Dear Diary,
Im sitting at the kitchen table in our modest terraced house on the outskirts of Bristol, feeling the weight of tonights conversation pressing down on me like a rainladen sky. The evening began with a shrill voice from my daughters phone.
Mom, you dont need to be at the wedding, she snapped, not even looking up from her screen.
Are you kidding me? You forgot to pay the council tax again? I snapped back, hurling the unpaid bill across the table. It landed in a flutter of paper that spread across the linoleum.
Ellie, I told you Im stuck at work, Kevin muttered, his shoulders slumped with guilt. Ill sort it tomorrow, I promise.
Tomorrow! Always tomorrow! You still owe me today! I raised my voice, trying not to startle Ellie, who was asleepor so I thoughtin the next room.
Shes not asleep, shes glued to her phone, as usual! I muttered, heading toward her bedroom.
Ellie, twentyfour, was sprawled on her bed, eyes fixed on the glowing rectangle in her hand. A faint, detached smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Ellie, are you coming down for dinner? I asked.
Silence.
Ellie! I called again.
She didnt even glance up. Yeah, she replied, voice flat.
Come for dinner or not? I pressed.
I dont know, she said, and that was that.
I sighed and trudged back to the kitchen. When Ellie was little, she would race in from nursery, hug me tight, and babble about everything under the sun. Then school, university, and now she lives like a stranger in the spare bedroom, speaking to me only when absolutely necessary.
Half an hour later she shuffled into the kitchen, sat down, and kept typing on her phone.
Ellie, could you put the phone down for a moment and talk? I pleaded. Just a proper chat.
What about? she asked, eyes still on the screen.
Hows work? Anything new?
Nothing special, she shrugged.
And Martin? Are you still seeing him?
Ellie finally looked up, a flash of irritation crossing her face.
Mom, Im twentyfour. I dont have to report my love life to you.
Im not asking for a report. Just curious, I said.
Yes, were still together. Thats all.
I poured myself a cup of tea, hoping to ask more without setting off another flareup. Before I could speak, Ellie set her phone aside.
The wedding is happening in May, she announced, almost too casually.
My tea halted midway to my lips.
A wedding? Youre getting married?
Yes. Martin proposed, and I said yes.
Ellie! I sprang up, wanting to embrace her. Sweetheart, why didnt you tell me sooner?
When? He only asked me yesterday.
But you could have mentioned it this morning! Or at least dropped a hint!
I forgot.
I sank back into my chair, stung by the word. I had forgotten, she said. How could I have missed such a moment?
Alright, I forced a smile. The important thing is youre happy. Whens the date? Where? How can I help?
In May. We havent nailed the exact day yet. It will be at a restaurant.
What about the dress? We could go pick one together! Remember how you used to stare at my wedding photos as a child, saying youd want the same dress?
Ive already chosen it. I went with Martins mother, Lydia, to pick it out.
Lydia?
Yes. She paid for it, so we went together.
A sharp ache lodged in my chest. Every girl dreams of choosing her wedding dress with her mum, yet Ellie had gone with her future motherinlaw instead.
I could have gone too, I whispered. We could have gone together
Why would I? Youd still argue. Id want something simple, and Lydia would push for something extravagant.
I dont want something simple! I want you to be part of it!
Ellie rolled her eyes.
Enough, Mom. The dress is bought. That chapters closed.
What about the guests? How many should we invite? I need to draw up a list on our side
Its already done. Lydia has everything organized.
But Im your mother! I should be involved!
Why? Lydia knows the best venue, the best DJ, the best photographer. She has the contacts, the experience. What can you do? Call the village hall and ask for a folk band?
Her words cut like a knife. My face went pale.
How can you say that, Ellie?
Honestly? You have no money, no connections, no taste. Lydia does. So why bother?
Im your mother
So what? That doesnt give you a right to meddle in something you dont understand.
I left the kitchen, retreated to my bedroom, shut the door, and collapsed onto the bed. Tears streamed down my cheeks, untouched.
A few minutes later Kevin peeked in.
Gillian, whats wrong?
Ellies getting married.
Really? Thats wonderful! Why are you crying?
Because I feel useless, Kevin. My own daughter thinks I have no place at her wedding.
You dont say that!
I recounted the whole argument. Kevins brow furrowed deeper.
Shes being cheeky! Ill talk to her right now.
Dont. Itll only make things worse.
But thats not right! Shes my daughter, Ive been there all her life, and she tells me Im not needed!
Please, dont shout. Im exhausted.
Kevin wrapped his arms around me and we sat in silence.
