Christmas Wedding

by Tess Thompson

  “That’s fine.”

  Lisa punched the button for room service and ordered the standard breakfast. At the last minute, she added a pot of tea. Mama Soto always said anything could be solved over a warm beverage.

  Mom had plopped onto the couch and pulled out her latest knitting project from her bag. Lisa sat across from her. How was this supposed to go exactly? What was she supposed to say, other than what she’d already said downstairs?

  Her mother clicked away with her knitting needles as though she wanted to punish the yarn.

  “Would you like to see my dress?” Lisa asked.

  “I would’ve liked to see you trying it on in the first place. It’s a little late now.”

  “I’m sorry about that. My stylist sent over a dozen for me to choose from. She knows my taste, and we picked from there. I had them altered in Cliffside Bay, simply because it was easiest.” She hadn’t done it the old-fashioned way as she’d imagined she would. Not that her mother was in that scenario, either. She’d always thought Pepper and Maggie would take her shopping for the dress. They would spend the day together, trying on gowns and drinking champagne. Instead, they got one fitting together. When they still lived in Manhattan, there were several shops they had always stopped at to peer at the dresses through the window. That was before everything changed. These days, she couldn’t go anywhere without people recognizing her. Like today, she couldn’t trust that someone wouldn’t whip out a camera phone and record her private moments. Finding a wedding dress seemed impossible in that scenario.

  Going with her mother? She cringed just thinking about it. Mom’s cruel words came back to her, and anger took the place of pity or guilt. “Mom, those things you said downstairs… I cannot let you do that to me anymore. I deserve better from you.”

  “Better than what? Telling you the truth? Men use us up and spit us out.”

  That wasn’t how her parents’ marriage had gone. Would her mother ever see her part in it? How she’d driven her father away? She wouldn’t go there. Not today. Probably not ever.

  “I’m sorry about Dad.”

  “Which part? That I gave him my best years only to be dumped when I’m old and useless to anyone?”

  “You’re hardly useless. You were pretty badass just now.”

  Mom’s knitting needles stopped clicking for a split second. “I honed that skill from thirty years in the middle school classroom. That’s nothing.”

  “It’s my life now. Constant scrutiny. Cell phone cameras at every turn.”

  The knitting needles were back at it, pummeling each other. “You were the one who wanted this. Boo-hoo. You’re rich and famous. Let’s cry about it.”

  “Mom, that’s not fair.”

  “Correct. Life’s not fair.”

  “You’re not fair. Not when it comes to me, anyway.” Lisa couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was too tired to pretend.

  “What exactly was I supposed to do differently? You were weak like your father. It was my job to make you tougher.”

  Lisa stayed quiet. There would be no winning this argument. Her mother would not see it in the same way Lisa did. She would not see that her favoritism of David was a wound too deep to heal. Especially since Mom would never admit it was even true.

  “Did you know I almost studied art in France? I had a scholarship for a program in Paris,” Mom said.

  “What? No, I never knew that. When?”

  “It was supposed to be my third year of college. But I became pregnant with you and your brother. Instead of Paris, I married your dad. I changed my major from art to education.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Your father was an education major. My mother sat me down and told me to get my head out of the clouds. Marrying a teacher meant I’d need to work too, unless we wanted to starve.”

  “I always thought you loved teaching.” Mom had taught life sciences, including culinary arts and fashion.

  “Lisa, I didn’t have a choice.” She spoke slowly, as if Lisa were too stupid to follow the conversation. “It was either embrace teaching obnoxious preteens how to make chocolate chip cookies or live in poverty the rest of my life.”

  “What was your medium?”

  “I dabbled in painting and sculpture, but I wanted to run a gallery. I had my whole life planned out.”

  “And then we came and ruined it all?” Lisa asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Your father was just a guy I liked. One night we got carried away. It’s as simple as that.”

  And as complicated.

