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Although I was estranged from my family, I wasn't surprised by the wedding invitation; I'd decline attendance and sent gifts to similar family gatherings but attached to this invitation was a personal note from my sister, asking me to come. After twenty years, the note was difficult to ignore so I tapped my limited resources and flew to New England for the weekend.
The reception was held at a major Boston hotel, lavished with more food and liquor than a Roman orgy. The scene was peopled with young and happy bodies making thirty-nine years old me feel like an aged, ill-dressed wallflower. Not that my own now-missing dress was high fashion, but I'd spent more than I could afford on something sort-of appropriate I'd now never wear.
Those few attendees close to my age gathered in family groups, chatting about people and topics as remote to me as the big bang theory. I sat in the darkest corner I could find, sipping a drink and quietly slipped off my borrowed, tissue-stuffed shoes, plotting how soon I could escape.
My sister and I spotted each other at the same time, across the room. There was one quick glance before she first looked away and then, with a jaw-dropping second peek she recognized me and tendered a weak smile before turning away. Not even a wave. If Suzie wanted me to attend, why was she shocked at seeing me? Why didn't she come over and greet me?
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