It was the day of Taylor’s bridal shower. I kept thinking of it as her shower because she and her mom were the ones who were throwing it. The invitations they sent out were nicer than my actual wedding invitations.
There were already a bunch of cars parked in front of the house. I recognized Marcy Yoo’s silver Audi and Taylor’s Aunt Mindy’s blue Honda. Taylor’s mailbox had white balloons strung on it. It reminded me of every birthday party Taylor had ever had. She always had hot pink balloons. Always.
I was wearing a white sundress and sandals. I’d put on mascara and blush and pink lip gloss. When I’d left the Cousins house, Conrad said I looked nice. It was the first time we’d spoken since the day we stopped for peaches. He said, You look nice, and I said thanks. Totally normal.
I rang the doorbell, something I never did at Taylor’s house. But since it was a party, I figured I should.
Taylor answered the door. She was wearing a pink dress with light green fish swimming along the hem, and she’d done her hair halfway up. She looked like she should be the bride, not me. “You look pretty,” she said, hugging me.
“So do you,” I said, stepping inside.
“Almost everybody’s here,” she said, leading me to the living room.
“I’m just gonna go pee first,” I said.
“Hurry, you’re the guest of honor.”
I used the bathroom quickly, and after I washed my hands, I tried to brush my hair with my fingers. I put a little more lip gloss on. For some reason, I felt nervous.
Taylor had hung crepe-paper wedding bells from the ceiling, and “Going to the Chapel” was playing on the stereo.
There were our friends Marcy and Blair and Katie, Taylor’s Aunt Mindy, my next door-neighbor Mrs. Evans, Taylor’s mom Lucinda. And sitting next to her, on the loveseat, wearing a light blue suit, was my mother.
My eyes filled when I saw her.
We didn’t run across the room to embrace, we didn’t weep. I made my way around the room, hugging women and girls, and when I finally reached my mother, we hugged tightly and for a long time. We didn’t have to say anything, because we both knew.
At the buffet table, Taylor squeezed my hand. “Happy?” she whispered.
“So happy,” I whispered back, picking up a plate. I felt such immense relief. Everything was really working out. I had my mom back. This was really happening.
“Good,” Taylor said.
“How did this even happen? Did your mom talk to my mom?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said, and she blew me a little kiss. “My mom said it wasn’t even hard to convince her to come.”
Lucinda had set up the table with her famous white coconut cake as the centerpiece. There was sparkling lemonade, pigs in a blanket, baby carrots, and onion dip—all my favorite foods. My mom had brought her lemon squares.
I filled my plate with food and sat next to the girls. Popping a pig in a blanket in my mouth, I said, “Thank you guys so much for coming!”
“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Marcy said, shaking her head in awe.
“Me either,” Blair said.
“Me either,” I said.
Opening presents was the best part. It felt like my birthday. Cupcake tins from Marcy, drinking glasses from Blair, hand towels from Aunt Mindy, cookbooks from Lucinda, a glass pitcher from Taylor, a down comforter from my mother.
Taylor sat next to me, writing down who gave what and collecting ribbons. She poked holes into a paper plate and wove the ribbons through.
“What’s that for?” I asked her.
“Your bouquet for the rehearsal, silly,” Lucinda said, beaming at me. She’d been tanning that morning. I could tell because you could see the marks her goggles had left.
“Oh, we’re not having a rehearsal dinner,” I said. Because honestly, what was there to rehearse? We were getting married on the beach. It was going to be simple and uncomplicated, the way we both wanted it.
Taylor handed the plate to me. “Then you have to wear it like a hat.”
Lucinda got up and tied the paper plate around my head like a bonnet. We all laughed as Marcy took my picture.
Taylor stood up, holding her notebook. “Okay, so get ready for what Belly’s going to say on her wedding night.”
I covered my face with my ribbon hat. I’d heard of this game before. The maid of honor writes down all the stuff the bride-to-be says while she’s opening presents.
“ ‘Oh, so pretty!’ ” Taylor exclaimed, and the room tittered.
I tried to grab the notebook from her, but she held it above my head and read, “ ‘Jeremiah’s gonna love this!’ ”
After the toilet-paper wedding dress competition, after we helped clean up and everyone had left, I walked my mother to her car.
I felt shy as I said, “Thank you for coming, Mom. It means a lot to me.”
She brushed my hair out of my eyes. “You’re my girl,” she said simply.
I threw my arms around her. “I love you so, so much.”
I called Jeremiah as soon as I got in my car. “We are so on!” I screamed. Not that we ever weren’t. Still, planning this wedding, being away from home, being in a fight with my mom—it’d had me in knots. But with my mother by my side, I finally felt like I could breathe again. My worries were gone. I finally felt complete. I felt like I could do this.
That night, I slept at home. Steven and my mom and I watched crime TV, one of those shows where they re-create crimes. We howled like wolves at the horrible acting, and we ate Fritos and the rest of my mother’s lemon squares. It was so good.