The next morning I woke with a heavy head. I had spent the night turning the conversation over and over. Ellie was already at work, leaving a dirty mug on the kitchen counter.
I called my friend Tara.
Tara, can I stay with you tonight?
Of course! Whats happened?
Ill tell you later.
We met at the little café down the road from Taras flat. I ordered a tea and poured out everything.
Tara shook her head.
Young people these days! No respect, no decency!
Maybe Im wrong, Tara. Maybe I really dont understand weddings, restaurants
Gillian, youre a mother! You dont need to understand the details, you just need to be there, supportive, happy! Let Lydia handle the money if she wants. But youre the main person!
Ellie doesnt think that.
Then tell her straight: either youre involved in the planning or you dont come at all.
My heart raced.
Not come to my own daughters wedding? Tara, are you serious?
What else can I do? She doesnt value me! Let her see what its like without her mother!
No, I cant. This is her day, the most important day of her life.
Tara, shes planning it without you, she said sharply. Youre letting her trample over you.
I returned home, the sting of her words still fresh. The thought that my daughter might be using me as a footstool haunted me.
That evening Ellie came home late. I heard her footsteps retreat to her room and gathered the courage to knock.
Ellie, may I speak with you?
Come in, she called from behind the door.
She was sitting at her desk, laptop open.
Ellie, I need to talk.
Im busy.
This is important.
She turned in her chair, irritation plain on her face.
Fine.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
About the wedding. I understand Lydia has more resources, but I also want to be part of it, even if only a little.
Youve explained
Just listen. I could handle the invitations, help with the décor, maybe compile the guest list for our side. Im not asking to run the show, just to be involved.
Ellie sighed.
Okay. You can make a list, but keep it to twenty people.
Twenty? Why so few?
Martins side will have fifty. The venue holds eighty. Thats the remainder for us.
But I have relatives, friends, my godmother, my cousins!
My godmother is an outdated concept. My cousins arent relevant. Invite whoever you like, but no more than twenty.
Thats unfair!
Its fair. Martins family is paying half the costs. What are we paying? Nothing! Hence the smaller allocation.
My cheeks flushed.
Well pay our share
With what? Dad earns thirty pounds a week, my pension is a pittance! Where will the money come from?
Well take a loan!
No! We dont need your loans! Lydia has already covered everything!
I stood up, voice trembling.
So were poor, with no place at our own daughters wedding?
Stop the drama, Mum! Im not saying youre poor, just that you have fewer options!
So Lydia has more, therefore shes in charge, right?
Yes! Ellie shouted. She can give what you cantmoney, contacts, status! And you? Youre ready to throw a cheap café wedding with bargain champagne?
I can offer love, support, my presence!
Thats not what I need! I want a beautiful wedding, the kind normal people have!
Are we not normal?
No! Youre poor! Youve always been poor! Im tired of it!
I stood rooted, shocked. Ellies eyes were fierce, her breath shallow.
Go, she said softly. I have to work.
I left the room, met Kevin in the hallway. He had heard everything.
Ill kill that girl, he whispered, his voice low. How dare she speak to you like that!
Dont touch her. Shes just embarrassed by us.
Embarrassed? We raised her for twentyfour years, gave up everything for her! And shes embarrassed?
Please, quiet down. My head hurts.
I curled up on the sofa, pulling a blanket around me. Kevin sat beside me.
Gillian, maybe we shouldnt go to the wedding at all?
Dont be foolish.
Why be foolish? If were not needed, why bother going?
Shes my daughter, Kevin. I cant miss her wedding.
Even if she insults you?
Even then.
Kevin sighed, ruffling my hair.
A week passed. I managed to compile a guest list, squeezing twenty names by cutting out distant relatives and old friends. I showed the list to Ellie.
Fine, she said without looking at me. Send it to Lydia; shell add it to the master list.
Should I contact her myself? I asked.
Why bother?
Because were now family, after all.
Its not that simple. Lydia is very busy.
Am I then not busy enough?
Ellie rolled her eyes and retreated to her room.
I sent the list via the phone shed given me. An hour later a terse reply arrived: List received. Invitations will be sent later. Lydia. No warmth, no extra words.
I tried to write something friendly, but hesitated. I didnt want to seem pushy.
Another month slipped by, and no invitations arrived. I asked Ellie.
Apparently there wont be any. Theyll just tell everyone the time and place.
But invitations are a tradition!
Its an old tradition. Nobody does that now.
Will I at least see a picture of the dress?
Why?
I want to see it!
Youll see it at the wedding.
Finally, I could take it no longer and called Lydia.
