Your weddings happening, but Im not needed there, the daughter snapped, eyes glued to her phone.
What? Again youve forgotten the council tax? she hissed. Grace Parker hurled a stack of bills onto the kitchen table; they fluttered like startled birds across the tiles.
Dave, I told you the payroll slipped, the husband muttered, shoulders slumped. Ill sort it tomorrow, I promise.
Tomorrow! Always tomorrow! Pay today! Grace snapped.
Dont raise your voice, Emma is asleep!
Emma isnt asleep, shes glued to that phone, as usual!
Grace drifted to her daughters room. Twentyfouryearold Emily lay on the bed, face lit by the phones glow, a halfsmile frozen on her lips.
Emily, are you coming for dinner?
Silence.
Emily!
Aye, the girl didnt lift her head.
Did you say aye or yeah? Are you eating or not?
I dont know.
Grace sighed and returned to the kitchen. When Emily was small they were inseparableEmily would sprint from school, wrap herself around Grace, spill the days secrets like marbles. Then school, university, and now a stranger occupied the next room, speaking only in murmurs.
Half an hour later Emily drifted into the kitchen, perched at the table, fingers dancing across the screen.
Emily, could you maybe set the phone aside for a moment and talk? Grace pleaded. Just a normal chat.
Whats there to talk about?
Hows work? Anything new?
Everythings fine.
And that blokewhats his nameMax? Are you still seeing him?
Emilys eyes flickered with something like irritation.
Mum, Im twentyfour. I dont have to report my love life to you.
Im not demanding a report, just curious.
Yes, were still together. Thats all.
Grace poured herself a mug of tea, intending to ask more, but hesitated, fearing another sharp retort.
By the way, Emily suddenly set the phone down, the weddings happening. In May.
Grace froze, tea midway to her lips.
A wedding? Youre getting married?
Yes. Max proposed, I said yes.
Emily! Grace sprang up, reaching to hug her. Sweetheart, thats huge! Why didnt you tell me earlier?
When? He asked me just yesterday.
But you could have mentioned it this morning! Or at least dropped a hint!
I forgot.
Grace sank back into her chair, the word echoing like a hollow thud.
Alright, she managed, forcing a smile. The important thing is youre happy. Whens the big day? Where? How can we help?
In May. We havent fixed a date yet. Itll be at a restaurant.
And the dress? We could go pick it together! Remember how you used to stare at my wedding photos and say youd love a dress like that?
Mum, Ive already chosen one. I went with Maxs mother.
His mother?
Yes. She paid for it, so we went together.
Grace felt a sting in her chest. The wedding dressa tradition every girl dreams of choosing with her motherwas now being selected with a future motherinlaw.
I could have gone too, she whispered. We could have all gone together
Why? Youd still clash on the style. Youd want something simple, and Helen would insist on something extravagant.
I dont want simple! I want it to be perfect for you!
Emily rolled her eyes.
Mum, thats enough. The dress is bought, the matters closed.
What about the guests? How many are we inviting? I need to draw up our side of the list
Theres already a list. Helen handled everything.
But Im your mother! I should be involved in the preparations!
What for? Helen has the best venue, the best DJ, the best photographer. Shes got the contacts, the money, the experience. What can you do? Call the village hall and ask for a cheap accordion band?
Graces face drained to ash.
How can you say that?
Its the truth, Mum. Youve got no money, no connections, no taste. Helens got all that. So why should we bother?
Im your mother
So what? Does that give you the right to meddle where youre not wanted?
Grace stood, fled the kitchen, closed the bedroom door behind her, and sank onto the bed, letting tears run unchecked down her cheeks.
A few minutes later Tom, her husband, poked his head in.
Grace, whats wrong?
Emilys getting married.
Really? Well, thats good news! Why are you crying?
Because Im not needed there, Tom. Do you understand? My own daughter thinks I have no place at her wedding.
Youre being dramatic!
Grace recounted the argument. Toms brow furrowed deeper with each detail.
That brat! Ill talk to her right now.
Dont. Itll only make things worse.
You cant just ignore it. Shes your daughter, youve cared for her all her life, and she tells you youre useless!
Please, stop shouting. Im exhausted.
Tom embraced her, and they sat in a heavy silence.
The next morning Grace rose with a weighty head, the night having been sleepless, replaying yesterdays words. Emily had already left for work, leaving a stained mug on the counter.
Grace dialed her friend Tamara.
Tam, can I come over?
