Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 25301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
“Oh, shit!” she exclaims. “I need to get the mail. I’m expecting a check.”
She hops up from the couch and runs out of the apartment without saying anything more. When she returns, all she’s got in her hand is a cream-colored, fancy-looking envelope.
“Is that the check you were expecting? It’s a refund from your school, right? Although I thought they’d just use a plain envelope.”
My girlfriend shakes her head, expression solemn.
“This isn’t it.”
“Are you okay, honey? What’s going on?”
She throws the envelope on the table and I see that her name is lettered in calligraphy. Sure enough, Faith lets out a bitter chuckle.
“It looks like Mommy Dearest is getting married again.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Aren’t you going to open it?”
“I don’t know why I should.”
That makes me pause.
“Is something wrong, honey? What did I miss?” I ask carefully.
At that, Faith lets out a huge sigh and picks up the envelope before tearing it open. Sure enough, there’s a wedding invitation inside. But instead of the usual pre-printed card, the invitation looks to be hand-lettered in elaborate calligraphy.
“Oh wow, did your mom write these invitations herself?”
Faith snorts.
“Probably, because Samantha would do something like that. Are you free on August seventh?”
I smile, unsure what to say.
“Should I be?”
My girlfriend lets out another exasperated sigh.
“Yes. No. I guess so! She’s getting married at the Medina Grand Hotel.”
I squint. “Are you serious? I didn’t even know your mom lives in Medina because you never talk about her.”
Faith rolls her eyes, obviously in a bad mood.
“Honestly, Samantha and I are barely in touch, and it’s for the better. Last I heard, she was in St. Louis, but I don’t know if that’s still true. Maybe she’s since moved back to Medina. I have no idea.”
I hold up a hand.
“Honey, calm down. You’re getting really agitated. It’s just a wedding, which would be three hours at most. It’s not a big deal, even if it’s your mom we’re talking about.”
Faith shrugs again unhappily, and swivels to throw her legs on my lap once more.
“My parents got divorced when I was younger, and you know that my mom never wanted to be a mother. So my dad got custody, and Samantha kind of disappeared.”
I nod slowly.
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that.”
She huffs in exasperation again, although I know it’s not at me.
“Well, this is the kind of thing Samantha would do. She just pops in when it’s convenient for her, never mind that we haven’t talked in ages. Plus, who is this guy?” she says, squinting at the invitation. “Georgie Fits? What kind of name is that? But as you can tell, I’ve never met my mom’s fiancé. He’s probably her sixth husband, come to think of it.”
That makes me laugh a little.
“You mentioned your mom was a serial bride, but I didn’t know she’d gotten to number six.”
Faith tosses the invitation down in disgust.
“It might be six, or it could be five, or it could be eight. Who knows? Samantha does whatever she wants in life, and honestly, I’m surprised she can even find someone to get married to at this point. I mean, what must it be like, knowing that you’re husband number six? The chances for happy matrimony aren’t good, don’t you think?”
I chuckle.
“Well, that’s one way of putting it.”
She nods emphatically.
“Let’s just watch the show,” she grumbles. “I don’t want to think about my mom right now.”
I do as Faith asks and hit play on the remote. The credits roll, and soon we’re watching something about a regular girl who bumps into a Scandinavian prince on the streets of New York City. It’s far-fetched, but not too bad, come to think of it. Production values are high, at least. Suddenly, Faith’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
“My mom and I are totally different people,” she says suddenly.
I turn the volume down on the movie.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Samantha would never sit here in sweatpants, that’s for sure. If she knew I walked to the grocery store like this, she’d probably have a heart attack.”
I nod. “Yeah, some people are weird that way, but I think you’re beautiful in your sweatpants, sweetheart.”
Faith blushes. “Thank you, Hunter.”
“I mean it. You’re gorgeous, honey, and I hope you know that. With or without make-up.”
Faith just sighs again.
“Yeah, but growing up, my mom was constantly critiquing my looks. It’s part of the reason why I was relieved when my parents got a divorce. Can you imagine that? What child wants their parents to get divorced? But I did because I didn’t want to be under her constant scrutiny anymore.”
I take her small palm in my own.
“I’m sorry, Faith. That’s not how a mother should be.”
She nods and takes a deep breath.
“I kind of get it because Samantha is a hairdresser, so appearances matter. She works in a world where physical presentation is her coin in trade. But I just wish she wasn’t so hard on me. I don’t want to be like her, and dye my hair platinum blonde. I like my brown curls! I like sweatpants!”