Please don't react.
Please let it go.
Please remember how Vanessa is.
Please don't ruin the evening.
Nobody ever had to ask Vanessa not to ruin anything.
That was the strange part.
The person most capable of creating chaos was always treated as the weather.
Everyone else was asked to carry umbrellas.
By lunchtime, my shoulder hurt.
Not badly.
Enough.
I went upstairs, took ibuprofen, used the cold pack my therapist had insisted I bring, and lay down.
At two, Vanessa called.
“Where are you?”
“My room.”
“We’re doing terrace drinks.”
“I’ll come later.”
There was silence.
“Everybody’s asking for you.”
I almost laughed.
“Who?”
“Mom.”
“Mom knows where I am.”
“Emily.”
“My shoulder hurts.”
Another pause.
Then:
“Okay.”
The word carried enough judgment to require its own luggage.
I closed my eyes.
“Vanessa.”
“What?”
“This weekend is about you.”
“I know.”
“I am not trying to take attention.”
“I didn't say you were.”
“You keep acting like every person asking whether I’m recovering is part of a conspiracy.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Good.”
“Then stop behaving like it.”
Silence.
She hung up.
I stayed in my room another hour.
Maybe that was my mistake.
Not because anything justified what happened later.
But because while I rested, Vanessa apparently spent that hour becoming angrier.
By the time I went downstairs, she was at the pool terrace with thirty or forty guests.
The resort had two pools.
An indoor one.
And an outdoor infinity-style pool overlooking the lake, heated year-round.
It was October.
The air was cold.
Steam rose from the water.
Nobody was swimming.
The terrace had been reserved for welcome cocktails.
String lights.
High tables.
Fire pits.
Waiters carrying champagne.
I wore a pale-blue dress with a fitted bodice and a loose skirt that fell below my knees.
I had chosen it because it was easy to put on without raising my right arm.
Daniel’s mother complimented it.
Then asked about surgery.
I gave the shortest answer possible.
“It’s improving.”
Vanessa heard anyway.
She appeared beside us holding champagne.
“You know what’s funny?”
Daniel’s mother smiled.
“What?”