Andjust like that, I hung up, before she could keep trying to talk me out of it.Then, I smiled, because I was getting married to the man I loved, and myparents would be there.
***
Vinniesaid he wouldn’t wear the same shirt and slacks he’d worn to his father’sfuneral to our wedding, so he rented a tux that fit him well. I didn’t think itwas possible for him to look any better than he already did, but as we drove tothe arboretum, I could only stare at him from across the car and think,howlucky am I.
Wemet my parents, his siblings, and their respective partners at the entrance ofthe arboretum to take a few quick pictures. The moment I stepped out of the carin my new dress, my father approached with a teary-eyed grin.
“Youlook beautiful, honey pie,” he said, wrapping his arms around me in a tightembrace. His mouth dipped closer to my ear and he whispered, “I always knewyou’d do things your way, Andrea. You were never meant to be ordinary.”
Thesweet sentiment was enough to make me flutter my eyes shut as tears gathered inmy inky lashes. I thanked God for waterproof mascara and swiped at the moisturebefore it could trickle down my cheeks.
“Thanks,Daddy,” I whispered in reply, and then, stepped back to allow Vinnie to comeforward.
“Thankyou for coming, sir,” he said, extending a hand.
“Iwouldn’t have missed it,” Dad replied, accepting. Then, stilling the movementof their arms, he said, “I gotta be honest with you; I wasn’t thrilled aboutthis. And it’s not that I don’t like you; it’s that I don’tknowyou.”
“Iunderstand.”
“ButI have to trust that my daughter does, so I’m also trusting that this is a gooddecision,” Dad continued, leveling my recent fiancé with a warning glare. “I’mtelling you now, though; you will not hurt my daughter, or there will be hellto pay. You understand what I’m saying? You better take care of her.”
Vinniehesitated in his response and I could only imagine what he was thinking, likelyreminiscing on the high we reached the night before. The rough, animalistic sexwe had over the coffee table, to ride out our buzz before collapsing on thefloor. I wondered if he wished he was high right now, while in the face of myfather’s dubious approval and if he regretted insisting they be invited.
Butafter pulling in a deep breath, he nodded. “I’ll hurt myself before I ever doanything to intentionally hurt your daughter.”
Dadpursed his lips and nodded. “I’ll settle for that.”
Weaccepted the excited congratulations from his brother and sister, along withtheir husbands. It was a wonderful feeling, to have their acceptance andencouragement, but the persistent expression of discontent on my mother’s facewas slowly burning a hole through my joy.
Butshe never said a word, as we took pictures among the trees and flowers,alongside a quiet creek leading down to the Great South Bay. She silentlysmiled and stood with us, playing the parts of doting mother and mother-in-lawfor the photo album. But as the photographer was changing his lens, inpreparation for the judge’s arrival, she approached me, arms crossed, and headtipped to the ground.
“Andrea,”she said quietly. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Ilooked up to Vinnie, silently asking if I should. He nudged his chin toward mymom and said, “Go ahead, the judge’ll be here in a few minutes. You got time.”
So,I walked with her, allowing her to lead me to the creek’s bank. I sighed inpreparation and watched the babbling water as it shimmered in an amber glowfrom the sun’s rays. She pulled in a deep breath beside me and then shook herhead.
“I’mtrying to think of the right way to say this,” she began, and I remainedsilent, allowing her the time to put together whatever stream of nonsense I wasalready resigned to ignore. “I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Isthat a message from Mer and Willa?” I asked, bitter that my sisters had refusedto witness me getting married.
“Theytold me about what happened at the party,” she confirmed, nodding slowly. “AndI’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed—or disgusted, if I’m really beinghonest. But that’s not why I think this is a mistake.”
“Oh,good.”
Then,she jabbed my shoulder with a gentle finger. “I don’t think he’s good for you.He can barely take care of himself. How the hell is he going to take care ofyou, too?”
“Youhave no idea what you’re—”
“Youmight not want to see it, and that’s why I’m telling you now. He’s … troubled.You can see it in his eyes, and I don’t know what exactly it is. You can makeexcuses for it all you want, but the bottom line is, I’m afraid that whatever’sgoing on with him, he’s just going to drag you down there with him.”
Tearsstung the backs of my eyes at the agonizing despair in her tone, at howclueless she really was to what was going on and the fact that I didn’t thinkI’d ever be able to tell her. She and my sisters had accused me of being blind,but it was them who refused to see. They had all put the blame on Vinnie, whenso much of it came down to the one person they’d never point a finger at:me.
“Iwish you’d believe that I love him,” I whispered past the emotion rising in mythroat.
“Ido,” she insisted. “But sometimes, love isn’t enough.”
“Yeah,”I said, sniffing and turning to head back. “And sometimes, it’s all thatmatters.”
