Going to the Chapel Read Online Free

answer my prayer. Just like that. One day, sitting in church with Aunt Inga, I knew it was pointless to continue. I was about nine years old and I had been praying that same prayer for years. Nothing had ever happened.
    It became clear to me that day that God simply didn’t care enough to answer my prayer, even thoughHe seemed to listen to the prayers of other people and I had no doubt He heard me, too. I mean He wasn’t deaf, so He had to have heard all those prayers I’d said. No, He just wasn’t bothering to answer me. Somehow, I wasn’t important enough to Him. Maybe I was a half and not a whole with him, too.
    These days, I don’t talk about my mother much and no one else in the family, except Aunt Inga, talks about her at all. It’s one of those Delicate Subjects that we don’t discuss. Like the fact that Uncle Howard is becoming bald and that the doctor says he’s under too much stress.
    Cassie says that, with all the silence about my mother, I might as well be adopted as she is. It’s funny. Back in the days when I believed my mother was going to come back for me, both Cassie and I thought I was the lucky one because I had a real mother. These days, I’m not sure who had it easier.
    Those first years, whenever Aunt Inga took me to Las Vegas to see my mother, I would ask my mother when I was going to live with her. At first, my mother would give me a hug and tell me she just needed a little more time to get a place that was big enough for both of us. Eventually, one year when I asked, she couldn’t look me in the eye and didn’t offer me a hug. I didn’t give up hope quite then, but it wasn’t long after that when I sat in church that day and gave up praying. I had finally figured out there was going to be no happy ending to the story of my mother and me.
    But that’s all history. I have enough problems right here and now to keep me busy without worrying aboutthe cosmic problems of relating to a God who is silent and a mother who has no room in her life for a daughter.
    “I don’t suppose Elaine and what’s-his-name will break up again and call everything off,” I say as I take a long look around the party. “That way I wouldn’t need to worry about having a date for the wedding.”
    I am already regretting Doug’s leaving. I don’t know Doug well, but I know him better than any other guy I’ve met in Hollywood. I’d counted on him to be my date for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, too.
    “You don’t need a date for Elaine’s wedding,” Cassie says.
    I blink at Cassie. “Of course, I do. I took a vow. You remember.”
    “I’d be surprised if Elaine even remembers the doctor part of it, though,” Cassie says.
    “Oh, she remembers,” I say.
    Elaine had reminded me of my vow in the invitation she sent to her engagement party. Her exact words were “dated any doctors lately?” She’d scrawled it right over the embossed black lettering saying what a fine hotel the Grand Carlton was and what a lovely party it would be.
    “But that was years ago. What were we—ten at the time?”
    “We were eleven. But it doesn’t matter. A vow never expires.”
    Especially not when it has been vowed in front of my cousin Elaine.
    It had all started with a pair of black high-heel shoes my mother left behind on one of her visits to Blythe. My mother said I could keep the shoes and, when Istrapped them on my feet, I felt grown-up and incredibly tall. Aunt Inga fretted when I wore those shoes, but she didn’t have the heart to take them away from me. She knew how much I missed my mother; I guess she didn’t want me to miss those shoes, too.
    One Saturday, when Aunt Inga was busy doing something else, I decided to walk down to the grocery store with my high heels on and get some eggs. Instead of eggs, I got Elaine.
    When Elaine saw me in those shoes, I could see right away she was jealous. Aunt Ruth had gotten her a pair of short, stubby trainer heels, but Elaine was a long way from getting real