His father died when Daniel was eight. One day I was a wife and mother, and the next I was a widow trying to keep the lights on and my boy fed. I took the first steady job I could get. Janitorial work. Schools, office buildings, clinics, anywhere that needed floors scrubbed and trash emptied.
So when he called me six months ago and said, “Mom, I’m going to ask Emily to marry me,” I cried right there over a bucket of floor cleaner.
Emily stood near a balloon arch in a pale pink dress.
Emily had always been polite to me. Never warm, though. She’d always make snide comments at me, questioning when I’d “move up in life.” It was clear she thought she was much better than me. But family is complex, and I thought we could work through things when I got an invitation to her bridal shower.
I should have second guessed that invite the moment I opened it.
Emily stood near a balloon arch in a pale pink dress. She looked at me, smiled for half a second, and said, “Well, you made it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said, holding out the gift bag.