Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
“We are all a little nervous,” I said, but I kept my hand on my gold ring, turning it slowly.
I looked at the gold-framed mirror on the wall, the same mirror Maribel had avoided weeks ago. Today, she did not look at it either, keeping her eyes fixed on my veil.
“Let us get you down the hall,” Maribel said.
The walk to the church sanctuary was short, but every step felt heavy. The cool autumn air swept into the foyer as the heavy oak doors opened at exactly noon.
Mason stood at the end of the long carpeted aisle, his dark suit fitting him perfectly, though he kept rubbing his collarbone with his thumb.
As I took my first step, my dress rustled against the wooden pews. The guests turned their heads, their faces a blur of smiles.
I did not look at them. I looked past Mason, toward the very front pew on the right side.
Maribel sat there, her chin held high, the blue silk scarf bright against the dark wood of the pew. She was sitting right next to Evelyn, who sat very still with her hands folded in her lap.