  “I would never have married him if I hadn’t been pregnant,” Mom said. “He was never the one I wanted. No ambition. So meek and mild-mannered. I had to push him every step of the way or he’d never have become a high school principal.”

  Then why are you so devastated that he wants a divorce?

  “I did everything right. And look how it’s all turned out.” Mom’s needles clicked away.

  “David said the same thing to me after Marigold died.”

  “Did he?” Mom asked.

  “Yes. Almost exactly.” David had stuck to his promise to marry Marigold even though he loved someone else.

  “And you, dear daughter, haven’t done anything right. Not one single thing. And look how wonderful everything’s turned out for you.”

  Lisa blinked. She fiddled with the collar of her sweater. Was it possible her mother was jealous of her life? Before the film and television success had come, Mom had always acted as if Lisa’s dreams were impossible to achieve. She’d belittled them or acted patronizing.

  David, though? He was her golden boy. A rising star at his architecture firm back in Iowa. He’d married what their mother had thought was the perfect woman. They’d had two beautiful children. Whereas Lisa had gone to New York and then LA. She’d gone after her dreams, and they’d come true. Then, like the topping on a fancy New York cupcake, she’d found Rafael.

  Rafael. Her mother didn’t think he was the perfect man for her. But Lisa couldn’t care less about her opinion. She knew Rafael was the love of her life, her soul mate. He’d pieced her back together after tragedy. He was the one who had shown her how Mom wanted to keep her small because she didn’t want Lisa to leave her. But maybe it was that she was jealous. Lisa had a life so different from her mother’s. Maybe that was the problem.

  “You’ve gotten it all,” Mom said. “You have everything I wanted. Money. Travel. Beauty. Even David. And now your dad. They’ve chosen you and your fancy life.”

  “Their choices have nothing to do with me. They’re trying to find what they need and want.”

  “And it’s clearly not me. Did you know Laine didn’t even know me? Those kids are going to grow up without even knowing what I did for all of you. How I’ve sacrificed.”

  “What do you want, Mom? Without delving into everything you didn’t get, what do you want now?”

  “What do I want?” Her needles slowed and then stopped. “I want a do-over.”

  “What does that mean exactly? A trip to Paris?”

  For the first time, her mother looked up at her. “What would I do in Paris?”

  “You said you wanted to travel.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Mom said.

  “You did. Just now.”

  “We never had the money or the time. It was always about you kids.”

  “I have money now,” Lisa said. “I could rent an apartment in Paris for you. You could stay for a year and travel all over Europe. See all the art you wanted to see before you had us.”

  Mom simply stared at her as if she had grown two heads.

  “You’re free now,” Lisa said.

  “You’d do that for me?”

  “I’d do anything to make you happy. I’ve just never been able to figure out how.”

  “You’ve always been an overachiever. You got that from me. Making me happy has never been your job. That’s the part you never understood.”

  “But you’
ve always been so critical of me. I never do anything right in your eyes.”

  “I’m not critical of you. I’ve dedicated my life to making you the best version of yourself that you can be.”

  “It’s felt like criticism.”

  Mom’s face crumpled as she reeled forward over her lap. She brought the knitted piece to her eyes, as if it were a handkerchief. Her shoulders shook. For a moment, Lisa thought she was crying, but soon discovered it was laughter.

  What was so funny? Lisa stared at her in horror as the shaking turned to howling laughter.

  Finally, her mother sobered. “I’m sorry. It’s just that everything is so absurd. Why do you care what I think? Half the world’s in love with you. Pepper and Maggie and David all adore you. Rafael obviously worships you. Do you know your father brags about you and David to everyone? It’s embarrassing, frankly. Everyone loves you and always has. Why on earth would my opinion matter?”

  She didn’t answer for a moment, stunned. “I care because you’re my mother. I want your approval.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t.”

  They sat in silence. Lisa gazed into the flames of the gas fireplace. Mom resumed her knitting, but with a softer touch than before.

