Mother Dearest

Chapter 9

A flurry of bridesmaids darts through the dressing room; I sigh when I realize I barely know most of them. Catching sight of myself in a mirror, I scowl at my reflection, yanking on the corner of my bow tie.

"You look fine." April appears behind me in the mirror, reaching up to straighten my tie. "There. Now don't touch it again."

"I can-" Turning around, I blink at her. "Well, don't you look pretty."

She tries not to smile, but she does anyway, shaking her head at me. "You're such a nerd, Gil. Did Sara reach you?"

"Nope."

"She said to tell you that the sign language interpreter is in place, and your mother was seated up front."

"She got a sign language interpreter?" I can feel a goofy grin spreading across my face. "She's so good to me."

She laughs. "Have you seen her in her dress?"

"Not yet."

"She looks gorgeous."

"I'll bet."

April works her jaw, looking at me fondly. "Hey Gil? I just wanted to say... being here, with you guys... it means a lot."

I nod, feeling a little emotional myself. "I should be thanking you. It was your decision, after all."

"Yeah, but I just keep thinking... if you'd never come out to meet us, we wouldn't be here right now." She starts waving her hands lightly in front of her teary eyes. "Oh, man, I knew it was stupid to put mascara on."

"Think happy thoughts," I tell her, putting a hand on her shoulder timidly. "I'll let you sneak some of my champagne at the reception..."

She snorts, settling down and taking a deep breath. "So, you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." I look back at the mirror, reaching up a hand to fiddle with my tie again, but April swats it away.

"Go stand at the front of the church, James Bond."

The pews are nearly filled by the time I make it inside. My mother waves when she sees me, grinning widely. I wave back, striding up the aisle and taking my place next to ushers who can't even be half my age. This whole day is too bizarre for words.

My mom waves again to get my attention, then signs Your bow tie is crooked. My hands fly up to fix it, before I catch her broad wink. I almost sign something foul back, but you never can tell who else in the room knows sign language.

The organ starts up then, gentle strains of Pachelbel's Canon in D. I clasp my hands in front of me and try to look distinguished, as the first bridesmaid appears. There's nine of them in all, floating down the aisle with big smiles and bigger bouquets.

And then there's my Sara, radiant in her burgundy dress. Her smile is tremulous as she catches sight of me, and I know even from this distance that she's struggling not to cry. She reaches the front of the room, and then all eyes turn to the back.

April rounds the bend, Laurie clutching her arm, and they make their way toward us. I can't imagine I'll ever feel this awful again in this lifetime, as I watch someone else escorting my daughter up the aisle. But I force myself to concentrate on April's expression - as joyous and nervous as Sara's was when I married her ten years ago.

"Who gives this woman in marriage?" The minister asks.

"I do," Laurie declares, glowing with pride.

o-o-o-o-o

I'm on my third scotch by the time Sara finds me at the reception.

"That's your last one," she murmurs, slipping into the seat beside me.

"I'm a grown man, you know," I tell her, as if that makes a difference. We both know I'll do as she says.

"She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" Sara points to the dance floor, where April and her new husband Edward are spinning together, lost in their own world. "They're so happy."

"He's a punk."

"Gil!" She laughs, slapping my arm lightly. "He is not a punk!"

"Is too." I nurse my drink slowly, now that I know it has to last. "Any thirty-year-old man who marries a twenty-three-year-old girl is a punk."

"Oh, I'm not sure we want to go there, because I think you'll lose."

I just grunt in reply. April started working at the plasma physics lab after graduating from Princeton University at the ripe old age of nineteen. She met Edward at the lab, and the rest is history.

"Her wedding gown is beautiful, isn't it?" Sara watches them wistfully.

"I should've been the one to walk her up the aisle."

"What?"

"That's my duty. My right as a father." My vision grows blurry, and I tell myself it's from the scotch.

"You knew it was coming, honey," she says softly. "She made us maid of honor and best man, she didn't have to do that."

"My duty," I repeat, my eyes burning.

"Gil."

"It's my-"

"Hey," she says loudly, clapping her hands twice to get my attention. My eyes fly to hers, and I can tell she's dead serious. "This day is not about you."

