"How is Blossom?"
"Broken and upset, but I know the details now. She and I spoke this morning. Did you go to Manuel's apartment as planned?"
"Actually, he came here."
I took her hand and led her into the living room. We sat on my charcoal sofa, our legs touching, holding hands.
"What did he say?" she asked.
"He told me they went over budget on the wedding by a lot. Apparently, several thousand dollars, and he was stressed aboutdipping into his savings more than he had planned. Instead of coming to me or his mother, he decided to cover the expense himself."
"Because he wanted to prove he could handle the situation," Tallulah said quietly. "I can only imagine what he was thinking. He wanted to be responsible and to show that marrying Blossom wasn't a mistake."
Her words hit me in the chest.
"At least, that's what Blossom understood from their conversation," she continued. "She felt the same way and didn't want to ask me or her father for more money, but hated that they were over budget and she couldn't contribute to offset the overage. During her conversation with Manuel, he said he wished they had more of a cushion, which hurt her because she couldn't contribute without a job. The funny thing is, this past Sunday she told me there was an issue with the budget, but she downplayed the problem. Then the situation got worse."
"Worse how?" I asked.
Tallulah took a deep breath and slowly released it. "They went to the bank to set up a joint account, and the banker asked about their incomes."
I already knew where the conversation was going, and my stomach sank. "Manuel told me a little about the meeting. Let me guess, Blossom had to explain that she's currently unemployed."
Tallulah nodded. "The banker asked if she was actively interviewing. Manuel explained about her degree and how close she had come with a couple of positions, and then the banker made an offhand remark about how good it was that Blossom had Manuel's income to 'rely on.'"
I muttered a curse under my breath.
"She became upset. According to her, they argued in the car, and Manuel told her she was being dramatic and oversensitive."
I winced. Those words sounded awfully close to something I would have said to his mother during one of our arguments. "So they fought about money, which we had argued about at Knife & Fork."
"Unfortunately, yes. Everything came to a head last night. Blossom told Manuel she didn't want to be a financial burden and wanted to contribute equally to the household. Instead of reassuring her, he became defensive—her words. He suggested that maybe you and I were right about them rushing, and perhaps they should have waited until they were more established."
"Manuel told me he panicked," I said quietly. "According to him, Blossom put words in his mouth and twisted everything he said, and he ended up saying things he didn't mean. One of which was that maybe they needed to take a long hard look at what they were doing."
"As far as my daughter was concerned, he basically told her that he was having second thoughts about her and the marriage."
"Manuel heard her accusations as her having second thoughts abouthim." Resting my elbows on my knees, I stared at the floor. "They're both protecting themselves and are too proud to back down."
"Sounds familiar," Tallulah said in a gentle but pointed voice.
I couldn't argue. Blossom and Manuel's fight sounded very similar to the ones my ex-wife and I used to have before our marriage completely fell apart. One of us defensive, both assuming the worst, and the walls going up instead of coming down.
"I know Manuel loves your daughter," I said, straightening. "When I saw him this morning, he obviously had been crying at some point." His appearance had shocked and wounded me. I wanted to take away his pain and fix his relationship. I hadseen him cry as a child, but as a man, it was gut-wrenching in a different way.
As I listened to him recount what happened between him and Blossom, dread turned to guilt. Had I somehow caused the rift in their relationship? Had the comments I made because of my complicated history come back to haunt the kids?
"I'm sure Blossom loves him, but she seems certain they can't get past this."
We sat in silence for a while, both of us wrestling with the weight of what our children were going through.
"This is my fault," I said.
"No, it's not."
"It is. The first dinner we had together, I made comments about marriage being fifty-fifty and financial contributions, suggesting that they were rushing. I've always made comments to my son about having a partner who can contribute to the household." Guilt sat like acid in my gut. "My words planted doubts, and with the first sign of a problem, he resorted back to the things I said. I love Blossom, and I think she's a wonderful young woman. She's good for my son, and I'm sure I also made her doubt herself because I made her believe her only worth was contributing financially."
Tallulah took my hand. "You don't carry that burden alone. I certainly didn't help. I was so worried about them rushing because of my own failed marriage that I couldn't see they weren't making the same mistakes. I've made comments to Blossom over the past few months—about Manuel, whom I adore now because I see how good he is for her. They believed they were making the right decision until we made them doubt it."
