It’s not one of those moments where everyone thinks the man is sweet. I can
see the look on my family’s faces as they try to comprehend why Oliver spoke
for me rather than allowing me to answer the question, and I’m not sure if I’m
with them or against them on the matter.
Mr. And Mrs. Stanton do not seem concerned with the fact
that their son just acted as if I am an invalid unable to speak to her own
parents.
“White roses? That’s it?” It’s my father who speaks first
with a ruddy face and blazing, blue eyes. “That sounds like something that
would be at a funeral.” My mother scoffs at him and tries to plead with me with
her eyes to forgive him for saying something so rude at the dining table.
Christina glances at Brent with a knowing look on her face and Oliver almost chokes
on his mouthful of wine. I’m not the only one who wants to be barely conscious
by the end of this night.
Hell, maybe I’ll get lucky and get laid for the first
time in forever.
Epiphanies are rare. They’re like diamonds amidst a vast
field of quartz, unable to be seen when looking at the big picture, but once you
zero in on the moment you can find them. Pieces of the puzzle start to fall in
place. I’m starting to realize that Oliver doesn’t love me; he loves the idea of me. I’m a safe bet for a trophy wife who will stay with him because of money
and the security.
All my life I’ve played it safe, except for one night in
Vegas.
My glass of wine is empty, and I motion for the waiter to
refill it as another course is delivered. No one asks about the wedding after
my father’s comment, and the rest of the evening they discuss safe subjects
like business practice and the different flavors of wine. I really don’t care
what flavor mine is as long as it will drown out the feeling that Oliver
Stanton is nothing more than a safe harbor for me.
Just as we’re moving through the final course, dessert, my
cellphone buzzes in my clutch purse and my soon to be mother-in-law sends me a
glare that’s like daggers. I sense the discomfort this causes my parents, and
try to excuse myself quietly from the table. Oliver offers to come with me, but
I tell him that I’m just going to the ladies room.
It’s not that I care who just called me; in fact, I have no
idea whom it was. The buzzing phone is just an excuse to get away from the
tension at the dinner table. All night my father has been acting as though he
harbors no manners, my mother looks lost and embarrassed, my sister keeps
shooting knowing glances in my direction, and Brent looks guilty. I have no
idea what Oliver is feeling right now, but I feel trapped.
As soon as the bathroom door closes I turn the little lock
on the knob and pull myself onto the counter by the sinks. There’s no one else
inside, and for a few, short moments I will be blissfully alone. The chatter of
the dining room still reaches my ears faintly, but if I hum loud enough it goes
away and I can pretend I’m in an entirely different city.
Crazy people supposedly don’t know they’re insane, but I’m
pretty sure I’m falling off the deep end. I’ve been falling off ever since I
said yes to Oliver, and I’m paying a heavy price for it. I’ve lost ten pounds
that I couldn’t afford to lose, and every night I lie awake wondering if I’m
doing the right thing. My humming cuts off immediately when someone knocks on
the door gently, and I hear my mother’s voice call out my name.
“Great,” I mumble aloud as I slide off the counter and turn
on the sink to pretend I was actually doing something in here. My heels clink
on the white tiles laced with gold as I move to open the door.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Leave it up to my mother to
understand that tonight is a disaster for me. Before I can lie to her and tell
her that everything is peachy keen, my mother pushes into the bathroom and
closes the door. In one swift, deft move, she locks the door.
“What are you doing?” I turn to the mirror
see the look on my family’s faces as they try to comprehend why Oliver spoke
for me rather than allowing me to answer the question, and I’m not sure if I’m
with them or against them on the matter.
Mr. And Mrs. Stanton do not seem concerned with the fact
that their son just acted as if I am an invalid unable to speak to her own
parents.
“White roses? That’s it?” It’s my father who speaks first
with a ruddy face and blazing, blue eyes. “That sounds like something that
would be at a funeral.” My mother scoffs at him and tries to plead with me with
her eyes to forgive him for saying something so rude at the dining table.
Christina glances at Brent with a knowing look on her face and Oliver almost chokes
on his mouthful of wine. I’m not the only one who wants to be barely conscious
by the end of this night.
Hell, maybe I’ll get lucky and get laid for the first
time in forever.
Epiphanies are rare. They’re like diamonds amidst a vast
field of quartz, unable to be seen when looking at the big picture, but once you
zero in on the moment you can find them. Pieces of the puzzle start to fall in
place. I’m starting to realize that Oliver doesn’t love me; he loves the idea of me. I’m a safe bet for a trophy wife who will stay with him because of money
and the security.
All my life I’ve played it safe, except for one night in
Vegas.
My glass of wine is empty, and I motion for the waiter to
refill it as another course is delivered. No one asks about the wedding after
my father’s comment, and the rest of the evening they discuss safe subjects
like business practice and the different flavors of wine. I really don’t care
what flavor mine is as long as it will drown out the feeling that Oliver
Stanton is nothing more than a safe harbor for me.
Just as we’re moving through the final course, dessert, my
cellphone buzzes in my clutch purse and my soon to be mother-in-law sends me a
glare that’s like daggers. I sense the discomfort this causes my parents, and
try to excuse myself quietly from the table. Oliver offers to come with me, but
I tell him that I’m just going to the ladies room.
It’s not that I care who just called me; in fact, I have no
idea whom it was. The buzzing phone is just an excuse to get away from the
tension at the dinner table. All night my father has been acting as though he
harbors no manners, my mother looks lost and embarrassed, my sister keeps
shooting knowing glances in my direction, and Brent looks guilty. I have no
idea what Oliver is feeling right now, but I feel trapped.
As soon as the bathroom door closes I turn the little lock
on the knob and pull myself onto the counter by the sinks. There’s no one else
inside, and for a few, short moments I will be blissfully alone. The chatter of
the dining room still reaches my ears faintly, but if I hum loud enough it goes
away and I can pretend I’m in an entirely different city.
Crazy people supposedly don’t know they’re insane, but I’m
pretty sure I’m falling off the deep end. I’ve been falling off ever since I
said yes to Oliver, and I’m paying a heavy price for it. I’ve lost ten pounds
that I couldn’t afford to lose, and every night I lie awake wondering if I’m
doing the right thing. My humming cuts off immediately when someone knocks on
the door gently, and I hear my mother’s voice call out my name.
“Great,” I mumble aloud as I slide off the counter and turn
on the sink to pretend I was actually doing something in here. My heels clink
on the white tiles laced with gold as I move to open the door.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Leave it up to my mother to
understand that tonight is a disaster for me. Before I can lie to her and tell
her that everything is peachy keen, my mother pushes into the bathroom and
closes the door. In one swift, deft move, she locks the door.
“What are you doing?” I turn to the mirror
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