"But-"

"Tonight we can go back to the hotel room and cry and drink ourselves into oblivion. But right now, we're at April's reception, and this is all about her. This is going to be the happiest day of her life, and you are not going to begrudge her that. Got it?"

I nod, pushing my glass away.

"Good. Now take me out on the dance floor."

Blinking hard, I stand up. "How does this make April's day better?"

"It doesn't," she says, taking my hand. "It makes mine better. You look hot in that tux."

o-o-o-o-o

I've just finished my salmon when April appears next to me, looking uncertain. "Hey, Gil."

"Hey, kiddo." I get up to kiss her cheek. "How's everything going?"

"Great, it's going great. I was just wondering..."

"Yes?"

"Would you, um... would you like to dance with me?"

I glance over at Sara's beaming face, then nod quickly, following April out to the empty dance floor. Edward appears shortly thereafter, leading his mother behind him.

"April?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this the traditional father-daughter, mother-son dance?"

She smiles shyly, placing one hand on my shoulder. "You may not have always been my dad, Gil, but you've always been my father."

I know I won't remember the name of the song we dance to, or the dance steps we take. But I'll never forget this particular moment, the way the lights twinkle in my little girl's eyes, the way she looks at me with such open trust and affection. I may have missed thirteen years of moments, but I made it for this one.

"I wish I could have been your dad," I say, tucking her head under my chin. "That way, I could claim I had a hand in creating the bright, capable, wonderful woman you've become."

"Well, you know," she says, pulling back earnestly. "There was a recent article in the American Journal of Advanced Genetics that says who we become is actually determined by a ratio of-"

"Okay, you convinced me," I chuckle, kissing her forehead. "You are my girl."

o-o-o-o-o

Sara comes out of the bathroom wrapped in the complimentary hotel robe, warm and rosy-skinned after a long soak in the Jacuzzi. Yawning loudly, she drops onto the bed next to me. "God, I could sleep for a week."

"Me too." I stretch out my arm, beckoning, and she snuggles against me.

"Tonight wasn't so bad, was it?"

My mind skips back to the memory of dancing with April. "No, I guess it turned out okay."

"It was nice that she brought you out for the father-daughter dance."

"Yeah, it was." I run my fingertips lightly over her arm, and feel her stiffen slightly.

"Hey Gil?"

"Mm?"

"There's, um... there's something I need to talk to you about."

Sara shifts, sitting up against the headboard and chewing her lip. It occurs to me that the last time she looked this conflicted, she was about to tell me about April.

My eyes widen. "We don't have another kid out there, do we?"

"What?" She blinks, then laughs. "No, nothing like that."

"Then what's wrong?"

She swallows. "There's something I've been keeping from you, and I'm afraid you're going to be upset with me."

"Something big?"

"Yes. I had my reasons, but... I just hope..."

I sit up next to her, perturbed. "Sara, what is it?" I ask, taking her hand.

"April knows."

"Knows what?"

She squeezes my hand. "She knows we're her parents."

I just stare at her, dumbfounded.

"She told me the day I met her," she continues. "Pulled me aside at one point when you were talking with my mom. She'd figured it out because of the otosclerosis connection, and how much she and I looked alike."

"Oh," I manage.

"I explained everything to her; why I'd given her up, how you hadn't known about her... When we'd talked it all out, she made me promise not to tell you or Mom that she knew. And in return, she said she'd keep in contact with us. I felt like it was the only real choice."

There's a strange look on Sara's face. There's trepidation, to be sure. But there's also a bit of a glow. She's proud, I realize. She's proud that April confided in her, the same way that I was proud when my daughter had reached out to form a special connection with me.

Which, I suppose, was exactly what April intended.

"It's okay," I tell her finally, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss to her lips. "I would've made the same decision."

She heaves a sigh of relief. "Thank you, honey."

"You're welcome." We settle back into bed, more relaxed this time.

"We can't tell my mom, though," she adds.

Please. At this rate, she was probably the first to know. "No, of course not," I nod seriously.

"It's weird, isn't it," she murmurs, turning out the light.

"What's weird?"

"We're the parents of a married woman."

"Yeah." I know what she means. We're not young, but we're not quite old, either.

Slowly, the day melts away into a dark, deep sleep.

I dream of grandchildren.

ThThe End

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