Of course! Whats happened?
Ill tell you when I get there.
They met at a café near Tamaras flat. Grace ordered a tea and spilled the whole story.
Tamara shook her head.
Kids today have no respect, no sense of duty!
Maybe Im the one whos out of touch with weddings and restaurants?
Grace, youre a mother! You shouldnt have to understand the details. Just be there, support, be happy! Let Helen handle the money, the venue, everything. Youre still the most important person.
But Emily doesnt think so.
Then tell her straight: either you help with the planning, or you dont turn up at all.
Graces breath caught.
Not attend my own daughters wedding? Tam, are you serious?
Then what else can you do? She doesnt value you! Let her see what life is like without a mother.
No, I cant. This is her day, the most important one.
Tamaras tone hardened. Shes planning it without you. Think about it, Grace. Youre letting her trample over you.
Back home, the words echoed. That evening Emily slipped in late. Grace heard her retreat to her room and knocked.
Yes? a voice called from behind the door.
Grace entered; Emily sat at her laptop.
Emily, I need to talk.
Im busy.
Its important.
Emily turned in her chair.
What?
Grace perched on the edge of the bed.
Listen, about the wedding. I get that Helen has more resources, but I also want to be part of it, even just a little.
Youve already explained
Just let me finish. I can handle the invitations, the décor, maybe compile a guest list for our side. Im not asking to run the whole show, just to be involved.
Emily sighed.
Fine. Make a list, but no more than twenty guests.
Twenty? Why so few?
Maxs side has fifty. The venue holds eighty. Thats the remainder for us.
But I have relatives, friendsyour godmother, your cousins!
Godmother is an outdated term. Cousins dont matter to me. Invite whoever, just keep it to twenty.
This is unfair!
Its fair. Maxs parents are paying half the bill. What are you contributing? Nothing!
Grace felt heat rise in her cheeks.
Well pay our share
With what? Daves salary is thirtythousand pounds a year, your pension is a pittance. Where will the money come from?
Well take a loan!
No. We dont need your loans. Helen has already paid everything!
Grace stood, shaking.
So were poor, and theres no room for us at our own daughters wedding?
Enough drama, Mum! Im not saying youre poor, just that you have fewer means.
So Helen has more, therefore shes now the boss?
Yes! Emily shouted. She can give what you cantmoney, contacts, status! And you? Youd organise a shabby café wedding with cheap fizz?
Ill give love, support, be there!
Thats useless! I need a beautiful wedding, the kind normal people have!
Are we not normal?
No, were poor! Weve been poor all our lives! Im tired of this!
Grace stood, stunned, as Emilys anger surged.
Leave, Emily whispered. I have to work.
Grace left the room, met Tom in the hallway. He had heard everything.
Ill kill that girl, Tom muttered low. How dare she speak to you like that!
Dont touch her. Shes just ashamed of us.
Ashamed? We raised her twentyfour years, gave up everything for her!
Please, lower your voice. My head hurts.
Grace curled up on the sofa, pulling a blanket tight. Tom sat beside her.
Grace, maybe we shouldnt go to the wedding?
Dont be ridiculous.
Why be ridiculous? If were not wanted, why go?
Shes my daughter, Tom. I cant miss her wedding.
Even if she insults you?
Even then.
Tom sighed, rubbing her hair.
A week passed. Grace compiled a guest list, squeezing twenty names, crossing out old friends and distant kin. She handed it to Emily.
Fine, Emily said without looking. Send it to Helen; shell add it to the master list.
Should I call Helen myself? Introduce myself?
Why bother?
Because now were family.
Not yet. And anyway, Helens swamped.
Am I then unemployed?
Emily rolled her eyes and retreated.
Grace sent the list to the number Emily gave her. An hour later a curt reply arrived: List received. Invitations will follow. Helen.
No warmth, just business. Grace tried to add a friendly note but hesitated, fearing Helen would find it intrusive.
Another month slipped by; the invitations never came. Grace asked Emily.
Forgot to send them. Everyone will just be told the time and place.
But isnt an invitation a tradition?
Old-fashioned. Nobody does that now.
Will I ever see the wedding dress?
What for?
You said youd show me.
On the day.
Emily snapped, Mum, leave me alone! I have a mountain of things to do!
Grace stepped back; every conversation felt like a torment.
Finally she dialed Helens number, found it in Emilys messages.
Hello? a pleasant female voice answered.
This is Grace Parker, Emilys mother.
