My boy Grant has forever been the easygoing one. He steers clear of arguments, hardly ever raises his tone, and prefers meeting halfway over turning a disagreement into a battle. Vanessa was far more vocal. I genuinely figured that was why they clicked so well. She coaxed him out of his shell. He seemed to smooth out her rough edges. A week prior to their big day, Vanessa gave me a ring. “Joan, would you mind terribly not wearing blue to the ceremony?” I felt puzzled. I had already purchased a navy dress. “Why? Is something wrong with it?” “No, no. It’s lovely. Blue is simply part of the wedding color scheme, and I’d hate for it to look awkward in the photographs.” I didn’t want to turn a dress into a major issue, so I went out and bought another one. Then I arrived at the venue. And the instant I stepped inside, I froze in my tracks. Vanessa’s mom was wearing blue. For a moment, I honestly thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I had spent money on an entirely new outfit because Vanessa specifically urged me to avoid that exact shade. And now her very own mother stood right there in a stunning floor-length blue gown as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world. What on earth? I was already irritated. Then I scanned the room. Even a couple of her aunts had blue on. They all wore matching little corsages as well. I tracked down Vanessa before the ceremony started. “You told me nobody else was supposed to wear blue.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly.” “Then why did you tell me not to?” Before she could reply, her mother stepped in closer. “Blue is reserved for family.” I stared right at her. “I am the groom’s mother.” She offered me a tight, polite smile. I turned my gaze to my son. “Grant?” He refused to meet my eyes. “Mom. Please. Not right now.” Fine. I wasn’t going to start a scene on my son’s wedding day. Yet I began noticing details I had previously overlooked. When Grant suggested pausing for a single photo with just the two of us, Vanessa instantly shook her head. “We simply don’t have time for that.” Grant looked over at me. “Maybe just one—” “Grant. We have a timeline to keep.” He fell silent. During dinner, Grant started telling his uncle all about their honeymoon plans. Vanessa cut him off. “No, honey. That isn’t what we’re doing anymore. Remember?” A few guests chuckled. Grant managed a laugh too. Yet I watched his face turn crimson. Later on, I pulled him aside. “What is going on here?” “Nothing.” “Never mind the blue dress. I’m talking about you.” “Mom—” “I’ve watched her shut you down the entire day, and you haven’t uttered a word.” “She’s stressed out. It’s our wedding day.” “Grant, look at me.” He finally did. “Are you truly happy?” For a split second, he looked as though he wanted to confide something in me. Then Vanessa appeared out of nowhere. “There you are! Grant, seriously? I’ve been searching everywhere. We have a schedule to follow.” She then glanced at me and giggled. “And Joan, could you please stop trying to steal my groom?” A couple of people nearby laughed along. Grant didn’t join in. Instead, he followed Vanessa back inside without uttering another word. I stood there for a second, boiling with anger. Part of me wanted to grab my son, pull him outside, and demand once more what on earth was happening. However, this was his wedding. So I headed back to my table and kept my mouth shut. For the next twenty minutes, I watched Vanessa laugh along with her relatives as if nothing were amiss. Grant barely spoke a single word. Then suddenly, I heard the sharp ring of a spoon tapping against a champagne flute. I glanced up. Grant was standing. My heart skipped a beat. Vanessa looked up at him, visibly caught off guard. “I’d like to propose a toast,” Grant announced. He then looked straight at me. And that was when I saw it. Grant was furious. His tie hung loose, his face was flushed red, and he gripped that champagne glass with such force I thought it might shatter. I had never witnessed my calm, quiet son look like that before. And instantly, I knew precisely what was about to happen. I bolted to my feet. “No!”
