His mom thought I wasn’t good enough for her son, and he actually listened to her and called off our wedding. So, for our last dinner together, I decided to give them both a goodbye present they’d never forget. Tyler had just proposed.
It wasn’t anything grand. Just him and me, sitting on my balcony with greasy takeout and too much wine, and then suddenly there he was, holding out a ring with shaking hands and a smile so wide I didn’t even think twice. I said yes before he could finish his sentence.
We’d started planning the wedding right away. Something small, low-key, with a ramen bar and a cosplay-themed photo booth. It was perfect for us.
He was a freelance web developer. I was a graphic designer who made comics for indie publishers and spent too much time drawing anime scenes. We didn’t need a fancy venue or a dozen matching groomsmen.
We just needed each other. Or so I thought. A couple of weeks into our engagement, Tyler said it was time for me to meet his mom.
Patricia. He’d been putting it off, and honestly, I hadn’t pushed to meet her either. I’d heard bits and pieces about her.
Apparently, she was opinionated. She meant well most of the time, but could be intense sometimes. His sister once told me she drove away his last girlfriend by asking her, point-blank, what her savings account looked like.
Still, I believed in first impressions, and I believed in myself. So I picked out nice clothes, fixed my hair, grabbed a bottle of Pinot noir, and drove to her place with the most positive attitude I could summon. She lived in a big colonial-style house in one of those neighborhoods where all the lawns looked like they’d been cut with scissors.
I parked behind Tyler’s car (we’d driven separately because we were planning on moving in together after the wedding), smoothed out my clothes, and walked up to the door, repeating, It’s just dinner. You got this. Patricia greeted me like she’d been waiting to prove the rumors wrong.
She had a big smile and showered me with compliments right off the bat. “Oh, Charlotte! You’re even more lovely than the photos.” She touched my hair—actually touched it—and said, “So shiny!
What do you use?”
“I… uh, dandruff shampoo?” I answered. She laughed like I’d said something clever. But as she ushered me inside her home, I started thinking maybe everyone had just misjudged her.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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