Chapter 2 - The Black Lapel
The sound of leather dress shoes striking marble broke through the stunned silence of the room.
TAP.
TAP.
TAP.
Julian rushed from the altar in three explosive strides, his black tuxedo jacket snapping back in the wind of his movement.
His dark tie hung straight and rigid down his crisp white shirt.
He slid between Valeria and the old woman, his shoulder shoving the bride backward two full paces.
Valeria’s high heels wobbled on the smooth floor, her silk train sweeping across the fallen red petals.
Julian dropped to his knees in front of Elena, completely ignoring the fifty rows of guests sitting frozen in their pews.
His large, warm palm reached up, gently cupping his mother's reddening cheek where Valeria’s palm had struck.
"Mother..." he breathed, his voice deep, tight, and fracturing at the edges.
Elena looked down into her son's eyes, her lower lip trembling so hard she couldn't form a word.
She lifted her small, wrinkled hand and pressed it over his fingers, her fingernails slightly blue against his skin.
"Julian," she rasped, her breath smelling of mint and fear. "The dress... I didn't mean to..."
Julian stood up slowly, his body uncoiling like a steel spring.
He turned to face Valeria, his dark eyes bloodshot, his teeth clenched so tight his jawline bulged against his skin.
He placed his arm firmly around his mother's stooped shoulders, pulling her close to his side.
"Ella es mi madre," Julian said, his voice dropping into an icy register that made the room freeze.
May you like
"She is my mother."
---
