“Do I look like a joke to you, my daughter? I am now your father’s wife. Wearing my dress is an honor.”
My heart sank. She was four sizes too big for me. And, more importantly, I preferred wearing burlap to her dress.
“I already bought my dress, Sandra.”
His face darkened. “We’ll see.”
***
Two weeks passed in tense silence. Sandra moved through the house like a thundercloud. Dad tried to play peacemaker, but Sandra’s anger filled every room.
That Thursday afternoon, I arrived home with my arms laden with flowers and silverware for the wedding. The front door closed behind me. I immediately knew something was wrong.
