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.

“You wrote something too, Mr. James?”

He unfolded it with a smile, read the first line aloud, then stopped.

“Today, I hand my most precious son over to May……”

He looked up at May, his tone half teasing.

“That's so old-fashioned.”

“Who says things like that at weddings anymore?”

A few of the staff around him laughed too.

My father's face went red in an instant.

He reached out to take the paper back.

“My speech isn't very good.”

“And it's not well written.”

“I won't say it, then.”

But Colin acted as if he hadn't noticed how embarrassed my father was, and flipped through it again.

He got to the phonetic notes my father had penciled in and suddenly laughed out loud.

“You were even scared of mispronouncing it, Mr. James?”

“Really, no need to be so nervous. Nobody actually wants to hear this stuff.”

My father's face burned a deeper red.

May finally spoke.

But not to save my father.

Instead she said:

“Colin has a point.”

“This part really doesn't fit the style of today's wedding.”

“Mr. James, let's just cancel the speech.”

My father gripped the paper, his lips moving.

In the end he only said:

“All right. Whatever you two decide.”

I watched him fold the speech back up and tuck it into the already-creased pocket of his suit.

His movements were slow.

Like he was putting away the last bit of his dignity along with it.

That speech, he'd spent a full two weeks on it.

Once, when I came home, I saw him sitting in the living room, recording himself on his phone.

Every time he stumbled over a line, he deleted it and started over.

He said:

“Homer, your dad's not an educated man.”

“But you're getting married. I have to do it right.”

“I can't have people thinking your family has no one standing behind you.”

Then he laughed at himself.

“No, wait, you're the son.”

“Dad has to say it right, so no one thinks your family has no one standing behind you.”

Back then I just laughed at how nervous he was.

I said:

“Dad, just standing up there is enough.”

But today.

He didn't even get the chance to stand up there.

Colin handed the run sheet back to the emcee.

“I'll go up and speak in a bit.”

“I know Ms. Henson well, and I know how the program runs.”

He looked over at my parents with a smile.

“Since it's not convenient for you to speak, me doing it for you is just the same.”

My mother lowered her head.

My father didn't argue either.

They were probably used to it by now.

As long as it was for my sake, they could swallow anything.

Just then the emcee came over with a reminder.

“Mr. Delgado, get ready.”

“Your toast is up next.”

Colin adjusted his tie and passed by me.

He paused, dropping his voice low.

“Homer, don't let your parents feel bad.”

“It's not convenient for them to go up, so I'll say a few words of blessing for them. Consider it me smoothing things over for you.”

As he finished, a flicker of smugness crossed his eyes.

I didn't look at him.

I just glanced down at my phone.

The wedding planner had sent a message:

“Everything's ready.”

“Are you sure you want to play it now?”

I looked up.

At the end of the aisle, Colin had already taken the microphone.

May stood below the stage, watching him with an indulgence in her eyes that stung to see.

And my parents sat in the darkest corner.

One clutching the canceled speech.

One clutching that ill-fitting black skirt suit.

Slowly I typed one word.

“Play it.”

The next second, what appeared on the big screen made every guest below gasp all at once.