On My Wedding Day, My Brother Blocked My Husband Demanding More Money

Caspar Whitney and I dated for ten years before we finally walked toward the altar.

On my wedding day, my brother showed up with a crew and blocked me inside the wedding car.

You're not getting out of this car.

Caspar passed cigarettes around, keeping a smile on his face the whole time.

We'll do everything by the book, I promise. After the wedding I'll make sure your sister has a good life.

My brother let out a cold little laugh.

"Fine, you can marry her. But there's one more condition."

"On top of the eighty-eight hundred you already gave, you add thirty grand."

It wasn't just Caspar who froze. So did I, sitting in the car.

The eighty-eight hundred had already cleaned out Caspar's family. Forget thirty thousandthey couldn't scrape together three.

Someone went and got my parents, hoping they could talk Brendan down.

Brendan pulled out a knife and laid the blade across his own throat.

"I don't care if God himself shows up. That money gets paid!"

"What kind of brother does this? He's just making trouble for his own sister. How's she supposed to hold her head up after the wedding?"

"If you ask me, they're not marrying their daughter off. They're selling her!"

The muttering reached my ears, and the blame was drifting toward my mom and dad.

Still in my white wedding dress, I shoved the door open, got out, and slapped Brendan Floyd across the face.

"This is my wedding day. Can you please stop causing a scene?"

Brendan is four years younger than me.

When he was still learning to talk, I was already pitching in with the housework.

Whenever Mom and Dad were busy, feeding him, cleaning him, all of it fell to me.

In all our years growing up, I had never once hit him.

"Priscilla Floyd, don't be angry. Let me talk to him. There has to be some misunderstanding here."

Caspar quickly stepped between us, soothing everyone, lighting a cigarette for Brendan and for my father.

"Sir, Brendan, our two families know each other inside and out. Priscilla and I grew up together."

"By rights, whatever number you name for the dowry, I should hand it over with both hands. But this eighty-eight hundred is everything I have."

Caspar wasn't exaggerating. Around here, most people pay three or four thousand for a dowry.

When he came to my house to ask for my hand, he knelt right down in front of my parents and pulled out a savings book.

"This is every cent I have, a hundred and ten thousand. Eighty-eight hundred for the dowry, the rest for the wedding banquet."

Back then my parents barely hesitated before saying yes.

I heard Brendan threw a fit when he got home, but I chalked it up to him not wanting to let me go. I didn't think anything more of it.

"This is your sister's wedding. If you don't want to be here, then get the hell home."

I could tell my father was holding himself back hard.

"You say one more thing you've got no business saying, and I'll knock you flat."

My mother jumped in too, frantic, trying to reason with him.

"What's gotten into you? Whatever it is, we'll talk about it at home."

Brendan took a drag, let the smoke out slowly, his whole face full of swagger.

"That's not how it works. What do you mean the eighty-eight hundred is everything he has?"

"Don't you two have two houses? Just sell one, problem solved."

The second that left his mouth, the relatives and friends started laying into him.

"Brendan, how can you be this foolish?"

"He's already giving a dowry that big. Quit making a nuisance of yourself and go find a seat inside."

"That's right, Brendan. You've been such a sensible kid all your life. How can you throw all decency out the window today?"

Caspar forced a smile and threw an arm hard around Brendan's shoulders, steering him off to the side.

"Did you get yourself into some kind of trouble out there? Do you need money? If that's it, once the wedding's over, I'll sell the house if it comes to that."

Brendan pushed his hand off and spelled it out, deliberate, every word serious.

"When I say now, I mean now. Either you bring me the house deed and put me down as a security guard"

"Or you can forget getting married today!"

When I slapped Brendan earlier, part of me had worried my own head wasn't clear.

But looking at him now, that slap was far too light.

"Brendan Floyd, you're really set on ruining this for me today, aren't you?"

Now Caspar's temper flared too.

Ten years ago, his family moved into the house across from ours.

From that day on, I had a second little shadow trailing after me.

Brendan, my younger brother, had been doted on by the two of us the whole timealmost like our own son.

"Even if you won't do it for me, do it for your sister. Whatever this is about, can't it wait until after the wedding?"

Watching Brendan shake his head, firm and unmoved, I walked over to him.

"Thirty thousand. A sum that bigwhat do you even need it for?"

Brendan looked at me, confused, and I slapped him again.

"Two thousand a month in wages. Say thirty thousand a year, if I'm generous. You'd have to work ten years to earn this."

