Page 28 of Sister of the Bride

I freeze in my tracks, a reflex after twenty-six years of my mother whipping out my full name only when I’m in the deepest trouble. I turn to see her staring me down on the sidewalk. If looks could kill, I’d be in sixteen pieces, encased in concrete, and sinking to the bottom of the harbor in Southie.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I just—”

She softens immediately and holds up a hand to silence me. “Honey, it’s okay. I know this is shocking, and I probably could have handled it a lot better. I know it means big changes in your life. Much more for you than for Polly. But honey, that’s part of the reason why I’m doing this. I know you feel like you need to take care of the restaurant as a way to take care of me and honor your father. And I have appreciated that help every single day since your dad died. But I want you to liveyourlife. Not mine, and not your father’s.

“I’ve seen all the sacrifices you’ve made to keep the restaurant running. I know you’re the reason we’re not in danger of closing every other month. I see all the work you’ve done, but honey, I don’t want you to have to work like that forever. You’re so smart and talented. You deserve to find your own way.”

Find my own way.My own way.My own waywhere? Where am I going if not down the stairs to Marino’s every day?

I stand there on the hot pavement and let the reality of my future settle over me. The problem is, that future is dark and shapeless, just a big blank. When I open my mouth, my words come out on a sob. “But I don’t even know what that looks like for me,” I say.

Mom pulls me in, my chin resting on her shoulder as she strokes my curls. “You’ll figure it out,” she says. “You’re smart and driven and resourceful. And the money will give you time to search. I know there’s a path out there for you, Pippin. I’m just trying to help you find it.”

“Okay,” I sniffle, trying not to get snot on my mother’s linen shirt. I pull back and wipe at what I’m sure are mascara tracks underneath my eyes. “I’m sorry for yelling, it’s just…it’s a lot.”

My mother nods and gives me a sad smile. “I know, Pip. It’s okay to be sad. But be open to change, okay?”

I try to smile, but the lie of it is all over my face. Change? I’m good at a lot of things, but change has never been one of them. Not even when I was little. I’ve still never forgiven my third-grade teacher for going on maternity leave in the middle of the year. The only thing I like to change on a regular basis is the guy I’m dating. Still, I nod.

Then Mom levels me with a look. “As for the wedding, Polly is happy. It may not be what you would choose for yourself, but this isn’t about you. Your only job here is to love her and help celebrate her happiness.”

I sigh. “And help organize her shindig.”

“Hershindig. It’shers. And if you don’t think you can honor that, then you need to step aside now.”

She’s right, of course. But there’s no way I’m going to tell my twin sister I won’t help plan her wedding. If this thing is happening—and I really need to stop saying “if”—then I’m all in.

“Now, promise me that for the next four months, you will not sigh, roll your eyes, or perform mental math as Polly celebrates her love.”

“I promise.”

“Hand in the air or it’s not a swear,” Mom says, invoking her favorite tactic from when we were kids and Polly and I got into some knock-down, drag-out fight. She called them our “solemn vows,” and we took them very seriously…when we were six. But I’m twenty-six now, and standing on the sidewalk, it feels a little ridiculous. But I raise my hand anyway.

“I swear,” I say, letting out a whoosh of breath. “I’m sorry.”

Mom nods, satisfied by the sincerity of my solemn vow. “Forgiven. Though you owe Polly one of those too. Now, are you coming to lunch?”

The thought of sitting at a table and trying to be a person in front of my family and a restaurant full of strangers while this bombshell that incinerated my entire life smolders in front of me makes my stomach do seven cartwheels.

I shake my head. “I think I still need a little space, if that’s okay.”

Mom pulls me in for a final hug. “Going for a run?”

“Yeah,” I say, already yearning for the feel of my feet on the pavement, the city rushing by.

“Be safe,” Mom says. “See you back at home.”

As I walk away, I try not to focus on the fact thathomeisn’t going to be there forever, like I always thought. It isn’t going to be there very much longer at all. It feels, in fact, like it’s already gone.

Chapter13

Toby

What do you call cheese that isn’t yours?

Nacho cheese!

Pippin

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