Chapter 3 - The True Price of Aesthetic
I stared at my cousin, looking at the girl whose tears I had wiped away for fifteen years.
She wasn't apologizing for excluding me.
She was explaining that my life wasn't stylish enough for her wedding photographs.
"Cohesive," I repeated, the word tasting like bitter ash in my mouth.
"You think my presence ruins the aesthetic of your wedding album?"
"You're twisting my words!" Madison cried, crossing her arms defensively.
"Tyler’s father is the managing partner of Vance Commercial Holdings. There are going to be governors and federal judges there, Allie! Mom just wanted everything to be perfect."
"I stayed on your couch for a week when Brian cheated on you, Madison," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, each word hitting the room with devastating clarity.
"I washed your sheets, I brought you groceries, and I paid your electric bill when your account was overdrawn."
"And I'm grateful for that!" Madison snapped, her eyes flashing with defensive anger.
"Why do you always bring up things you did years ago? I came here tonight because I need your help!"
A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "You came here to ask for a favor? The night after your mother told me I wasn't good enough to sit at your wedding?"
"Tyler lost the historic property ledger for the Riverland Plantation venue," Madison pleaded, ignoring my anger entirely.
"You worked for the South Carolina Historical Preservation Society for five years. You know the county archivists in Beaufort."
"The venue coordinator won't release the commercial tent permits unless we provide the original 1920 parcel easement records by tomorrow morning."
"If we don't get the permit, the entire reception is canceled."
I looked at her face, seeing the pure, unadulterated selfishness that had been nurtured by my aunt for decades.
To Madison, I wasn't family; I was an unpaid concierge, a utility to be called upon during emergencies and tucked into a closet when high society arrived.
"I won't help you, Madison," I said quietly.
Madison blinked, genuinely stunned, as if I had spoken in a foreign language.
"What do you mean, you won't help? Allie, it's my wedding day!"
"And I am not on the guest list," I replied, walking over to the front door and pulling it wide open into the hallway.
"Take your purse, Madison. Call Aunt Victoria. Let her use her monogrammed family book to find your easement records."
"You are being incredibly petty," Madison hissed, grabbing her designer bag from the chair with aggressive force.
"Mom was right about you. You always have to make yourself the victim."
She stormed toward the doorway, stopping just before the threshold to look back at the silver frame on the coffee table.
"Keep the stupid frame," Madison spat. "Tyler’s family already registered us for sterling silver at Tiffany's anyway."
May you like
She marched down the carpeted hallway, her footsteps echoing sharply until the heavy exterior door slammed shut.
I stood by the open door, breathing in the cool night air, feeling no sadness, only the exhilarating lightness of a woman who had finally dropped an anchor she had dragged for thirty years.
