December 2014 – Coral Gables, Florida

For reasons that shall become clear, I was pissed. 

I responded from my seat at the dining table, “Bravo, whore.  Don’t send me an invite.” 

“As if I would, you hateful cow!  You’re just jealous!” 

I stood up.  Ava backed up. 

She might be twenty-six and fit but I was twenty-nine and fully capable of kicking her ass.  Both of us knew that.

Our dear mother stepped between us.  “You two listen to me.  You can duke it out like white trash when I’m dead.  Until then, you’ll fake civility.”  She shook her head.  “Every single one of my sisters brought normal children into the world…” 

I interrupted, “Mom, normal?  What about that lurky kid of Aunt Jackie’s?”  No way was that man playing with a full deck.

Piercing me with a glare that should have terrified me and probably would have if she wasn’t five-two, she hissed, “I have girls.  Daughters are supposed to be a mother’s joy.  You owe me this experience.” 

“You expect me to go to her wedding after what…” 

“Petra, I expect you to be her maid of honor.” 

I was stunned. 

Ava lost her mind instantly.  “You can’t make me put her in my bridal party, Mom!  She’s horrid!”

Pointing her finger in Ava’s face, Mom barked, “You’re the horrid one!  After what you pulled…Christos!  You won’t shame this family, Ava.  You hit your quota for the next decade.  You’ll do right by me in this one thing and we’ll pretend to the world we’re not insane.” 

“Mom!”

“Not one more word, Ava.  You’ll have the wedding I pay for and you’ll smile at your sister in your bridal party.” 

“Daddy would want me to be happy.  You can’t ask me to put up with Petra on my special day.” 

Folding her hands in front of her, Mom cleared her throat. 

Smarter than my sister by about three dozen IQ points, I stepped back and braced myself. 

Ava never saw the hurricane coming. 

“You bring up your father to me, Ava?  You dare to guilt me over a man who left us for his masseuse?  Who hasn’t seen you or your sister in seventeen years?”  Mom sucked her teeth.  “It took me half that time to track the bastard down for a divorce.” 

“You don’t understand…”

“No.  It’s you who doesn’t understand.  When you overspend six months of every year, it’s my money that helps you.  When you tell me you wish to marry this anóito, this fool of a man, I know already you expect outrageous luxury.” 

“Just make her attend and I’ll pose for a photo.” 

Mom reached up to stroke my sister’s face.  “You will do as I bid, you will play happy family, or so help me god, I’ll cut you off without a cent.  Petra, I’ll stop making you yogurt.”

Bomb dropped, our mother walked calmly from the room. 

Being cut off meant horrific things for Ava.  Mom supplied her cold hard cash on the regular. 

For me, it meant putting a few scratches on the awesome relationship I had with my mom…and no more homemade yogurt.  I glanced at the bowl I made myself the minute I arrived at her house. 

Store-bought just didn’t compare. 

I wasn’t stupid.  Our mother didn’t make threats.  She made promises with ice water in her veins if you pissed her off.  Her true wrath was no joke. 

Sighing heavily, I realized I’d have no choice but to suck it up and pretend to like Ava’s skank ass to the world at large for one awful day. 

“I’ll be in your wedding party, bitch.” 

“See if you can’t drop some pounds by then or the dresses I picked will be ruined, heifer.” 

She started to walk around me and I stepped in her way. 

“Ever talk to me like that again and I’ll hit you where it hurts.  Your designer clothes, bags, makeup collection, and shoe rack.  I’ll douse everything you own in bleach and burn your pathetic life to the ground.” 

“You’re fucking crazy, Petra.” 

“No.  I’m the only person who doesn’t stand for your utter bullshit.  Grow up or don’t.  Don’t talk to me like one of your servile friends.” 

I stepped back and after a strained moment, she walked to the room she still occupied in our childhood home. 

Mom leaned against the doorframe and chuckled when Ava’s door slammed.  “You’re a little crazy, honey.” 

“All part of my charm, Mom.”  Hands on my hips, I said, “You realize this isn’t going to go down the way you hope it will.” 

She winked.  “Just don’t make any public scenes.” Turning, she said over her shoulder, “Ignore your sister, get your aunts to help with details, and avoid her idiot fiancé.  You’ll end up in jail if you don’t.” 

My mom knows me so well.