Emory

 

My sisters, mom and myself have just finished decorating for the reception. I didn’t want a big wedding, only our family and a few close friends in attendance. I did, however, give in and give my approval for a big reception. I’ve never been one to enjoy being thrust into the spotlight. I’m not big on fanfare, but for my family and friends I’m willing to do so, for an hour or two—tops. I’m trying not to sacrifice my wishes for this and didn’t allow them to go too much overboard with decorations and such. Which is why I had to be here to supervise, if I’d left it up to them, the entire place would look like it vomited lace.

“Let’s go grab something to eat, I’m starving,” Rainey says.

“I could eat, but first I need to pump. My breasts are sore and full of milk,” Ariel informs us.

“Too much information,” I reply. “I do not need to know this, it’s just creepy as hell.” I shiver at the thought of those torturous devices stuck to her boobs.

“Are you against breastfeeding?” Mom asks me.

“No, not at all. But the thought of having that machine suck my nipples as far as they can extend, and then extract milk, just hurts thinking about.”

“It’s not painful, I swear it isn’t. Maybe a little uncomfortable at times, especially when they’re full. Otherwise, you barely realize it’s happening.”

“I call bullshit,” I tell her. She smiles at me and walks off towards the bathroom with a bag in tow.

“Well, I guess we’ve gotta wait around for her to empty out,” Rainey says, causing me to snicker. Mom gives us her motherly glare and we both stop dead in our tracks. That look came with many groundings and spankings while we were growing up. I’m pretty sure she thinks she still has the authority to bend us over objects and whip our heineys good and raw. Makes me want to rub my backside at some of those memories.

“Don’t forget we’ve got an appointment with Stacey in the morning to get your hair done, Emory.” I nearly whine out loud at her statement, I am not like the typical every day woman, I don’t like people messing with my hair. It’s long, shiny and black, all one color. My natural color and I don’t want anyone changing a thing about it. I cry when I have to go get a trim, and my mom wants me to get some kind of up do or design. I’d prefer to just brush it out and let it hang, Marcus likes my hair just as it is, and why mess with perfection anyways?

“Can’t I just wear it down like always?”

“This is your wedding day, Emory dear. Let your mother have her day,” she says, Rainey and I look at each other and I can tell she’s thinking the same thing as I am. Her day? I thought it was mine!

“Now, message me on where you’re having dinner and I’ll meet you there. I need to go pick your dress up and grab your bouquet.”

“Wait a minute, Mom? What dress? I have my outfit hanging in the closet ready, so please explain to me what dress it is that you’re talking about?”

“You are not wearing jeans to your wedding!” she says, gripping her chest as if her heart is breaking or attacking her from the inside out.

“Why not? They’re white and new! Marcus is wearing jeans. I even went out and purchased a nice top to wear.”

“A white top with a pink skull is not something I want to share with my grandchildren one day when we’re looking over your wedding album. Trust me dear, you’ll thank me one day,” she says, gathering her purse and walking out the door. I guess this discussion is over with.

“The fuck?” I ask Rainey.

“You’re asking me? This is the first I’ve heard of it or I would’ve told you.”

“Which is exactly why she didn’t say anything to anyone,” I huff out. I guess I’m wearing a dress, I hate dresses!

Ariel comes out of the bathroom and stops and looks at us. “What? What happened?” she asks, worriedly.

“Mom!” I shout out.

“Enough said, let’s go get a margarita. Where is your mother anyways?” she asks me.

“Mine? Why only mine?”

“Because when she does something stupid or interfering, I don’t claim her,” Ariel says, on a chuckle.

“Rainey’s the youngest, she can claim her. And to answer your question she went to pick up my dress.”

“What dress? You hate wearing dresses.”

“Exactly!” I call out. See my sisters know and would never try to change me, even for a day.

“My mother?” Rainey is just now catching on, “I don’t freaking think so, y’all aren’t strapping me with her crazy ass while y’all go about living your lives. Oh hell to the no!” We all head out of the banquet hall, arm in arm and laughing hysterically. I love my sisters!