“2:00. I sent you the schedule, Mom.”
“Right. Right. And it’s in Iowa City.”
“Yes, like I’ve said, multiple times.”
“That’s a bit of a drive for us, you know.”
“Mom, it’s 30 minutes.”
“Well, it feels longer when you’re our age.”
“You just flew to Arizona.”
“That’s different.”
“We were sitting.”
My stomach dropped. I knew right then. I knew.
“I’ll see you on the 22nd,” I said,
and hung up before she could hear my voice crack. That night, I told Jaime,
“I don’t think they’re coming.”
“Don’t borrow trouble,” he said. “They RSVP’d.”
“Yes, I know them better than that.”
I should have trusted my gut. Tuesday, November 18th, four days before my wedding, I was at my desk at work reviewing a financial aid package for a first-generation student. My phone rang. Office line. My receptionist’s voice came through the speaker.
“Nancy, line two. It’s your father.”
My father never called me at work. I picked up.
“Nancy, we need to talk about Saturday.”
“What about Saturday?”
I already knew, but I needed to hear him say it.
“Your mother’s sciatica has been really acting up. The doctor said she shouldn’t be sitting in a car for long periods.”
“Dad, it’s 30 minutes.”
“Well, it’s more like 45 with traffic.”
“There’s no traffic between Cedar Rapids and Iowa City on a Saturday afternoon. It’s 30 minutes. I’ve driven it a hundred times.”
“Nancy, don’t be difficult. Your mother is in pain.”
“You just flew to Arizona.”
Silence. Then:
“That was different.”
“How?”
“We were sitting on a plane. We weren’t driving. Plus, Madison really needed us there. It was important to her.”
“And my wedding isn’t important?”
“You have Jaime’s whole family coming. You’ll have plenty of people there. Madison doesn’t have Garrett’s family nearby. She needed us.”
My hand was shaking. I put the phone on speaker and gripped the edge of my desk.
“I need you to understand, Nancy. You’re being selfish. You’ve always been the independent one. Your mother’s health has to come first. You understand that, right?”
“I understand perfectly.”
“Good. We’ll send a nice gift. And we’ll see you at Christmas.”
I hung up. I sat at my desk for three minutes. Then I opened my wedding seating chart and deleted their names from the front row. I left the seats empty. I texted Jaime. They’re not coming. He called immediately.
“What?”
“I’ll tell you tonight. I have to work.”
I helped that first-generation student for 20 more minutes, explained how to accept her loans, how to budget for books, how to apply for emergency funds if she needed them. Then I went to the bathroom and cried. My uncle George called me the next day. My father’s brother.
“Your dad called me. Said they’re not coming to your wedding.”
