The wedding will happen, but Im not needed there, she snapped, her daughters voice drifting from a phone that never left her hand.
Are you kidding me? Did you forget to pay the council tax again? Gillian Parker slammed the bills onto the kitchen table, the papers scattering like startled birds across the tiled floor.
Its not my fault, Mum, Tom muttered, his shoulders drooping. The shops been slow. Ill have it sorted tomorrow.
Tomorrow! Always tomorrow! The moneys due today! Gillians voice rose, echoing off the copper pots.
Dont shout, love. Ellies asleep! Tom pleaded.
Ellie isnt asleep, shes glued to that phone, just like always! Gillian huffed and stalked into the upstairs landing.
Ellie, twentyfour, was sprawled on her bed, face lit by the glow of her smartphone, a faint, detached smile frozen on her lips.
Ellie, you coming to supper? Gillian asked.
Silence.
Ellie! she called again.
Aye, Ellie answered without moving her head.
Whats aye? Are you eating or not?
I dont know. The answer floated away like a wisp of smoke.
Gillian sighed and retreated to the kitchen. When Ellie was tiny, they had been inseparableshed race home from nursery, leap into Gillians arms, babble about everything under the sun. School, university, and now a stranger sharing the nextdoor room, speaking in fragments.
Half an hour later Ellie drifted down to the kitchen, perched at the table, fingers dancing over the screen.
Ellie, could you put the phone down for a moment? Lets talk like normal people, Gillian pleaded.
Whats there to talk about?
Just hows work? Anything new?
Same old.
And that chap, Max? You two still seeing each other?
Ellies eyes flickered with something like irritation.
Mum, Im twentyfour. I dont have to report my love life to you.
Im not asking for a report. Just curious.
Yes, were still together. Thats all. She shrugged, then, as if the words had been waiting for a cue, she lowered the phone. The weddings in May.
Gillian froze, tea halfway to her lips.
A wedding? Youre getting married?
Yes. Max proposed, I said yes.
Ellie! Gillian lunged, trying to wrap her arms around her daughter. What a surprise! Why didnt you tell me earlier?
When? He only asked me yesterday.
But you could have mentioned it this morning! Or at least hinted!
I forgot. Forgetting, it seemed, had become a habit.
Gillian sank back into her chair. Alright, she forced a smile. The important thing is youre happy. Whens the ceremony? Where? What can I help with?
In May. No exact date yet. Itll be at a restaurant.
What about the dress? We could go together, remember how you used to stare at my wedding photos as a child, saying you wanted something just like that?
Mum, Ive already chosen one. I went with Maxs mother.
His mother?
Yes. She paid for it, so we both went.
A cold sting pricked Gillians heart. A wedding dressevery girl imagined picking it with her mother. Yet Ellie had gone with the future motherinlaw.
I could have gone too, she whispered. We could have all gone together
Why bother? Youd still clash over the design. Youd want something simple, and Margaret Whitmore would demand something extravagant.
I dont want simple! I want you to have a say!
Ellie rolled her eyes.
Mum, thats enough. The dress is bought. End of story.
What about the guests? How many should we invite? I need to make a list for our side
No need. The list is already set. Margaret has everything under control.
But Im your mother! I should be involved!
Why? Margaret knows the best venue, the perfect MC, the photographer. She has contacts, experience. What can you do? Call the village hall and request a polka band?
The words cut Gillian like a knife. Her face went ashen.
How can you say that?
Just the truth. You have no money, no connections, no taste. Margaret has all that. So why should we need you?
Im your mother
And what does that give you? The right to interfere where you have no clue?
Gillian rose, fled to her bedroom, shut the door, and collapsed onto the bed. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didnt wipe them away.
Tom peeked in a few minutes later.
Gally, whats wrong?
Ellies getting married.
Really? Thats good news! Why are you crying?
Because Im not needed there, Tom. My own daughter thinks Im a burden at her wedding.
You cant be serious!
Gillian recounted the argument. Toms brow furrowed deeper with each detail.
That cheeky girl! Ill have a word with her.
Dont. Itll only make it worse.
But you cant let her talk to you like that! Shes your child, your only one! I cant miss her wedding.
Even if she insults you?
Yes, even then.
