Chapter 2: The Recording She Didn't Want Anyone to See
"Monique, take your hands off me.""
My father's voice was quiet.
That frightened me more than his shouting.
Monique released his arm immediately.
"Baby, you're misunderstanding.""
Darius didn't move.
"Then explain why you don't want me to watch the recording.""
She glanced at the phone.
Then at me.
Then back at him.
"I don't want you watching something that your daughter manipulated.""
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because she had managed to turn herself into the victim again before anyone had even pressed play.
"Manipulated?"" I asked.
"The phone has been sitting there since ten this morning.""
Monique turned sharply.
"Nobody asked you.""
"Nobody asked you to pour wine on yourself either.""
"Jada!"" my father warned.
I closed my mouth.
Not because I was afraid of him.
Because I wanted him to see the recording without another argument giving Monique an excuse to interrupt.
My aunt Rochelle approached from the hallway.
She was my mother's younger sister, a woman who rarely spoke without thinking carefully first.
She looked at my face.
Then at Darius.
"Why is Jada holding her cheek?""
Nobody answered.
Rochelle stepped closer.
"Baby, what happened?""
My eyes filled.
"Uncle—" I stopped myself and corrected it automatically.
"Auntie, Dad hit me.""
Her expression changed.
She looked at Darius.
"You hit your daughter?""
"She attacked Monique," he said.
Rochelle stared at him.
"Did you actually see that?""
"Monique told me what happened.""
"That's not what I asked.""
Monique folded her arms.
"Rochelle, please don't make this worse. I'm already upset.""
Rochelle looked at the wine stain.
"Did you see Jada throw that wine?""
Monique's jaw tightened.
"I don't have to explain myself to you.""
"Interesting," Rochelle replied.
"Because you seem to have no trouble explaining yourself to everyone else.""
My father stepped between them.
"This is a family matter.""
Rochelle shook her head.
"No, Darius. You made it everybody's business when you slapped your daughter in a room full of wedding guests.""
A few people near the doorway looked away.
Others whispered.
I wanted to disappear.
I had imagined hundreds of things happening on my wedding day.
My husband crying when he saw me walk down the aisle.
My little cousins dancing too hard.
My father giving an emotional speech about the little girl he used to carry around the house.
I had never imagined standing in front of my relatives with a handprint burning across my face.
"Can we please watch the video?"" I asked.
Darius turned toward the tripod again.
Monique moved quickly.
"There's no need.""
He frowned.
"Why?""
"Because I know what happened.""
"Then watching it should settle everything.""
She took a breath.
"I just don't want a private family disagreement turned into entertainment.""
I looked at her.
"You're the one who screamed that I attacked you in front of everyone.""
She ignored me.
"Baby, think about what this will do to your relationship with your daughter.""
Darius stared at her.
"You're the one asking me not to watch something that could prove you right.""
Monique's eyes filled again.
"I can't believe you're questioning me.""
It was a familiar performance.
Whenever my father asked her a difficult question, she became fragile.
Whenever he disagreed with her, she reminded him how much she had sacrificed.
Whenever I defended myself, she described me as an ungrateful daughter who couldn't accept his happiness.
She had perfected the routine.
But this time, there was a camera.
My cousin Malik, who had been standing near the doorway, stepped forward.
"Uncle Darius, I can help you get the recording.""
Monique turned toward him.
"Stay out of this, Malik.""
He looked at her calmly.
"It's a wedding video. I'm not breaking into the Pentagon.""
A few people almost smiled.
Darius picked up the phone.
"How do I play it?""
Malik approached.
"Just unlock it. The camera app should still be open.""
My father glanced at the screen.
The recording timer was visible.
He looked at me.
"You recorded the whole thing?""
"I told you. It never stopped.""
"Why didn't you stop it when Monique came over?""
"Because I was arranging the flowers when she walked up.""
Monique shook her head.
"That doesn't prove anything.""
"No," Rochelle said.
"But the video might.""
Darius tapped the screen.
A thumbnail appeared.
He was about to press it when Monique stepped closer.
"Wait.""
He looked at her.
"What now?""
She lowered her voice.
"Can we talk privately first?""
He stared at her for several seconds.
"About what?""
"About us.""
I watched her fingers twist the fabric of her dress.
For the first time, she looked genuinely nervous.
My father glanced at the guests.
"Not now.""
"Darius, please.""
He shook his head.
"You said Jada attacked you. Now we're going to find out whether that's true.""
Monique's face hardened.
"You're choosing her over me?""
The question hung in the air.
My father looked exhausted.
"She's my daughter.""
"And I'm your wife!""
"Both things can be true.""
I looked down.
Those four words were the first decent thing he had said since entering the room.
But they didn't erase the slap.
They didn't erase the way he had believed Monique without asking me a single question.
And they certainly didn't erase the way she had smiled behind his back.
Malik connected the phone to the reception room's television.
The screen lit up.
A few guests gathered around.
I stayed beside my mother's chair.
Rochelle stood next to me and gently touched my shoulder.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?""
I nodded, although I wasn't.
She lowered her voice.
"Your mother would want you to stand up for yourself.""
I looked at the photograph beneath the flowers.
My mother had always told me that being kind didn't mean allowing people to hurt you.
I had forgotten that lesson somewhere between childhood and adulthood.
Across the room, Darius sat down.
Monique stood behind him.
He looked at the screen.
"Start it.""
Malik pressed the playback button.
The video began with a view of the empty reception room.
Then my voice came through the television.
"That seat is reserved for my mother.""
The camera showed Monique standing beside the chair.
She looked at the flowers.
Then she looked at me.
Everyone watched.
Nobody spoke.
The recording continued.
Monique picked up the wine glass.
My father leaned forward.
On the screen, she moved the glass toward her own chest.
And just before the red wine began to spill, the recording caught something none of us had noticed in the room.
Monique looked directly toward the phone.
She smiled.
Then she poured.
My father stopped breathing for a moment.
Malik paused the video.
"Uncle Darius?""
My father didn't answer.
He stared at the frozen image.
Monique looked at the television, then at the people surrounding it.
"That doesn't show the whole story," she whispered.
Rochelle crossed her arms.
"Then let's keep watching.""
But before Malik could press play again, Monique suddenly reached for the television remote.
May you like
And what she said next made my father turn around.
"Don't show them what happened before she came into the room.""
