14

AMAYA

Two Days before the Wedding

I was ridiculous for thinking I could get even a second of face time with Kaavi the whole evening. I gave it a few minutes before I made my way to the terrace so that she wouldn’t realize I’d been in the bathroom the same time as her, but while I was away the party had burst into full swing. I had been to weddings in the US that were smaller affairs than this bridal shower.

There was plenty of pink champagne, lobster, caviar bites, and white chocolate–covered strawberries topped with gold foil being passed around, while everyone squabbled over who would get to take photos with the bride-to-be.

There was a manicure station, a hand-rolled chocolate truffles station, a tarot card reading station, and a temporary tattoo station, where a frantic-looking young woman was offering a choice between rose gold Team Bride or Bride Squad tattoos.

Women in various shades of ivory and nude and dull gold milled about, looking like they were having the time of their lives. As always, I felt insignificant. A scrap of used tissue just floating around that no one even noticed.

Mrs. Fonseka was front and center of the action, probably demanding more attention than the bride herself. I stayed out of her line of sight but needn’t have worried. She had plenty more important things that required her consideration.

“What’s this?” She was berating a young waiter who looked like he wanted to shrivel up and die. “Please make sure all the champagne flutes are properly polished. You’d never see this kind of thing at the Hilton, you know.”

“Yes, madam. Right away.” The poor man scampered off while Mrs. Fonseka turned and had a hearty laugh with the aunty standing next to her, her mood switching in the blink of an eye. I had to hand it to her: she really was the original queen of putting on a show for her fans.

“Shall we take the family pictures, madam, before the sun sets and the lighting gets weak?” a man with three cameras slung around his neck and shoulders asked.

“Now? My goodness, I suppose so. You know, I really hate having my picture taken,” she announced to everyone around her before stalking toward the wall of off-white roses that had been set up as a photo backdrop.

“Kaavi, where are you? It’s time for family photos, it seems.”

Kaavi took much longer to make it to her mother, during which time Mrs. Fonseka posed, hand on hip for a few individual shots of her own.

I was too far away now to hear what the two women discussed, but Kaavi’s smile looked strained and Mrs. Fonseka kept a good foot between the two of them, despite the photographer encouraging them to wrap their arms around each other. Two shots in and Mrs. Fonseka beckoned for Tehani to join them. Nadia had been left at home, and was it just me, or could the tension between the three of them be cut by a knife? I supposed they hadn’t really recovered from their “family meeting” yesterday after all.