Dancing with your wife, who has a frightened, clingy cat on her arm on your wedding day and not making her put it down, but respecting it.
“I love you,” I say as I take her hand and we improvise our dance.
At some point, Bella takes her place, and Victoria dances with an old friend of hers.
“It’s the day,” Bella says.
“What day?”
“The day you said would never come,” she says. “We’re partying together. You’re bloody married!”
“Shut up and dance,” I hiss at her.
When the day finally becomes a night, and we’re released from all the people, I have a moment to reconcile. I sit in the Range Rover with Pebbles on my arm still, and I watch Victoria laughingwith the neighbour lady. My stand-in mother. The stranger, who loved me more than my own mother.
It’s the moment I realise my mother really did not attend the wedding. My mother, with whom I had a fallout over the relationship with Victoria. My mother, who called me names and stupid for not being a teacher anymore, but pursuing an acting career. My mother, who is not here, because I don’t want her here.
I decided. I. Not she. And I am finally free of her.
I have everything I ever needed right here.
“Ready?” asks Henry from the driver's seat, Porridge on his lap, when Victoria sits down and closes the door.
“Yes,” she says and adds with a glance at me. “There is something I cannot wait to do.”
“Wait, where is Bella?” I ask.
“She has um—“ begins Henry, but I don’t need him to finish.
“Who?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Leo,” Henry says.
“No, she didn’t,” I say.
“Pretty sure she did,” says Henry. “Walked in on them.”
I groan.
Whatever.
Bella will be Bella.
“You know what,” I say. “Let her have the time of her life. She finally got to bang the man she always dreamed of.”
Henry does want to say something, but he restrains himself.
We’re back at Glenmere half an hour later. Back in my room, I free Pebbles from her train and place her on my blanket. She is finally ready to let go in the comfort of her known home.
“You are awaited downstairs,” Henry tells me, who has brought up Porridge and a big cardboard box with a ribbon. “You're supposed to wear this.”
I grin and open the box.
Black leather, harness, bra. I close the box. Although he might have been the one who bought it, I don’t need him watch me put it on.
“Mia,” he says. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. For everything,” I say and pat him on the shoulder. He is quite alright.
