No explanation.
No conversation.
Just chairs in the yard, white ribbons, vows, a giant cake, and guests trying to smile like this was normal.
I was still wearing black.
From the kitchen window, I watched Corrine directing someone to pull out my mom’s tulips.
“They’ll look messy in photos,” she said.
Those tulips were my mom’s favorite thing every spring.
“Those were Mom’s,” I told her.
“Your mother loved projects,” Corrine replied loudly. “But she made this family hard to live in. We’re fixing that.”
That sentence told me everything I needed to know.
This wasn’t grief bringing people together.
This was something else.
For illustrative purposes only
The Ring
An hour before the ceremony, Corrine cornered me.
She held her hand out so the diamond caught the light.
“You should be grateful,” she said. “Your dad needs someone.”
“My mom hasn’t even been gone two weeks.”
“Honey,” she said sweetly, “this is what healing looks like.”
No.
This was what replacement looked like.
Behind the Shed
I left before I exploded.
That’s how I ended up behind the shed, trying not to throw up while guests clinked champagne glasses.
That’s when Mason found me.
Corrine’s son.
Nineteen. Quiet. Always polite.
That day he looked like he was carrying a secret too heavy for his body.
“Tessa,” he said, voice shaking. “I need to tell you something.”
I braced for some speech about understanding or forgiveness.
