Chapter 3: Half the Bill
I walked to the stage.
I didn’t run. I’d like to say I felt calm, but mostly I felt very clear, the way you do in the half second after you miss a step on the stairs.
Owen fell into step beside me. He didn’t ask anything. He just walked.
I passed my father on the way. He was still standing by the head table with one hand pressed flat over the pocket where the cards were, like he was keeping them warm. He gave me a small, confused smile. It’s fine, kiddo. That smile was the last push I needed.
Marcus saw me coming and lit up. “There she is! Aunt Jenna!”
The crowd cheered. They thought I was coming to hug them.
I climbed the two steps, held out my hand, and Brittany, smiling for a dozen phones, gave me the microphone.
“Hi, everybody,” I said.
My voice sounded strange coming out of the speakers. Bigger than me.
“First of all, congratulations to my brother and Brittany. Truly. A baby is wonderful news. I’m going to be an aunt.” I turned to them. “I mean that.”
“Aww,” said the room.
Brittany squeezed Marcus’s arm and beamed at the cameras.
“And since you’ve decided to turn our reception into your baby announcement,” I went on, in exactly the same warm voice, “I think it’s only fair you share the cost of the party.”
A little ripple of uncertain laughter.
“This reception cost twenty thousand dollars. Owen and I saved for two years. So, Marcus, Brittany.” I smiled at them. “Since it’s your baby shower now, half the bill’s yours.”
The laughter stopped.
Someone near the bar said, “Oh, no.” Someone else said, “Oh, yes.”
Brittany’s smile froze in place for a second, then cracked. “Jenna, that’s not funny.”
“It isn’t a joke. The venue takes checks.”
“You can’t be serious. We’re family!” She grabbed for the mic. I stepped back. She turned to the crowd instead, her voice going high. “She’s doing this because she’s jealous! She’s been jealous of me since the dress!”
“Brittany,” Marcus said, “babe—”
“And your dad said you two were giving us money for the car! Tell them, Marcus! She promised!”
There it was.
Every family has the thing nobody’s supposed to say in public. Ours was that Marcus and Brittany’s Honda had died in August, and Owen and I, newly flush with wedding gifts, had told my parents we’d quietly give them five thousand dollars toward a new one. A wedding present in reverse. A way to say we’re okay, you and me.
We’d planned to hand it over tonight. After the cake.
I looked at Owen.
He reached into the inside pocket of his charcoal suit and took out a plain white envelope. Thick. Sealed. He held it up so the whole room could see it.
“This one?” he said.
Brittany’s eyes locked onto it.
“That was five thousand dollars for your new car,” I said into the mic. “Consider it your first payment on the bill. We’ll keep it.”
Owen slid it back into his jacket.
Brittany made a sound I’ve only ever heard from a teakettle.
Then I turned toward the DJ table. Tony, our DJ, a sweet older guy in a sequined vest who’d played my cousin’s wedding in 2019, was standing with his hand frozen above his laptop. Beside him, the two tissue-wrapped confetti cannons leaned against the speaker, pink and blue, waiting.
He met my eyes. He raised his eyebrows. A question.
I’d given him a list of songs four months earlier. I’d marked one with a little star: Do not play unless I specifically ask. It had been a joke between us. A song for the end of the night.
“Tony?” I said into the microphone.
His finger hovered over the key.
“Play them out.”
