Page 28 of Our Big White Lie
She’d scoffed and waved me away. “I’d rather do this than spend time around Grandma Ratched and her harpy daughter. Besides, my handwriting is better than yours.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
So I’d left her to it, and now I was here, walking up Grandma’s long driveway, past the cars of everyone else who’d already arrived. My parents were already here, fortunately; Dad was pretty good at casually redirecting conversations when his mom or sister started on their bullshit. Hopefully he’d be on his game today.
Inside, the party was already underway, so I slipped in without much fuss. I left my gift on the table with everyone else’s, then went into the living room to say hi to my mom, grandma, and some aunts. From the occasional sharpclack, the guys were downstairs playing pool, and I made a quick escape to join them.
Staying down here kept everything light and fun for a couple of hours. I bantered with my dad, brother, and uncles, and we played pool until Grandma called everyone up for dinner.
That was when my apprehension really started to set in. All through dinner, every time Grandma or Aunt Elizabeth so much as glanced my way, my insides knotted even tighter. They hadn’t said anything yet, but they would. They nearly always did, especially when I was doing something to “draw attention” to being gay. They’d had comments when I’d moved in with an ex-girlfriend, plenty more after we’d broken up, and God knew they wrung their hands—loudly—after I’d been Marco’s best woman. The fact that no one had made a comment after I’d come up from playing pool with the guys didn’t suggest they were going to keep their thoughts to themselves; they were just waiting for the right moment to announce their disapproval.
Couldn’twait.
And I didn’t have to wait long.
After dinner, I got pulled into a conversation with my sister-in-law and one of my other aunts. They were both excited about my wedding and were full of questions about it, and I admittedly lost myself in that discussion for a few minutes.
Before I knew it, other aunts and my mom were joining in… and both Grandma and Aunt Elizabeth were in the room. Both scowling. Both quiet.
Aww, crap. I needed to find a way to extricate myself from this.
Theclackof pool balls downstairs made me twitchy. All I needed to do was bow out gracefully from this conversation, and I could make my escape.
Not an easy task when I was at thecenterof the conversation. Crap.
“Well,” Aunt Debbie said, “if you need a florist, I know one who is fantastic. And she’ll probably give you a deal because we’re family.”
I smiled. “Sure. Send me the number.” Ava and I already had a florist lined up, but I knew Aunt Debbie—she’d try to sell me her florist until I gave in. It was best to just smile, nod, and say I’d look into it.
The conversation hit a lull right then, and at that same moment, Grandma pushed herself up from her armchair. “I’m going to go get the dishwasher started. Does anyone need anything?”
“We’re fine, Mom.” My mom rose. “Let me help you.”
They started for the kitchen, and I was ready to jump up and bolt for the basement.
The instant they were out of earshot, though, Aunt Elizabeth pinned me with a look. “Victoria, is it true what Mother said? About the man officiating your…” She paused, nose wrinkling slightly. “…wedding?”
I stared at her. “Huh?”
Her frown intensified. “She said you’re being married by a—” Elizabeth looked around, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re being married by aSatanist?”
“Oh. That.” I laughed. “No, he’s not.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So why does my mother believe he is?”
“Probably for the same reason she thinksI’mgoing to burn in Hell,” I said dryly.
Elizabeth eyed me. Then she seemed to make the connection. “So he’s a gay man.” She said it like the words were ashes on her tongue.
“He is. And I’m a gay woman.”
My aunt’s jaw worked. “So you’re a woman, marrying another woman, and your wedding is being presided over by a gay man who my mother believes is a Satanist.”
I pretended to consider it, then shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“And you expect us all to support you?”
“Why not?” I shrugged again, as flippantly as possible this time. “I’ve been out since I was fifteen. Me marrying a woman isn’t news to anyone.”
