Can I Get My Wedding in Black?

Ch. 2- Mama

Ch. II: Mama

13 months until wedding

          Last night, Cyrus, Malcolm, and I decided that we were all going to personally bring my mother the news. Cyrus assures  me that, despite the fact we don’t get along, mom would still be happy to receive my company. My father died eight years ago, and she lives alone three hours off. To be honest, we’ve never really gotten along. It always seems as if it’s never been enough. And in the two years I’ve been at college, she hasn’t spoken to me, not even to call. She hasn’t invited me to any family gathering, and now I wonder why I’m even letting her get involved with my wedding.

          But before I see my mama, I need to pick up a friend. With “Sound of Madness” by Shinedown blaring through the car, I listen to Malcolm’s constant and pointless rambling.

          “SO, I was thinking, for the wedding, I make your cake a towering, ten-layered white masterpiece.”

          “I’m not really…” I start, but I’m drowned out by his loud talking.

          “And then, it’s covered in black ornamental decorations! I’ll put pretty black candy roses on the sides, and on the top…”

          “Malcolm,” Cyrus stops him, “It’s great that you want to help plan, and the cake sounds amazing, but this is our wedding, and…”

          “It’s alright, man,” Malcolm runs a hand through his ginger, volumous hair and sighs, “I feel you.” I turn up the music and direct Cyrus on where to turn. As we pull into a parking lot, I step out and knock on one of the apartments. The door opens, and I’m met with a blonde-haired girl that’s just a few years older than I.

          “Evaline, I’m ready for your mom’s! What’s up, did someone die?” My high-school friend, Adrianne, greets me.

          “Unfortunately,” I smirk, “No. But I do have some good news.”

          “That’s strange. What is it?” Adrienne inquires. I merely drag her into Cyrus’s car.

          “…And for the wedding dress…” We walk in on another one of Malcolm’s rants.

          “Wedding dress? What wedding dress?!” My other friend demands. I can only smirk and exclaim,

          “Surprise!” The look on Adrianne’s face is one of excitement and happiness, but it seems as if within that I see something else. I cannot place the feeling with my friend’s inner thoughts, but I dismiss it without a single word. We finally get Malcolm to shut up, and we have a peaceful three hour drive to mama’s house.

          We pull into the driveway of the big white house at around noon. The first thing that comes out of anyone’s mouth is,

          “Finally, we’re finished with that goth metal marathon!” Adrianne exhales, due to the fact that she’s a country girl. She then looks at me and, seeing my scared stiff expression, pats me on the back and says, “Don’t be worried, Evaline. You’ll be fine, and your mom will be happy to see you.” Well, Adrianne, it’s hard not to worry when you last left your mother in a raging fight and your last words to her were, “You’re lucky if I ever come back!” Sighing, I step up to the friendly-looking doormat and ring the doorbell. Just like always, the classical chime sequence can be heard echoing through the house.

          Silence follows. Malcolm, Cyrus, Adrianne, and I wait for an answer anxiously. After about 10 seconds, I ring again. Still nothing follows.

          “Well,” Adrianne speaks up, “Someone very well may be dead!”

          “Hush, I’m trying to listen for footsteps!”

          “That’s not creepy at all, Malcolm!” Cyrus retorts sarcastically to my friend’s comment. And that’s when the door creaks open.

          “Evaline?” A woman with dark brown hair answers the door, a curious expression on her aging face. After choking down a nervous gulp, I manage to nod. Josephine Roster does not embrace me. She does not smile at me. Instead, she looks me up and down.

          “Who do you think you are in that getup?!”She exclaims. I shrug in reply, and she ushers all of us into the establishment that I spent my childhood in. Once we’re all seated with iced tea, my mother gives me a cross look. Frowning, she asks promptly,

          “What is it that you want?”

          “Can’t I come to pay you a simple visit?” I question innocently.

          “Considering that you treated me quite rudely last time I saw you, then I don’t assume so. Why are you here, then?”

          “Well…” I take a deep breath and then gesture to my fiancée. “This is Cyrus. We are…”

          “Pregnant?” Mother stops me, an expression of dull displeasure on her face.

          “No, mom! Engaged, we’re just engaged!” My tone grows completely freaked out at her assumption, and Cyrus backs me up by saying,

          “I wouldn’t…she wouldn’t, Ms. Roster!” My mom stares at us for a minute, eyeing us both. My four comrades and I exchange glances, because right now my mom is just like a ticking bomb, waiting for something to set her off. Adrianne, looking to the bright side of things like always, muses in a cheery tone,

          “She was coming to invite you to the wedding!”

          “Was she, now?” My mother arches an eyebrow. Malcolm turns to me, a shocked look on his face. I can only nod, then turn back to my mother.

          “First off, when did you meet him?” Josephine asks.

          “Two months ago,” Cyrus replies for me.

          “Where?”

          “Macy’s. She was listening to music, wasn’t paying attention, and ran smack into me.”

          “That’s just like you, Evaline. I should have known,” She huffs. Mentally begging on my knees for approval, I grin and ask,

          “What do you think?” Her reply is two words.

          “I don’t.” Of course, who but Malcolm gets worked up and yells,

          “WHAT?! How could you not approve of this happy, wonderful couple? How could you be such a cruel…”

          “You’re too young, Evaline,” Mother states. I can’t help but give off a dramatic eye roll.

          “This is my life,” I yell, “It’s not fair!”

          “I am your mother, Evaline. It’s all fair. I know best, trust me.”

          “How can I trust you when…” I am drowned out by her yelling,

          “Mother knows best! Now, if you’re not going to listen to me, then I don’t want any part of it! I will support you at a later time in your life, but not now!” Josephine Roster is so worked up that she is now standing and making drastic arm movements. Appalled, I stand and, without another word, beckon my friends over, and we exit.

        I break down once we get in the car.