  After a few minutes, Lisa looked over at her. “I can’t get married without you here. It’s wrong. I want you to see me in my dress.”

  “I don’t have to see it to know how beautiful you’ll look. You were the most beautiful little girl and a stunning young woman. If you wore a gunnysack down the aisle, you’d still be the most gorgeous bride there ever was.”

  “Mom.” Lisa wiped tears from her eyes. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been…the way I am. I did my best.”

  “David and I know how much you did for us. We truly do. You never gave up on me, even when I’d given up on myself. You got me the medical help I needed.” Lisa pursed her lips, trying not to cry. Even after fifteen years, her chest ached at the memory of her attempted suicide and subsequent treatment.

  “My poor girl.” Mom’s eyes filled as she looked away. “I’ve never felt so helpless.” Her voice caught, and she swallowed. “When we almost lost you was the most terrifying moment of my life. I think that’s when I started to hang on too tightly. I’ve always been like that. If something scares me, I hunker down. My overprotectiveness came off as criticism. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt. I’m still that way. Even if you don’t see it.”

  She didn’t see it. Maybe she would, someday. Right now, she was still too raw. Too hurt. Still, this was her mother. She had to dig deep into her well of kindness and compassion. Her mother had done the best she could. She’d been there for them, cared for them, loved them.

  “Mom, it’s time for you to do something for yourself. A third act. You can have the life you dreamed of. Study art in Paris if you want. Whatever it is, I’ll get it for you.”

  Mom looked at the knitting in her lap and spoke softly. “I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Everything. I’ve blamed your father for the life I ended up with. Now that none of you need or want me, I’ll have only myself to blame if I’m unhappy.”

  “Maybe it’s not happiness we’re supposed to seek, but joy.” Lisa rubbed the diamond in her engagement ring and remembered Rafael’s face when he’d asked her to marry him. She’d been so joyous in that moment. “Become a joy seeker. Do what you want, when you want. Let me do this for you. When you got me the help and medication I needed, you saved my life. You also helped me find acting, which has made my life. I want to repay you, and I’m lucky enough to be able to do so.”

  Her mother’s eyes shone as she stared into the fire. “Paris. A whole year in Paris.”

  “Or longer. Maybe you’ll find a French boyfriend.”

  “Lisa. For heaven’s sake, I’m way too old for a boyfriend. Plus, who would put up with me?”

  Lisa couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Mom, just because you and Dad weren’t suited doesn’t mean you’re not suitable for someone else. When I met Rafael and everything clicked, I realized that all the other relationships I had were so hard because they weren’t the right men. Or man, I should say. With Rafael, it’s not hard. Yes, we still have to work to communicate and learn what the other needs, but we want to put in the effort. You and Dad tried. For our sakes, obviously. It’s time for you to have a second chance.”

  “A second chance. A joy seeker. It has a nice ring to it.”

  Lisa stood and held out her hand. “Come into the bedroom. I want you to look at my dress for tonight’s rehearsal dinner and help me decide how to do my hair.”

  As her mother rose to her feet, a tentative but hopeful look crossed her face.

  “Oh, and I almost forgot. I was able to get another person to do your hair and makeup.”

  “Well, I should look my best. I’m the mother of the bride, after all.”

  She tucked her arm through Mom’s. “A beautiful one, too.”

  “Do you know how long it’s been since I felt anything close to pretty?”

  “That’s a shame, Mom. I think we can do something about that. There’s a whole team of professionals at our disposal.”

  5

  Rafael

  * * *

  Around three that afternoon, Rafael let himself into the hotel room. He’d been out for most of the day with Stone, Nico, and Trey, having a tame bachelor party. They’d had lunch in town and then rented snowshoes for a hike through the woods. The afternoon had ended with expensive scotch and stinky cigars. His muscles slightly fatigued from exercise and his mind calm from the quiet of the woods, he shrugged out of his jacket. Where was his bride? The suite was quiet. Too quiet.