Tom wrapped an arm around her, and they sat in heavy silence.
The next morning Gillian rose with a weighty head. She had spent the night replaying the conversation. Ellie had already left for work, leaving a stained mug on the counter.
She called her friend Lucy.
Lucy, can I come over?
Of course, love. Whats happened?
Ill tell you when I get there.
They met at a café near Lucys flat. Gillian ordered tea and poured out the whole story.
Lucy shook her head. The youth todayno respect, no sense of duty!
Lucy, maybe Im wrong. Maybe I really dont understand weddings, restaurants
Youre a mother! You dont need to understand the logistics. You just need to be there, supportive, joyful! Let Margaret handle the money; youre the heart of the day.
But Ellie doesnt think that.
Then tell her straight: either you help with the preparations, or dont show up at all.
Gillians breath caught. Not attend my own daughters wedding? Lucy, what am I saying?
You have to stand up. Shes treating you like a footstool.
Back home, Lucys words reverberated. She felt as if she were being asked to watch her own feet being trampled.
That evening Ellie came home late. Gillian heard her slip into her room and mustered courage.
She knocked.
Yes? came a muffled voice.
Gillian entered. Ellie was perched at her laptop.
Ellie, I need to talk.
Im busy.
This is important.
Ellie turned in her chair.
Go on.
Gillian sat on the edge of the bed.
About the wedding. I get that Margaret has more resources, but I also want to be involved, even a little.
Ellie sighed. Fine. You can make the guest list, but no more than twenty people.
Twenty? Why so few?
Because Maxs side will have fifty, and the venue holds eighty. Thats the remainder for us.
Its unfair!
Its fair. His parents are footing half the bill. What are you contributing? Nothing.
My husband earns thirty thousand pounds a year, my pension is peanuts. Where will the money come from?
Well take a loan.
No, we dont need your loans. Margarets already paid everything.
Gillian felt her cheeks flush. Well pay our share
With what? With a pension that cant even buy a loaf of bread? Were broke, Mum.
Its not about money, Gillian whispered, I just want to be there.
Ellies eyes hardened. I dont need your sob stories. I need a beautiful wedding, the kind people post on Instagram and get likes for. Your oldfashioned ideas belong in a museum.
Are we not normal? Gillian asked, her voice breaking.
Youre poor! Youve been poor all your life! Im tired of that! Ellie shouted, standing up. Leave!
Gillian stood, stunned, as Ellie stormed out, slamming the door. Tom entered the hallway, having heard everything.
Ill kill her, he muttered under his breath. How dare she speak to you like that!
Its not her fault. Shes embarrassed by us, Gillian whispered.
Embarrassed? We raised her for twentyfour years, gave up everything for her, and this is her reaction?
Please, lower your voice. My head hurts. She sank onto the sofa, pulling a blanket over herself. Tom sat beside her.
Gally, maybe we shouldnt go to the wedding at all? he suggested.
Dont be foolish.
Why? If were not wanted, why should we be there?
Shes my daughter, Tom. I cant miss her wedding.
Even if she insults you?
Even then.
Tom stroked her hair, sighing. A week passed. Gillian compiled a guest list, trimming it to twenty names, crossing out distant relatives and old friends. She sent it to Ellie.
Fine, Ellie replied, not even looking up. Forward it to Margaret; shell add it to the master list.
Should I call her myself? Gillian asked.
Why bother? Shes busy.
Because Im not busy.
Ellie rolled her eyes and retreated. An hour later a terse text arrived: List received. Invitations will follow later. Margaret. It was formal, cold, devoid of any warmth.
Months slipped by. No invitations came. When Gillian asked Ellie, she was told there would be no paper invites; everyone would just be told the time and place.
Isnt that a tradition? Gillian asked.
Old-fashioned. Nobody does that now.
Can I at least see a picture of the dress?
Whats the point?
Youll show it at the wedding.
Stop it, Mum. I have a lot to do! Ellie snapped.
Each conversation felt like a blade. Finally, Gillian, desperate, dialed Margarets number, which shed found in Ellies messages.
Hello? a polished female voice answered.
This is Gillian Parker, Ellies mother. Id like to meet, perhaps have a coffee?
There was a pause. Mrs Parker, I appreciate the gesture, but Im swamped with wedding preparations. No help needed.
I can help!
Thank you, but I have everything under control. If you have concerns, speak to Ellie, not me.
Im the mother of the bride!
The tone hardened. Mrs Parker, your daughter asked me to handle this. If you want to change anything, talk to her.
The call ended, leaving Gillian feeling even more excluded.
That night she knocked on Ellies door.
Come in, Ellie called.
Gillian entered, sitting on the edge of the chair.
I understand you want a stunning wedding. I know Margaret has more resources. But you said the wedding will happen, and Im not needed, Gillian said, voice trembling.
Ellies expression hardened. I never said that.
You did, not directly, but the meaning was clear.
Enough! Im not banishing you. Youll be at the wedding, like everyone else!
Like a guest?
Yes, as a guest.
What about being the motherofthebride?
Whats the difference? she asked.
The motherofthebride is the one who blesses, gives a toast, hugs the bride before the ceremony. A guest just sits in a corner and sips champagne.
Its outdated, Ellie replied. Now its all about style, Instagram likes, and a perfect venue. Your oldfashioned sentimental stuff is from another century.
So Im from another century?
Ellie stood, eyes flashing. Im tired of your constant demands. Either you come, or you stay out. I dont care!
Gillian stood too, heat rising. Do you even care if Im there?
Not really. Youll just whine about being hurt, about not being valued. Im done.
Enough! Tom burst into the room, his voice raw. Both of you stop this shouting.
Ellie grabbed her bag and bolted, slamming the door. Gillian collapsed onto a chair, sobbing. Tom wrapped his arms around her.
I wont go to that wedding, Gillian whispered through tears. Its right.
Good, Tom said. I wont either.
He hesitated. But Im the father. I should be there.
Youre the mother! she snapped.
Then Im not needed either.
They sat in mute, the house feeling cavernous and empty.
A week later, ten days before the wedding, Gillian could hardly eat or sleep. Tom kept urging her to at least try to reconcile.
Call her. Say youll come.
I cant. Im not needed there.
Needed! Youre her mother!
Mother who isnt what she wants.
Tom sighed, giving up.
One evening a knock sounded at the door. Gillian opened it to find Ellie, eyes red, hair a tangled mess.
Mum, she whispered.
What happened?
Ellie collapsed onto the sofa, wailing. Max cheated on mewith my best friend. I found out today.
Gillian sat beside her, pulling her into a tight embrace, stroking her hair. Itll be alright, love.
It wont! The weddings in ten days, everythings paid, guests invited!
The wedding can be called off.
But Margaret has poured so much money into it!
Margaret will survive. You, my dear, are what matters.
Ellie lifted her tearstreaked face. Im sorry, Mum. I was awful. I said terrible things.
Its okay. Well get through this together.
Ellie sobbed harder. I thought if I were like those rich people, Id be wanted. I wanted to be like Margaret and Maxsuccessful, admired. I was ashamed of you both.
The love I have for you doesnt depend on money or status, Gillian said.
Even after everything I said?
Especially after that.
Ellies cries softened into quiet breaths. Gillian held her, feeling the weight lift slightly from her heart.
Tom walked in, saw the scene, and gave a small, relieved smile before slipping back out, giving them space.
They talked until dawn, reminiscing about childhood, school, the moment Ellie first felt embarrassed by her parents modest home. Ellie confessed shed chased wealth to feel valued, only to discover shed lost herself.
In the morning she called Max, telling him the wedding was off. She then phoned Margaret, thanking her for the help but saying she would not be marrying.
Margaret tried to persuade her, mentioning money and reputation, but Ellie stood firm.
Stop living someone elses life, she said. Its time to live my own.
She then asked, Mum, can I stay with you until I find a flat?
This is your home, love. Stay as long as you need, Gillian replied.
Thank you, and Im sorry for everything.
Gillian hugged her daughter tightly. I forgave you ages ago.
They sat at the kitchen table, finally having a real conversation over tea, the first in years. In that moment Gillian realized her daughter wasnt lost; she had simply needed to walk through pain to see what truly mattered.
Love, not money, not prestige, not a perfect wedding, was the only thing that mattered a mothers unwavering love that would always welcome her home.
