The wedding was flawless until the mother-son dance neared. I checked my watch over and over, jittery—not from nerves about marrying Lily, that part was golden—but because Grandma Helen, my anchor since Mom died when I was twelve, was missing. “Where’s Grandma?” I asked Lily, who was fixing my boutonniere. “She went to freshen up a while back—still out?” Lily wondered. I nodded, worry gnawing me. Her spot was vacant as the DJ summoned us up. Helen wouldn’t ditch this—she’d raised me.
Dad brought in Sharon, his new wife, years ago. She started off warm, but her need to replace Mom grew old fast. Lily and I set the dance for Helen, no debate—I’d told Sharon gently but firm, “It’s Grandma’s.” She seemed to nod along. Now, with Helen gone, the room spun. “I’ll find her—” I began, but my sister Beth rushed up, pale, “Mark, Grandma’s locked in the restroom!” Ice hit my veins as I sprinted past guests, zeroing in on the hall.
I heard thumps inside. “Let me out!” Helen’s voice shook. “Grandma, it’s me!” I called, tugging the stuck door. “Twenty minutes in here!” she gasped. I spotted a pearl earring by the frame—Sharon’s, flaunted earlier. Cheers swelled from the reception. There was Sharon, center stage, smirking, ready for my hands. Anger flared—she’d planned this. A worker neared, “Problem?” “She’s trapped—help her!” I barked. He ran off as I charged the floor. Sharon gushed, “Mark, dancing with both your moms is perfect!”
I swerved, snagged the mic, “Everyone, pause—my grandma, my dance partner, is locked in the bathroom.” Hushes turned to gasps, Sharon blanched. I flashed the earring, “This was by the door—hers.” She touched her lone earring, “That’s absurd—I dropped it!” Helen burst in, fuming, hair askew, manager behind her. “You did this!” I snapped at Sharon. Dad rose, “Tell me you didn’t.” She mumbled, “Just a short wait—for my chance.” Helen glared, “Twenty minutes, for a chance?” Murmurs flew, Sharon reddened. “Applause for my real mom!” I called—cheers erupted for Helen.
Lily joined me as I guided Helen to dance, music flowing anew. “You good?” I whispered. “Unbreakable, kid,” she smiled. We moved, her hand tight. “Your mom’s proud of you,” she said. I choked up, “Miss her.” “She’s here in spirit,” Helen murmured, then grinned, “Bring bolt cutters next time, eh?” I laughed, stress fading. Sharon bailed before cake; Dad apologized and followed. Lily beamed later, “You stood up big.” I nodded—Helen taught me strength, and it showed.
