I drain the last of my drink feeling the buzz warm its way throughout my limbs. I shouldn’t care what these strangers think, but the way they made me feel so dirty worms its way into my thoughts. We’ve been here before at the center of rumors and judgement. Remembering how our schoolmates reacted to us and how they made it their mission to torment me turns my stomach. Don’t people have anything better to do, like mind their own business? I fear we’ll never be able to escape the scrutiny, and any ounce of happiness I was feeling earlier in his arms, is snuffed out.
“The secret is they’re miserable, Mel. That’s why they feel the need to pick others apart the way they do. It makes them forget, just for a moment, what awful, unfulfilling lives they lead. Don’t let their misery sink you down to their level. You’re worth more than their worthless opinions.”
I stare at him open mouthed. “That might be one of the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
He shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, hand clutching his own drink. From the looks of his glass, I would assume it’s a whiskey neat. His focus is pulled to the ocean, and he gets a faraway look on his face.
“My mom loved it here,” he says after a moment.
“What was she like?” There’s something about weddings that drudges up the nostalgia. I can’t imagine it’s easy for him to see his dad move on so quickly. Or to come back to a place that meant so much to her.
He looks almost wistful as he thinks over his answer. “She was a lot like you actually. Full of life. Always laughing. Smart. Drank coffee like a fish drinks water. And she loved being out on the water.”
His gaze doesn’t leave the ocean and we stand together listening to the waves lap along the shore.
“She sounds amazing.”
He turns to me, his eyes look watery with unshed tears. “She was.”
I take his face in my hand and wipe away the rogue tear that’s slipped down his cheek. His freshly shaven face from earlier has begun to show a five o’clock shadow, feeling rough beneath my thumb. He leans into my touch, and I feel like I can’t breathe. This thing between us is like a powder keg ready to explode with the slightest spark.
Those stormy gray eyes of his are pinning me to where I stand. Chase’s hand grips mine and I find it being brought to his lips. He turns my palm in his hand bringing the back of my hand to his mouth. I don’t know what’s happening, all I know is I don’t want it to stop. No matter how wrong it might be. My stomach flutters at his touch and I step closer as if pulled by an invisible rope.
“What do we have here?” Chase’s dad asks, walking up with his bride. My mother.
It takes a moment for my body to catch up with my mind, but when it does, I put space between myself and Chase, feeling like I just caught doing something I’m not supposed to. Being near my mom tends to bring up those adolescent feelings like I’m a kid all over again, just waiting for her to dole out her punishment.
She looks stunning in her wedding dress. Makeup and hair impeccably done. It’s undeniable that we’re related. She shares so many of my features, only the way that she conducts herself is so vastly different than how I am. She carries a capacity for cruelty that I hope to never develop.
“So nice to see the two of you getting along,” my mom says with a smile plastered to her face that doesn’t meet her eyes. On the surface, they look good together. Her with her platinum blonde hair, expensive boob job, and neatly trimmed waist that boasts of taking Pilates classes. Him with his dashing smile, sparkling eyes, and dark hair with a hint of silver creeping in at his temples. Taking a good look at him is like seeing what Chase will look like when he’s older.
I take a swig of my drink and my mom tsks. “Are you sure you want to have any more of that.”
Immediately my shoulders tense, remembering how being with her feels like constantly being critiqued. She’s always wanting me to look or be a certain way. Laying out unattainable expectations because she believes what I do and who I choose to be is a direct reflection of her. Only, I actively reject being anything like her. The only thing I can’t change is my inherited facial features that resemble hers.
“Yeah, I do,” I answer, looking around for another drink. I snag one off a passing waiter drinking it with a vengeance.
“Melody, those things are just empty calories. It’ll go straight to your middle.”
My nostrils flare.
“She looks perfect the way she is,” Chase answers and I see my mom’s eye twitch.
Memories assault me of having her pinch my sides in fitting rooms. Hours of looking at myself in the mirror and thinking I wasn’t good enough the way I was. The endless dieting to please her, thinking maybe if I lost ten or twenty pounds it could earn her approval. It took years for me to understand that the only approval I ever needed was my own. That my weight should never be a condition of deserving love. I miss whatever Chase’s dad is rambling about, but it’s clear my mother has no idea how much she’s just hurt me as she looks on adoringly at her new husband.
Maybe my dynamic with my mom is why I care so much about what others think. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to live up to my mom’s expectations and constantly falling short, and yet still desperately trying to do right by her. All this time I thought I’d been doing better being away from her, but here I am still trying to please people that aren’t me. People who don’t even matter. And I might have ruined my own chance at happiness because of it.
As they ramble on about some meaningless small talk, Great Aunt Muriel ambles out, laying the majority of her weight on her cane. “There you all are,” she says sounding out of breath. “I’m about to take off and wanted to say my goodbyes. Travis, darling, you take care of my favorite great nephew, won’t you. And Stella, you look beautiful, though I wonder was it not odd to have your wedding at your former place of employment?
“How kind of you to remind me,” my mom responds with a tight-lipped smile.
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Have a lovely evening. Chase,” he bends down and places a kiss on her cheek. “Stay out of trouble. Nice meeting you, Melody dear.”
“Goodnight,” I call after her with a smile. Not many people can make my mom’s eye twitch like that, but damn I love seeing it happen.
“Melody, Chase, be sure to come by in the morning before you leave. We have something we want to discuss with you,” my mom says.
I catch Chase’s eye and he looks just as lost as I do.
