek. “I know you will.”
Sarah watched her son walk over to Andrea’s mother and ask her to dance. She waited to see if Andrea’s father would approach her, but he started dancing with one of his other daughters. She stood for a moment while the dancers floated around her. She saw their smiles, heard their laughter. She’d never felt so alone.