He came in with a set of clothes in his arms, his expression already smoothed back to normal.
"Ma'am, I found you something clean to wear."
"Why don't you change into it first."
He said it so considerately.
But when the clothes unfolded, the color drained from my mother's face.
It was a black uniform skirt-set from the hotel's housekeeping department.
The fabric was stiff, the hem still creased.
Right at the chest, there was even an employee name tag that hadn't been taken off.
Colin acted as if he hadn't noticed any of it, his tone mild.
"It'll do for now, ma'am."
"This one's dark, so any stains won't show."
"Anyway, they'll mostly be filming the couple later. They won't get a clear shot of you."
My mother held the clothes, her fingers slowly tightening around them.
The formal dress she'd worn today, she'd bought two months in advance.
To save money, she'd gone a whole month without buying a single fresh dish for the table.
Every night she tried it on in front of the mirror.
Trying it on, she kept asking me:
"Homer, does your mother look too bright in this?"
"Will I not look as presentable as your city in-laws?"
I'd laughed at her then.
"Mom, you look the best."
She'd been so happy the corners of her eyes crinkled up.
But now, holding an old hotel uniform, she said in a low voice:
"All right."
"As long as I can wear it."
May, though, looked as if she could finally breathe again.
"Colin thinks of everything."
Then she turned to me.
"And stop scowling."
"You snapped at him in front of everyone just now. You embarrassed him."
"When we go out there, give him a way to save face."
Colin dropped his eyes, his voice neither high nor low.
"May, don't push Homer."
"He's always had a problem with me. I know that."
"I only wanted to help you pull off the wedding."
May softened at once.
"I know."
"None of this is your fault."
Standing off to the side, I suddenly felt too tired even to sneer.
My mother lowered her head and said nothing.
But I saw her tears fall onto that black skirt-set.
The stiff fabric drank them up almost at once.
Not even a mark left behind.
A strange calm settled over me.
So from the very start, my parents had never been taken seriously at this wedding.
I took out my phone and sent the wedding planner a message.
"Don't wait on the program."
"When the ceremony starts, put out what I gave you."
The reply came quickly:
"You're sure?"
I looked at May's back as she murmured to Colin.
Then at my parents' eyes, red from holding everything in.
Slowly, I typed two words.
"I'm sure."
When I came back to the hall, Colin was sitting beside the groom's lounge area.
He held a cup of warm water in his hands.
May stood in front of him, straightening the cuff links the crowd had knocked askew.
"Don't take it to heart."
"None of today is your fault."
On the table beside them sat the first-aid kit.
My father still had shards of porcelain lodged in his palm.
The blood on his knee hadn't stopped either.
But that first-aid kit was never once carried over to the storage room for him.
Colin only had to frown.
And May got as anxious as if he'd been done some terrible wrong.
Standing a little way off, I suddenly thought back to many years ago.
The night of the company's annual party, I was running a high fever, waiting outside the hotel for May to come pick me up.
She'd said she'd come as soon as the meeting ended.
But I waited until the early hours, and all I got was one line from her:
"Colin took the drinks for me and his stomach's hurting badly."
"I'm taking him to the hospital first."
Back then the fever had me so weak I could barely stand.
And still I replied:
