Chapter 5 - After the Curtain Call
The chandeliers didn't dim. That was what made it worse, the way the light stayed warm and bright over everything, marble and gold and all those faces turned toward me. I stood in the ivory satin with the crystal layer hanging open over my arms, heavy, beaded, catching that light every time I breathed. The microphone was still hot in my right hand. Behind me the projection froze on the last invoice signature, my signature, blown up ten feet tall.
The coordinator appeared at the edge of the altar like she'd been waiting for a cue. Young, headset, clipboard pressed to her chest. She smiled too hard and clapped her hands once, light.
"Friends and family, let's give our couple a moment," she said, her voice carrying too cheerful. "Cocktail hour is open on the mezzanine, champagne is waiting, please —"
"No," I said.
It wasn't loud. I didn't lift the microphone. I just said it, and the word landed because my breathing was audible through the mic. I adjusted my grip and felt the beadwork pull against my forearm.
"I need a minute here," I said into the mic then, quieter. "Not out there. Here."
The coordinator's smile thinned. She looked past me to my husband, then to Victoria, then back to the guests who hadn't moved anyway. No one was going to get a drink while the screen still said IVORY SATIN WEDDING GOWN.
He stepped closer, close enough that the white rose on his lapel brushed the edge of the crystal. His voice was low, not for the microphone, not for them.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he said. His eyes kept flicking from the screen to the dress in my arms to my face. "You knew before you walked out here. You knew and you didn't —"
I had to pause before I could answer. My throat was dry from holding the same breath since I'd unclasped the front.
"I did tell you," I said. "Three weeks ago. I showed you the confirmation email. You said your mom was handling the steaming and not to worry."
He swallowed. I watched it happen, the slow movement in his neck.
"I thought she was helping," he said.
"I know," I said. "That's why I didn't tell you again. I needed you to see it the same time they did."
Behind him, Victoria moved. She hadn't sat back down. She was standing in the gap between the front row and the altar, her silver dress throwing off little sparks of light, her hands already reaching for him. She touched his sleeve.
"Sweetheart," she whispered, but the microphone caught the edge of it. "Come here a second. Just you and me, for a second. You're being put on the spot."
He didn't move at first. Then he half-turned toward her, and that was when Lila stepped forward from the second row. I hadn't seen her stand. She was in that pale beaded dress, and she put a hand lightly on Victoria's arm, not pulling, just resting there.
"Mom," Lila said, soft. "Don't."
Victoria shook her off, not hard, but enough. Her eyes never left my husband.
"He doesn't need to do this in front of everyone," she said to me, but she was talking to him. "This is his wedding day. You're making him choose."
"I'm not making him choose anything," I said. I felt the weight of the crystal dragging on my shoulders and shifted it, folding it over one arm like a coat. The beads clicked. "But I'm not doing this in front of two hundred people either. Not the rest of it."
That was the moment I knew I had to move us. The guests were standing in little clusters now, murmuring, phones half-raised then lowered again. The photographer had stepped back against the gold balcony and wasn't lifting his camera. If we stayed on that altar, every word would come through that mic and end up as a caption.
I looked at the coordinator.
"Is the dressing suite still open?" I asked.
She nodded fast, relieved to have a task. "Yes, the bridal suite down the hall, it's private, it's —"
"We'll go there," I said. I turned my body just enough to include Lila without looking directly at Victoria. "Just family. The four of us. The screen can stay on. I want it on."
Victoria opened her mouth. "I don't —"
"We're not doing this here," I said, and my voice finally cracked a little on here, which made it sound more honest than anything else I'd said.
My husband looked at me, then at his mother, then back at me. He put his hand, very briefly, on the small of my back, over the satin, not the beads.
"Okay," he said. "Suite."
May you like
Lila was already gathering the edge of Victoria's shawl from the chair. Victoria didn't move until Lila touched her elbow again and said, "Come on, Mom."
I stepped down from the altar first. The ivory satin moved the way I'd remembered it in the shop, clean and quiet around my legs, no weight. I carried the crystal in both arms now, the clasp hanging open, the mic still in my hand with my thumb over the mute switch so my breathing wouldn't carry down the hall. Behind me I heard their shoes on the marble, and the low hum of the projector still running, throwing that invoice light across the empty altar as we left the ballroom.