Hello? a polished female voice answered.
This is Gillian Parker, Eleanors mother.
Ah, Mrs. Parker, good afternoon.
Id like to meet, perhaps have coffee together?
A pause.
Mrs. Parker, Im terribly busy with the wedding preparations. I truly appreciate the offer, but I cant spare the time.
I can help!
Thank you, but I have everything under control.
Im the mother of the bride! I should be involved!
Mrs. Parker, Lydias tone hardened, Eleanor asked me to handle the organisation. If you want changes, speak to her, not to me.
Later that evening I sat down with Eleanor.
Ellie, sit down, please.
Im in a rush, I have a meeting with Martin.
Just five minutes.
She crossed her arms, annoyed.
I understand you want a perfect wedding. I see Lydia has more resources, but you said today that the wedding will happen and Im not needed. Is that true?
Ellies brow knotted.
I never said that.
I heard it. The meaning was clear.
Enough! Im not kicking you out! Youll be at the wedding, like everyone else!
Just as a guest?
Yes, as a guest.
Not as the mother of the bride?
Whats the difference?
I felt my throat tighten.
The mother of the bride is the second most important person after the couple. She gives the blessing, makes the toast, embraces the bride before the ceremony. A guest just sits in the corner and sips champagne.
Thats oldfashioned nonsense! Times have changed.
How?
Now its all about style, Instagram likes, perfect photos. Your sentimental stuff is from another era.
So Im from the past?
Ellie stood up.
Enough. Im done with this conversation. Come to the wedding or dont. I dont care!
Its not that I dont care, I snapped back, standing as well. Do you truly not care whether your mother is there on your wedding day?
Yes! Because youll just sit there whining about how youve been hurt, how youre not appreciated. Im fed up!
Im not whining!
You are! All your life you play the victim! Everyone else is at fault!
I stood, stunned, as she grabbed her bag and stormed out, slamming the door.
Kevin appeared in the hallway, having heard everything.
Ill kill that girl, he whispered again, anger raw.
Dont. Shes just ashamed of us.
Shamed? We raised her, gave up everything for her! And shes ashamed?
Please, quiet, my head hurts.
I lay on the sofa, Kevin beside me.
Gillian, maybe we shouldnt go to the wedding at all?
Dont be ridiculous.
Why? If were not wanted, why attend?
Shes my daughter. I cant miss her day.
Even if she insults you?
Even then.
Kevin sighed, gently rubbing my shoulders.
Another week passed. I sent the trimmed guest list to Lydia, who replied, List accepted. Invitations to follow. Lydia. Nothing more.
I tried again to be warm, but the silence stayed.
A month later, Lydia called, her tone cold.
Mrs. Parker, we need to meet about the wedding.
Its about the wedding, I presume?
Yes. There are some matters to discuss.
We met at a posh café. Lydia was a tall, impeccably dressed woman in her fifties, immaculate makeup, confidence in every step.
Mrs. Parker, I hope you wont take offense at what Im about to say, she began. Eleanor asked me to speak to you.
She cant speak to her own mother?
Shes scared of another scene.
I clenched my fists under the table.
Im listening.
Eleanor wants you to behave calmly at the wedding. No tears, no speeches about how ungrateful you are.
I never called her ungrateful!
You may not have said it, but youve shown it. She feels constant pressure from you.
What pressure?
Mrs. Parker, lets be honest. Youre jealous of me. Youre upset that Im organising the wedding, not you. Youre angry that Eleanor trusts me more.
Of course Im angry! Im her mother!
But that doesnt give you a monopoly over her life.
I rose abruptly.
You know what? Tell Eleanor I wont attend. If Im only a hindrance, Ill stay away.
Mrs. Parker
Its over! Conversation ends here.
I left the café, tears blurring the streetlights. Passersby glanced my way, but I didnt care. I walked until I reached the park, sat on a bench, and dialled a number.
Ellie answered after several rings.
Hello?
Its Mum.
…Lydia called. She said you wont come to the wedding.
Yes. I wont.
Do you know why?
Ellie, tell me honestly: am I such a terrible mother that you hate me?
A pause.
I dont hate you, she said, voice weary. I just feel you want too much from me.
What do you want from me? Love? Respect?
You want me to be you. To live the way you think is right. But Im not you, Mum. Im my own person.
Im not trying to make you me. I just want you happy.
Then let me be happy my way. No lectures, no sad looks.
I always thought I was supporting youIn the quiet of that evening, I finally whispered, I love you, Ellie, and Ill stand beside you whenever you need me, no strings attached.
