But she didn’t remember the photographs placed on the table, printed and framed like they were entering Marina and David’s living room. It was a nice touch.
She recognized half the photos of course. She was in a lot of them, or had taken the others. The timeline of Marina growing up was something she was only too familiar with, gaps of time between the photos filled in by her own memories. There were a few baby photos, them on trips together, David with his family, their friends…and one photo that Mara had never seen before.
It was a photo from the night she went to that gin bar with Marina, David and Jay. The fateful night when Jay had taken her photo and sold her to the internet. But she’d never seenthisphoto before. Clearly Jay had also taken it—it was from the same angle as the meme photo. In this photo, David was speaking to Marina, the smile on his face showing he was unmistakably in love while she laughed at whatever he said.
Meanwhile Mara was sitting next to her sister, looking completely away from the camera, totally unaware of what was happening right in front of her.
Hot embarrassment warmed her cheeks. Had she really been that stupid? This was the night David told her he was in love, and Mara had stupidly assumed that he had been talking about her. Silly of her, thinking that it had to be her because he asked her to eat out with him all the time, because she shared things with him that not even Mabel or Marina knew. Because he drove her home, because he said she looked pretty. It certainly couldn’t be Marina, he’d just set her up with his friend!
She really didn’t know if that memory on full display, or Jay turning her face into a joke, was the highlight of that particular evening.
Mara cleared her throat, hoping it would help push down the bitter taste on her tongue. She began to step away, already making up an excuse about needing to check on the flowers. Screw the beer and ice cream, she just needed to get away from this wedding for a minute. But the road to being alone was laid with weddings guests and relatives who needed to talk to her.
“Hija, this arrangement is lovely, can we take it home?”
“Marina is so lucky her Ate has a flower shop, so convenient!”
“You look good ha, are you dieting?”
“Naku Mara, make sure you stay away from the ice cream booth. All those flavors, too sinful.”
Those comments were fine. Those she could handle because she got them a lot, fat phobia included. What made her grind her teeth and wish for a wormhole to jump into were the ones that clawed on the feelings she was trying not to pay attention to, such as:
“It’s just so modern, no? Marina getting married first?”
“Naku, you should hurry up and get married before it’s too late, Mara!”
“You’restillsingle? A diet might help with that. Have you spoken to an endocrinologist? I’ve heard wonderful things about this weight loss pill for diabetics…”
Good god, save her.
Or, since Mara wassingle, she was going to save herself.
She was her parents’ daughter, after all. And while the elder Barrettos had zero boundaries, Mara’s were sixty feet tall. So she smiled to all the comments, nodded at all the words, and said she was going to the bar to get a beer. Which she did, taking a deep sip of the craft beer on tap. It helped. “Mara, dear!” exclaimed a voice. Mara looked up and saw her Tita Claudine, breezing through the crowd in her deep red gown, the same shade as all the other ninangs. Tita Claudine was her father’s eldest sister, her favorite tita. In her dream weddings, she always had Tita Claudine as her ninang, but that honor went to Marina today.
Which was fine. Tita Claudine waseveryone’sninang. “Look at you! I thought you said you were going to tell Marina that orange wasn’t your color.”
“It’s not my color, but it’s hers.” Mara put a hand on her chest to keep the dress from shifting as she took a deep breath. Her top’s boning was shaped like a corset, held up by a long zipper instead of a button to “give shape” and very little breathing room. “And thanks for the compliment, Tita. Very nice.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t look lovely. You look like a happy marigold. With glasses.”
“You could just call me pretty.” Mara sighed, but she was going to take “happy marigold.” Sure, why not.
“I wonder whatyourhappiness is going to look like,” Tita Claudine mused, wrapping an arm around Mara’s and squeezing fondly.
“Not Luisa’s, I don’t think.” She cast a look around the place. As much as she loved the venue’s rich society decor, it was already Marina’s, and it would be for as long as Luisa’s stood. Plus Tagaytay traffic was really bad. It was asking alotout of everyone just to come. “This is Marina’s place now.”
“I didn’t mean your wedding, Mar.” Tita Claudine interrupted her thoughts. “We all get to choose our path in life. It doesn’t always end at the altar.”
She knew that, and knew it well. In fact, she spent most of her twenties learning that she had the privilege to make a choice. Studying why she wasn’t required to get married, that the world was trending away from marriage and kids because society wasn’t fair to women (and to a lot of people). Meeting people who made different choices, and were happier for it.
“I never married,” Tita Claudine pointed out. “I chose that, and I like it for me. Now I can flirt harmlessly with other wedding guests because it’s fun. I’m just having fun. Happy with my choices. Are you?”
What a question. And trust Tita Claudine to be the one to ask out of nowhere. And maybe it was the environment, or the dress, or just Mara’s feelings bubbling to the surface. But she knew she had something to say.
“I think for me to make a choice, I would need to be presented with the options,” Mara said slowly, carefully. “And for me to say I choose to be single without finding out for myself what not being single is like—seems unfair,” Mara announced suddenly, biting her bottom lip as if taking the answer back. Too personal. Too vulnerable, especially for a day that wasn’t hers. Too late now. “If I stay single it’s because I preferred it, not because nobody wanted me.”
Tita Claudine tilted her head curiously at Mara, and she had a strange feeling like she’d said the wrong answer to a teacher’s question. But before she could say anything back, someone had ambled over to them with an unmistakable swagger.