Oh, hello.
Id like to meet, perhaps have coffee together?
There was a pause.
Grace, I truly appreciate the offer, but Im swamped with wedding preparation. No help needed.
I can help!
Thank you, but everything is under control.
Im the mother of the bride! I should be involved!
Grace, Emily asked me to take charge. If you want changes, speak to her, not to me.
What else?
Nothing.
The call ended with a click. Helen clearly considered Grace superfluous.
That evening Grace mustered courage for a serious talk.
Emily, sit down, please.
Im late, Ive got a meeting with Max.
Just five minutes.
Emily grudgingly perched on the edge of a chair.
Listen, I know you want a gorgeous wedding. I know Helen has more resources. But you told me the wedding will happen, but Im not needed therethats what you said. Is that true?
Emily frowned.
I never said that.
You did. Not directly, but the meaning was there.
Enough! Im not kicking you out! Youll be at the wedding like everyone else!
Like a guest?
Yes.
Not as the mother of the bride?
Whats the difference?
Grace felt her throat tighten.
The mother of the bride is the central figure after the coupleshe blesses them, toasts, embraces the bride before the ceremony. A guest just sips champagne in a corner.
Those are oldfashioned ideas! Times have changed!
How?
Now its all about style, Instagram likes, perfect photos. Your sentimental talks about blessings are from another era!
So Im from another era?
Emily stood, her voice shaking.
Im tired of this! Come to the wedding, or dont. I dont care!
Dont care? Grace retorted, rising. Do you really not care if your mother stands at your wedding?
Yes! Because youll just sit there whining, feeling hurt, blaming everyone!
Im not whining!
You always whine! All your life you play the victim, blame everyone else!
Grace took a step back, stunned.
Emily
Enough! Im leaving!
Emily snatched her bag and slammed the door.
Grace collapsed onto a chair, tears streaming. Tom entered, wrapped his arms around her.
I wont go to the wedding, she whispered through sobs.
Good, Tom said. I wont either.
No, you should go. Youre the father. You must be there.
And youre the mother!
But they dont want me there.
Tom held her tighter, both sitting in silent grief.
Weeks ticked by. Ten days remained until the wedding. Grace barely slept, ate little. Tom urged her to phone Emily, to say shed attend.
I cant. Im not needed.
Youre needed! Youre a mother!
The kind of mother they dont want.
Tom sighed, stopped pressing.
One evening the doorbell rang. Grace opened it to find Emily, eyes red, hair dishevelled.
Mum, she whispered.
What happened? Grace asked.
Emily collapsed onto the sofa, sobbing.
Max cheated on mewith my friend. I found out today.
Grace sat, cradling her. Shhh, itll be alright.
The weddings in ten days, everything paid, guests invited!
We can cancel it.
But Helen invested so much money!
Helen will survive. You, Im here.
Emily lifted her tearstreaked face.
Mum, Im sorry. I was terrible, said awful things.
No need to talk about it now.
No, I need to. I was ashamed of you, thought you werent good enough. Helen and Max seemed perfect, successful. I wanted to be like them.
What now?
Now I see I was wrong. Helen knows about the betrayal and says the wedding will still go on, because you cant lose the groom. But you you just held me.
Grace squeezed her tighter.
Because Im your mother. I love you, no matter what.
Even after everything I said?
Especially after.
Emily wept harder. Grace stroked her hair, murmuring soothing words.
Tom entered, saw them, gave a small smile, then retreated to give them space.
They stayed like that through the night, sharing memories of childhood, school, the moment Emily began to feel embarrassed by her parents.
I thought if I were like the rich, people would love me, Emily confessed. If I were important, Id be needed.
Youre already importantto me.
I know now.
The next morning Emily called Max, told him the wedding was off. She then called Helen, thanked her for everything but explained she wouldnt marry. Helen tried to argue about money, reputation, but Emily was firm.
Stop living someone elses life, she said. Its time to live my own.
When the calls ended, Emily looked at her mother.
Mum, can I stay with you for a while, until I find a flat?
Emily, this is your home. Stay as long as you need.
Thank you. And forgive me, for everything.
Grace embraced her.
Ive already forgiven you, long ago.
They sat at the kitchen table, finally drinking tea and really talking for the first time in years. In that moment Grace realised her daughter wasnt lost; she had simply needed the pain to discover what truly mattered. Love, not money, not status, not a perfect wedding, but a mothers unwavering acceptance.
