My younger sister pushed me into a fountain in front of three hundred wedding guests. Natalie laughed as my grandmother’s blue dress clung to my skin and even our parents treated the humiliation like entertainment. But while the crowd raised its phones to record my embarrassment, I still had one important contact saved on mine.
My shoulder slammed against the fountain’s rounded marble rim, and for one disorienting second, every sound vanished except the churning water around me and distant, muffled music somewhere overhead.
Then my feet touched the bottom.
Slowly, I rose.
Water poured from my hair, slipped underneath the neckline of my worn blue dress, and collected inside the low-heeled shoes I had carefully polished at my kitchen table that morning.
Gradually, the courtyard sharpened around me again.
White roses covered the stone arches bordering the reception. Warm strands of lights hung overhead, reflecting from crystal glasses. Hundreds of elegantly dressed guests surrounded the fountain, many already pointing their phones toward me.
A few appeared shocked.
Far more seemed amused.
And standing at the center of it all was my younger sister, Natalie.
Hand-sewn crystals shimmered across her bridal gown. Her long veil trailed along the ground, and the diamond-covered hand she had used to push me was still stretched forward.
Natalie was laughing.
Near the floral arch, our mother held a hand over her mouth.
Our father raised his champagne.
“Marianne, it was only a joke,” Mother called out.
Father laughed even harder.
“You ought to see yourself.”
By then, the musicians had stopped.
A server rushed toward me carrying several towels, but I raised my hand.
“I’m fine.”
My voice was surprisingly controlled.
My shoulder was aching. One knee had struck the fountain floor hard enough to throb, and the soaked dress was plastered against my legs.
Natalie cocked her head.
“Honestly, you look better now.”
Her bridesmaids started giggling.
“At least she doesn’t smell anymore,” one whispered.
That earned another wave of laughter.
Without accepting anyone’s assistance, I gripped the fountain’s edge with both hands and pulled myself out.
Water gathered in a puddle around my shoes.
The blue dress I wore had originally belonged to our grandmother, Rose Ashford.
