PART 2: I WORE MY LATE MOTHER’S WEDDING DRESS—THEN MY MOTHER-IN-LAW PUSHED ME INTO THE POOL

PART 2 — THE PUSH BY THE POOL

Our wedding was at an outdoor restaurant just outside the city.

There were string lights over the patio, ivy climbing the garden wall, and a swimming pool off to one side with a low stone edge and clear blue water. It was elegant without feeling stiff, which was exactly what we wanted.

The ceremony was beautiful.

The reception felt even better.

I started to think maybe she had decided not to ruin the night.

My father’s toast made me cry. Ryan looked at me like he still could not believe I was real. For most of the evening, Patricia behaved herself. She smiled too brightly, complimented flowers she had complained about for a month, and stayed close to the table where her country club friends were sitting.

I started to think maybe she had decided not to ruin the night.

Then the cake came out.

The staff rolled it onto the patio, and the photographer began gathering people closer. Guests shifted

toward us with their phones raised. Ryan and I were standing near the pool because that was where the best angle was supposed to be for the cake-cutting photos.

I had caught Patricia looking at the pool twice that night.

I remember the photographer saying, “Stay right there.”

I remember Ryan squeezing my hand.

I had caught Patricia looking at the pool twice that night.

Not admiring it, exactly. I seemed like she was considering it for something

Then she started walking toward us.

She made a small sound, like she was losing her balance, and slammed her shoulder into me.

At first I thought she wanted to step into the photo. That would have annoyed me, but nothing more. Then she glanced at the cake, at the guests, and at the ground near the pool.

And then she moved.

She made a small sound, like she was losing her

balance, and slammed her shoulder into me.

I had one second to understand that this was not an accident.

Then Patricia leaned down close enough for only me to hear.

Then I was in the water.

The cold hit first. Then the weight of the dress dragged me down. Then I heard the noise of everyone shouting at once.

When I came up, my hair was half out of its pins, my makeup was stinging my eyes, and the skirt of my mother’s gown was spread around me in the pool, heavy and suddenly fragile.

I heard Ryan yell my name.

Then Patricia leaned down close enough for only me to hear.

Patricia lifted her hands and looked around at the guests.

“Well,” she whispered, “you’ve finally gotten rid of that rag.”

Ryan and two of his cousins pulled me out. Water streamed off the dress and across the patio

stones. I was shaking so hard I could barely hold onto Ryan’s arm.

Patricia lifted her hands and looked around at the guests.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said loudly. “I slipped. Someone get her a towel instead of staring.”

Some people looked relieved. An accident was easier to believe than what had really happened.

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