Chapter 14 - The Wedding Album
Three months after the wedding, our photographer delivered the album.
I almost didn’t open it.
Nathan made dinner.
Molly sat between us on the couch.
We turned pages.
Getting ready.
The ceremony.
Nathan crying when I walked down the aisle.
Molly holding my train.
Then the reception.
The photographer had stopped shooting during Paige’s outburst.
Good.
There was no ruined cake.
No slap.
No shattered flowers.
The next photograph showed something taken twenty minutes afterward.
Nathan and me dancing.
My mascara was slightly smudged.
One section of my bouquet was missing.
But I was smiling.
Really smiling.
Molly pointed.
“You look happy.”
“I was.”
“Even after Aunt Paige?”
“Yes.”
She thought about that.
Then grinned.
“That probably made her mad.”
Nathan nearly choked on his drink.
I laughed.
Maybe a little too hard.
That photograph became my favorite.
Not because I looked perfect.
Because I didn’t.
The day had been damaged.
It had not been taken.
That distinction became important.
Paige lost access to Molly indefinitely.
Mom and Dad stopped pressuring me.
Grant continued therapy and became more careful about what adult information reached our daughter.
Nathan and I began our marriage without pretending the past had vanished.
We talked about it.
Then we put it down.
Paige remained in counseling.
Mom occasionally told me she seemed different.
I always answered:
“That’s good.”
Nothing more.
I did not monitor Paige’s healing like it was a project.
She had spent years making my life part of her identity.
I would not return the favor.
Six months after the wedding, a package arrived.
Inside was a new bridal bouquet.
Same flowers Paige had destroyed.
No card except one sentence.
I had no right to touch what was yours.
I knew the handwriting.
Nathan asked:
“What do you want to do with it?”
I looked at the flowers.
Then at my original wedding album.
“Nothing.”
We donated the bouquet to a local nursing home.
May you like
I did not need a replacement.
The wedding had already survived.
