My sister Marie had been dating Rim for two years when they got married. She our two younger sisters and a couple close friends, to be her bridesmaids. I was her matron of honor. Matron because I was married, not maid, which… let's be honest, is such a weird label. Like "congrats on having a husband, here's a title that sounds like it belongs to a medieval governess."
Anyway, in case I haven't made it crystal clear by now, John hated Marie. Hated her. Hated that I wanted to spend time with her. Hated that I wanted to see her. Hated that she saw through him. Her existence was a threat to his control, and it showed every time her name came up.
Much to his absolute disdain, Rim was going to school in the same city where we lived, which meant Marie moved closer to me. And that? That was a gift. Having her nearby was everything. She helped with Ashton, brought sanity into my life, and honestly, it made our relationship stronger than it had been in years.
So when she said she was getting married in May, I was thrilled.
I was also about to walk straight into the next disaster.
Marie was getting married on a Saturday, but all the festivities kicked off that Friday. We were going to get our nails done, then head to the rehearsal dinner. That awkward little ritual where everyone shows up in regular clothes and pretends they're getting married. Don't get me wrong, it is a big deal. But rehearsal dinners crack me up. Like a wedding cosplay with mashed potatoes. "Congrats on almost doing it, now line up like it's your middle school play."
It was also meant to be a time for everyone to laugh, hang out, and soak up the excitement together. And in our case, that meant a lot of people.
You already know I'm the oldest of five, but my mom? She came from a giant family. My dad's side was more modest, size-wise, but still full of strong personalities. Marie invited most of our relatives, so this "little" rehearsal dinner turned into a full-on pre-wedding family reunion. We're talking nearly 100 people. That's not a rehearsal dinner, that's a catered block party.
John? Was not thrilled. This whole weekend was about someone he loathed— Marie —and the narcissist handbook does not have a chapter on "how to gracefully share the spotlight."
So naturally, the moment we rolled into my parents' town, he ditched me and Ashton and went off to do something important, hang out with the guys. They were going shooting, and of course that was more appealing than wrangling our son or being part of a celebration that wasn't about him.
Because heaven forbid he be expected to support me on a weekend that didn't revolve around him.
Everything was fine, until we had to go get our nails done.
My mom asked, "Where's the car seat?"
And I froze. I didn't have it. He had it. In the car. The car he had taken to go play cowboy with the guys instead of, you know, being an actual father and supporting his wife the night before her sister's wedding.
So my mom calls him, calm at first, just asking if he can bring it back. And he gets mouthy. Says she can come pick it up herself. Like she's the problem. Like we're the inconvenience.
She reminds him, again, calmly at first, that he was supposed to be supporting me. That he was supposed to have the baby and the car seat ready because I had wedding duties to help with.
And that's when he lost it. Started yelling at my mom over the phone.
So she flipped the switch.
"You better get your ass back to the house with that car seat in the next ten minutes," she snapped, "or I will come get it myself and you won't like how I do it."
Now, here's the wild part: I think the only reason he didn't go full tantrum mode was because he was with my dad. And while my dad might not look like the scary one in our family. He's quiet, unassuming, doesn't need to posture. I've watched grown men take one look at him and decide not to test their luck.
Even my uncle, the one who shaves his head, covered in tattoos, Navy vet, big and bad in every visible way. Once told me, "Your dad could take me and your other uncles at the same time. And has. Twice."
So John shows up at the house. We're already running late. My mom walks up to the car, not even trying to argue, just trying to grab the damn car seat so we can go.
And this man, this man, jumps in front of the car like he's blocking a prison break. Stands there, puffing his chest out, planting his feet like he's ready to throw down. Getting into full-on fight stance over a baby carrier.
I wanted to disappear. Or scream. Or both. All I could do was stand there, frozen, holding Ashton, wondering how the hell this was my life.
My mom? Done. Absolutely done.
She snaps.
Starts yelling at him, screaming, right there in the driveway. Getting in his face. Full mama bear rage mode, because her daughter is being disrespected, the baby is being used as a pawn, and now she's being physically blocked by a grown-ass man who thinks he's intimidating.
She wasn't afraid. She didn't back down. She tore into him with a fury that had probably been simmering for months. And in that moment? I think she was ready to throw hands.
Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, my dad pulled into the driveway.
And just like that, John backed down.
Instead of standing there puffed up like a rooster, he did what cowards do when they're about to get called out by someone they can't intimidate, he left. Sped off like a bat out of hell, tires squealing, gravel flying.
With the car seat.
With. My. Car. Seat.
Cue full-blown panic mode.
We're late. I'm sobbing. There's no car seat for my baby, no way to get to the nail appointment, no way to go anywhere. I'm humiliated. Furious. Just trying to keep it together.
That's when my dad's brother, my Uncle, quietly disappears. Twenty minutes later, he comes back from Walmart with a brand-new car seat. Not just any car seat, either. One of those nice convertible ones that can grow with your baby into toddlerhood.
I burst into tears. Ugly tears.
"I don't have the money to pay you back," I choked out, embarrassed and heartbroken.
He just waved me off with a smile. "Call it a late baby shower gift."
I still cry thinking about that moment. Not because of the car seat, but because of the way he showed up when everything was falling apart. Quiet, steady, no drama, just love.
My dad ended up watching Ashton while the rest of us got our nails done. We managed to salvage the evening, heading to the wedding venue for the rehearsal dinner. It was about a twenty-minute drive from my parents' place, and I tried to pretend the day hadn't gone to hell.