He Threw Me Into a Fountain at My Sister’s Wedding Minutes Later, the Doors Opened and Everything Changed

My Aunt Vivian commented on my practical haircut. My Uncle Harold asked loudly if I was still pushing papers for the government. My cousin Tiffany, Allison’s maid of honor, asked whether my dress was from a discount retailer, and didn’t wait for an answer before floating away.

I was seated at Table 19. Far enough from the family table that I’d need binoculars. My neighbors were distant cousins twice removed and a hard-of-hearing great-aunt who squinted at me and asked if I was one of the Wellington girls.

“No, I’m Robert and Patricia’s daughter,” I explained. “Allison’s sister.”

“Oh,” she said, registering genuine surprise. “I didn’t know there was another daughter.”

I kept my face still and took a sip of water.

During the maid of honor speech, Tiffany spoke movingly about Allison being like the sister she never had. During the best man’s remarks, someone joked about Bradford joining the Campbell family dynasty and marrying the golden child. The evening proceeded in its elaborate, choreographed way, and I sat at the edge of it like a person watching a movie through glass.