  Something was wrong. A darkness hung in the air, like the interior of a funeral home. The hair at the back of his neck stood up as he called out to Lisa. There was no answer. Glancing around, everything looked the same as when he’d left. The door to the other bedroom where the wedding gown and the bridesmaid dresses were hidden remained closed. The bathroom door was also closed. Even if Lisa were in the shower, she usually kept the door slightly ajar. He crossed the room and tapped on the door. “Lisa, are you in there?”

  “Yes.” The sound of splashing water told him she was in the tub. That was a bad sign. She only took baths when she was upset. What had her mother done? “Come on in.” Her voice sounded muffled and strange. Was she crying?

  He opened the door a few inches. Thick steam shrouded his view, but he made out the outline of Lisa sitting in the middle of the tub. Her face was buried in her drawn-up knees.

  He shut the door to keep the warmth in the room and crossed over to her. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter?” He knelt next to the tub as she lifted her face to him.

  Puffy red eyes peered at him. “My parents are getting a divorce.”

  He rocked back on his heels and then plopped hard onto the floor. “What?”

  “Yes. They told David and me this morning.”

  “The day before your wedding?”

  She nodded. “Good timing, right?”

  “I’d say.” His mind had gone from to calm to enraged in a matter of seconds. What was wrong with these people? Couldn’t it wait until after she returned from the honeymoon? It was as if they wanted her to be as unhappy as they were.

  “It’s my dad. He wants out.” She went on to tell him they’d been in counseling and that her father realized he’d been miserable for years. “You won’t believe what Mom told me today. She said they got married because she was pregnant. It’s like everything was a lie. My whole childhood.” She started crying again, speaking through her tears. “I kept it together until after Mom left.”

  “She was here?” He knew it.

  “Yes. She threatened to leave before the wedding, but I talked her out of it. I was calm when she was here, like I was channeling someone else. But the minute she left, everything just crashed in on me.”

  He wa
s sweating under his ski pants and sweater in the warmth of the bathroom. Peeling them off, he uncharacteristically tossed them aside without a thought of hanging them in the closet.

  When he’d discarded his underclothes, he climbed in behind her and encircled her with his arms and legs. “Everything’s going to be all right. Maybe they’ll both be happier.”

  She nodded into her hands. He felt her relax against him. “I hope so. I’m not sure my dad could be more miserable than he’s been, but she seemed content. At least, that’s what I thought. Apparently she had to give up studying art in Paris when she got pregnant. I had no idea.” She paused for a moment, quiet. Her back moved up and down as she breathed. One of her relaxation techniques was to breathe slowly in and out. She’d learned it from the trauma therapist after witnessing a mass shooting.

  She rested the back of her head against his chest. “I’m afraid, Rafael. What if we end up like them? Hating each other?”

  “That’s not going to happen. We’re marrying for the right reasons.”

  “Because we don’t want to live without each other?”

  “That’s not really a question.” He caressed her upper arms with his thumbs. “Baby, you’re my soul mate and best friend. We’re nothing like your parents.”

  “But maybe my family has the marriage curse, too. Look at what happened to David.”

  “The truth is—statistically fifty percent of marriages don’t make it. There are probably a lot of different reasons for that, including being ill-suited, like your parents. If you have to give up who you are to please the other person, then it’s not right.”

  “You think that’s what happened with my dad?”

  “Seems that way to me. He doesn’t seem present. Like he checked out a long time ago. Her personality is so strong, there was no room for him.”

  “He wants to come out to California to be close to David and me. He told us that in front of Mom.”

  “Talk about salt on the wound,” Rafael said. He almost felt sorry for Mrs. Perry. Almost. Until he remembered all the ways she’d hurt Lisa over the years.

  “She acted like it was a contest and they’d chosen me over her. It was bizarre. She spewed all these hateful things at me. Awful predictions about my life. She said eventually you’ll leave me. I’ll be a has-been by then, and the kids will all have grown up and moved away. I’ll be left all alone.”