I thought my sister humiliating my daughter over a bridal bouquet was as low as the night could go. Then Mia spoke – and I realized she knew something I didn’t.
Two years ago, Mia raced me to the mailbox every afternoon. Then a car skidded across an icy road into ours.
I walked away bruised.
Mia woke up unable to feel her legs.
For months, she refused to look at her wheelchair. She called herself “the broken girl” and hated being seen in public.
Mia woke up unable to feel her legs.
My oldest sister Donna had never been especially patient about Mia’s recovery.
“Mom canceled dinner again?” she asked one evening.
“Mia’s having a bad day.”
Donna sighed. “Everything has been about her since the accident.”
“She’s ten, Donna.”
She called herself “the broken girl.”
“And the rest of us still exist.”
I stared at her. “What exactly do you want Mom to do?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
I did. Back then, I thought Donna was just being Donna.
My middle sister Claire was different.
Everything has been about her.
Claire made sure Mia knew she was wanted at her wedding.
“Mom, I really want to go,” Mia told me.
I hadn’t heard her sound that excited in months.
So, of course, we went.
My middle sister Claire was different.
***
That Saturday was Claire’s wedding.
Before the reception, my middle sister leaned toward me. “I’m making sure Mia catches the bouquet.”
“Seriously?”
Claire smiled. “I want to see her face when she gets it.”
“She’ll love that.”
At seven months pregnant, getting out of a chair had become a three-step process.
I’m making sure Mia catches the bouquet.
Claire smirked. “Need help?”
“I need this baby to stop using my bladder as a trampoline.”
I crossed the room to Mia.
“Having fun?”
She beamed up at me. “Can we stay until the very end?”
I smiled. I hadn’t seen her this happy since before the accident.
She’ll love that.
Then the DJ grabbed the microphone. “All the unmarried ladies, come on up!”
Mia hesitated. “Me too?”
“Especially you.”
