"I was going to put it on when we went up onstage."

"I was afraid I'd look shabby and embarrass you."

The shawl was soaked at one corner with wine.

Still, she kept dabbing at it, bit by bit, with a tissue.

When it wouldn't come clean, she just folded the dirty part inward.

My father took a cash envelope out of his coat too.

The envelope had been soaked through and gone crumpled, its corners already soft.

He kept his head down, wiping at it for a long time, his voice low.

"This is the gift money your mom and I set aside for our new daughter-in-law."

"We wanted to give it to her properly."

"And now it's turned out like this."

When he finished, he gave an embarrassed little smile.

"Homer, don't hold it against us."

Something jammed in my throat.

They'd spent so long preparing for this wedding.

Afraid they wouldn't be dressed well enough.

Afraid they'd get some courtesy wrong.

Afraid I wouldn't be able to hold my head up in front of the Hensons.

And what May Henson gave them was wine and cream all over their clothes, the guests' laughter, and a corner crammed with junk.

Right then, my phone buzzed.

A message from May.

"Come out once you've cleaned up."

"Colin was just having a little fun with your parents. Don't overreact. It's a small thing."

I looked at that line of text, and I laughed.

A small thing.

So in her eyes, my parents' humiliation, the blood on my father's hand, the dress she ruined on my mother, were all just small things she could wave away.

I helped my parents sit down.

"Dad, Mom."

"Wait here for me a minute."

Then I turned and walked out of the storage room.

At the end of the hallway, the wedding planner was waiting for me, anxious.

"Sir, are we still going ahead with the program?"

I looked at the harsh lights in the hall.

May stood at the end of the aisle, murmuring to Colin, soothing him.

I turned my eyes away and spoke calmly.

"Go ahead."

The planner let out a breath.

But I went on:

"Just change one thing in the program."

"Skip the wedding toast."

"After this, it becomes a broken engagement."

When I got back to the storage room, my father was sitting beside the cardboard boxes, the blood on his knee still not stopped.

Seeing me come in, his first instinct was to stand up.

"Homer, are they rushing us out there?"

"Your mom and I will be ready in a second."

I pressed him back down.

"Don't move."

My mother looked up at me, her eyes red, and still she was smiling.

"Don't you worry."

"A wipe and this dress is still wearable."

She glanced down at the hem, where the wine had bloomed and spread, then hurried to tuck the stained part behind her.

"When we go up, I'll stand off to the side."

"The cameras won't catch it."

Even now, they were still thinking about how not to embarrass me.

Footsteps came from the doorway.

May stood outside, frowning as she took in the mess in the storage room.

"Still not done cleaning up?"

"The ceremony time's almost here."

"If it's really too inconvenient for your parents, maybe they shouldn't go up after all."

She paused, her tone like she was talking it over.

"The way she looks won't come across well on camera anyway."

The smile froze on my mother's face.

In that instant, she looked down at her dress without thinking.

As if she'd only just realized how wretched she looked right now.

My father spoke up quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right."

"We don't have to go up, it's fine."

"As long as your wedding goes off smoothly."

I looked at May, and all at once the person in front of me felt like a total stranger.

She used to say she'd treat my parents as her own and honor them like a daughter.

But now that they were hurt and humiliated, all she disliked was how badly they'd come across on camera.

Colin came in soon after.

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:

"All right. Take care of yourself."

Later I took a cab home alone.

The driver saw how pale I was and asked if I needed to go to a hospital.

I shook my head.

Because back then I still thought Colin had only just joined the company, and she'd stepped in to take a few drinks meant for him.

It was only right she'd look after him a little.

Thinking about it now.

Her thoughtfulness had never been in short supply.

It just never reached me. Or my family.

The moment I walked up, May raised her head to look at me.

"Are your parents ready?"

Then her gaze slid past me, to the two people behind me, and her brow creased.

"Why haven't they changed yet?"

My mother stood there stiffly, that black dress draped over her.

My father supported her, one palm clumsily wrapped in tissue.

The tissue was already soaking through red.

May acted as if she didn't see it, turning instead to instruct a staff member.

"Move Mr. and Mrs. James back a little."

"It doesn't really suit them to sit at the head table now."

My mother's face went white.

But my father nodded first.

"That's fine, fine."

"We can sit anywhere."

The staff member came over with a new seating chart.

My parents had been placed in the farthest corner.

Spare chairs and speaker cables were stacked right beside them.

Guests passing by frowned and steered around them.

As if they weren't the parents here for their son's wedding.

Just clutter shoved into a corner at the last minute.

I looked at that seating chart. My voice came out very soft.

"Why the change?"

May frowned.

"Your parents' clothes are a mess. Sitting at the head table, they'd get photographed too easily."

"The press is here today."

"I'm just thinking of everyone."

Thinking of everyone.

Everyone except my parents.

My father quickly caught my arm.

"Homer, the corner's fine."

"Nice and quiet."

My mother forced a smile too.

"That's right."

"Better than getting photographed and embarrassing you."

She hadn't done a single thing wrong.

Yet she'd already learned to make herself small.

It made me think of last winter.

My mother was in the hospital for a minor procedure, and I called May to ask if she could come to the hospital with me.

She said she had a meeting at the company that day and couldn't get away.

So I ran up and down alone, paying fees, picking up medicine, signing papers.

By the time I got home that night, two blisters had rubbed raw and bled on the soles of my feet.

But the next day, I saw a photo in Colin's social feed.

In a hospital corridor, May sitting beside him.

A cup of hot coffee in her hand.

The caption read:

"Someone cancelled her meetings to sit with me while I got a tooth pulled. Ms. Henson works better than anesthetic."

I went and asked her about it.

She just explained lightly:

"Colin's out here building a life in this city all on his own. It isn't easy."

"Your mother has you to look after her."

I stayed silent for a long time back then.

In the end I talked myself into it.

She was just too soft-hearted.

But only now do I understand.

It wasn't soft-heartedness.

She simply placed Colin's discomfort above me and above my family.

The emcee came over with the program sheet to confirm details with May.

My father saw his own name on it, and as if something had suddenly come back to him, he hurriedly pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his suit.

He'd folded that paper very neatly.

Except one corner had bled into a stain from the red wine earlier.

"I prepared a few words."

He said it a little awkwardly.

"If it's still needed, I could say something brief."

His voice grew lower and lower.

As if he already knew he was no longer fit to stand up front.

Colin suddenly reached out and took the paper from him.