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Daphne
The rehearsal dinner was held in a lavish ballroom, the walls covered in ornate tapestries and sparkly chandeliers. It was a grand affair, and I felt a bit out of place. Still, I felt a strange sense of comfort in the warmth and buzz of the room, the chatter and laughter of family, friends and strangers alike.
I was determined to give Willow the best possible night. Surveying the room, I noted who was where, who was absent and needed to be checked on. I made sure the bar had everything they needed. But mostly, I just watched my sister smile.
It had only been three weeks since I'd seen her, but I missed her so much. Normally we talked almost every day. I was a bit nervous about my speech, but I wanted to make sure that Willow and Travis were happy and relaxed.
I spotted the two of them in the center of the room, surrounded by their friends. They looked truly happy, like they didn’t have a care in the world. I couldn't help but smile. It was a beautiful sight.
I could feel my mother's presence as soon as I stepped into the room. She had a way of ruining any event with just one glance, and tonight was no exception. I moved across the ballroom toward her table, prepared for whatever might happen next.
When I reached the table, she was already deep into her third glass of Chardonnay. By now, my sister Willow had caught wind of the situation and quickly pulled me away before anything embarrassing could occur. I rolled my eyes and whispered to Willow, "Mum's already working on her audition for Drunk History."
My sister just laughed and nodded her head in agreement. Instantly, I felt better knowing that Willow understood how our mother functioned in such a situation. We wandered around the room together for a bit, saying hello to guests and making sure everything was running smoothly.
Eventually it was time for my speech. I nervously took the microphone and tried my best to focus on making an eloquent yet heartfelt toast to Willow and Travis. As expected, there were some chuckles when I stumbled over a few words here and there, but overall, everyone seemed pleased with my efforts.
As the evening progressed, my mother's inhibitions faded along with her sobriety. It was only a matter of time before the monster emerged.
"Drake," she slurred, "you seem like a nice guy. But I don't know what Daphne's told you about me." She waved her wine glass around, sloshing its contents precariously close to the white tablecloth. "She's got this wild imagination, you know. Always making up stories about me."
Before I could react, Drake stepped forward and calmly said, "Actually, your daughter has never said anything bad about you." He looked into my mother's eyes and gently added, "She’s the kindest, most selfless person I know."
My mother's face fell before she mumbled something incomprehensible and took another sip of her wine. Everyone else in the room seemed to be holding their breath while they waited for her next move.
Finally, after an eternity of silence, Mum looked up at me with tears in her eyes and acknowledged what Drake had said. Then she stood up from the table and pulled me into a tight hug.
I stiffened, but there was no way to extricate myself from her hold. And she knew that. This was a demonstration that she still had power over me and would always have that power.
Drake's grip on my hand tightened, and I could feel my face grow hot with anger. But he leaned in and whispered, "Focus on me. I'll protect you."
Despite my roiling emotions, I tried to keep my composure when she finally loosened her grasp. "Mum, don't do this," I said quietly, trying to keep the venom out of my voice. "I haven't said anything to Drake about you that isn't true."
Willow's eyes darted back and forth between us, clearly puzzled. She'd never heard the stories of how our mother had hurt me when I was younger. Willow had been spared the emotional and physical torment I'd endured.
Mum scoffed and took another gulp of wine. "Oh, please, Daphne. You've always been such a liar. I never hurt you, or poisoned you, or whatever nonsense you've made up in that twisted little mind of yours."
Drake had obviously heard enough. He stood up, towering over my mother with fire in his eyes. He began his dressing down of her, and it was a sight to behold.
"First of all," he said, his voice cold and unyielding, "You should know that I've seen the scars, both physical and emotional, that Daphne carries because of you. She's not a liar, and it's beyond despicable that you'd try to gaslight her like this."
My mother tried to interrupt, but Drake held up a hand to silence her. "No, you're going to listen for once. I've watched Daphne struggle to come to terms with the abuse she suffered at your hands. She's worked tirelessly to overcome the lasting effects of your cruelty, and she's grown into an incredible, resilient woman in spite of you, not because of you."
Willow stared at our mother in disbelief, her mouth agape.
"Third," Drake continued, his voice steely, "You have no right to try to poison the one relationship that has brought Daphne happiness and stability. I am here to support her, and I will not allow you to tear her down any longer."
My mother sat there, her face red and her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. She had no retort, no defense.
"And finally," Drake concluded, his voice now soft but firm, "Daphne is not the one who's crazy here. It's you. You are and always will be unfit to be a mother. You never deserved her love, her loyalty, or her time. From now on, we are her family, the family she deserves."
The room had gone silent, everyone in the ballroom watching the scene unfold with a mix of shock and awe. My mother looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.
Drake turned to me, his eyes full of love and determination. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.
I nodded, tears of gratitude and relief streaming down my face. "Yes, thanks to you."
He pulled me into his arms and held me close, whispering, "I'll always be here for you, Daphne. You’ll never have to face her alone again."
