Five Days to Goodbye

A week before the wedding, I brought my mother to my fiancee's hospital for a sedated endoscopy. My mother woke up early in the morning, combed her hair back until not a strand was out of place, changed into her best but already bleaching shirt, and wore a pair of new shoes. She held her number and said quietly, "If Lorelei's busy, we can just let this go. Don't waste her time." I patted her arm. "It's alright. I made an appointment. It won't waste her time." She woke up at five in the morning and waited until eleven without eating anything. By then, my mother's legs were already trembling. I texted Lorelei, "Mom can't hang on much longer. How many are left until us?" It took her a long time to reply. "Wait in line like everyone else." Another hour went by. It was our turn, but the nurse called the father and son who had been sitting all this while. Through the crack in the door, I heard the boy ask, "Who are those outside, Lorelei? Are you sure you can let me in first?" Lorelei Shaw answered, "Yes. I'm acquainted with those two. I can convince them." I looked down at the slip of paper that was already drenched with my mother's sweat. She was the one who paid for Lorelei's PhD program. We were supposed to get married in five days, but now, we were only acquaintances to her. I rolled up the slip and tucked it in my pocket, then held my mother up and went to the nearest breakfast place. The moment we sat down, I texted all our friends and family. "The marriage is off."