"So you tell mewhat makes you think you can demand thirty thousand from your brother-in-law?"

"If you can't give me a real reason today, then this bond between us as brother and sister is over."

That was what I said, but more than anything, I was frantic.

I'd half raised Brendan myself. How could I not know his nature?

My father came over, his face dark with displeasure.

"Whatever it is, can't you talk it out? Do you have to hit your brother? You and Caspar go inside first"

"No!"

Brendan shouted it, then turned and yelled at the men he'd brought.

"Block them! Don't let them through!"

The men looked uneasy, but they did as he said.

They were the troubled kids Brendan had been helping outmost of them orphans.

Brendan ran an auto repair shop, and with him, they at least had food, drink, and a roof over their heads.

My parents used to bring it up with such pride.

"That boy has a good heart. He'll live a safe, happy life someday."

Same people, different scene. Now my father was heaving with rage.

"He's acting like a fool, and you're all going to act like fools with him? Get out of the way, now."

As he spoke, my father even stepped forward and kicked at themjust to scare them, of course.

But they only stood there with sheepish smiles, ringed around us, not budging an inch.

"Or if you don't want to sell the house, that works too. Sign the taxi over to methe car, the license, the paperwork, all of it."

Brendan wore that reckless, couldn't-care-less look and threw out a new idea.

"Brendan Floyd, I'll ask you one last time. Is there any room to talk about this?"

Caspar asked it, holding down his fury.

I patted Caspar's arm and let the tears fall.

"Do you still see me as your sister?"

Brendan turned his face away, and the words out of his mouth cut just as deep.

"It's because you're my sister that today I have to add another thirty thousand."

"There's no give at all?"

"No give at all."

Hearing that flat, unbending answer, my father charged over, grabbed Brendan by the collar, and slapped him across the face, back and forth.

"How did I ever father a bastard like you? What kind of sin are you committing here?"

My mother's legs gave out; luckily someone caught her.

"Brendan, listen to your mother, just this once. Stop this. Stop it, please, will you?"

Brendan didn't say a word. I murmured a few things into Caspar's ear.

He looked startled at first, then nodded hard, jabbed a finger at Brendan, and raised his voice.

"The taxi license and the paperwork can be signed over to you. But remember one thing."

"From today on, I recognize your father and your motherbut I do not recognize you as my brother!"

I never once imagined that the single most important moment of my life, my wedding, could turn into something this absurd.

My father sighed and sighed. My mother's tears wouldn't stop.

The people around us pointed and murmured. They kept their voices low, but I could still make out enough. None of it was kind.

Right there, Caspar wrote out the transfer authorization and flung it into Brendan's face.

Go handle the paperwork yourself. As for today's wedding, you're not welcome here.

Brendan, you'd better remember what I'm telling you. Never set foot in my home again, or I'll break your legs.

Brendan gave a short laugh, took the authorization, and walked off with his men, cocky as ever.

A week after the wedding.

Caspar, away on business, called me, his voice tight with worry.

Call Brendan, right now.

Call him for what?

Just hearing the name turned my stomach.

He sold off the taxi paperwork. How could he sell it?

Caspar was beside himself, though it was more the frustration of someone who couldn't shake a man into sense.

The license alone runs three, four hundred thousand to get, and with the car it's got to be five hundred thousand at least. He sold it for three hundred fifty.

When I transferred it to him, I did it hoping he'd finally straighten out. And look at the mess he's made of it!

I hung up at once and called Brendan.

Whatever it is, make it quick. I'm busy over here.

The indifference in his voice sent my anger surging.

Why did you sell off the taxi paperwork?

Brendan let out a careless snort.

This is what you're calling about? I thought maybe you were inviting me over for dinner.

All at once the anger drained out of me, but a colder desolation settled in its place.

How could he have turned into this?

It was transferred to me, so it's mine. I sell it if I want to. Do I need your permission for that too?

Nothing else? Then I'm hanging up. I'm in the middle of a mahjong game. That's a win

Right before the line went dead, I heard the cheerful clatter of money being raked in on his end.

I really didn't want to get involved, but after mulling it over for a long while, I called my parents anyway.

The two of them were quiet for a moment after I finished. Then my father spoke.

Prissy, just let him be. We're getting old. We can't control him anymore.

If it had been anyone but my father saying it, I'd have thought I'd misheard.

Dad, did you hear me right? He sold the whole taxi setup, every bit of it.

It's not that I won't let him sell. If he had a real job it'd be fine, but he's out with that crowd of his all day, eating and drinking and running wild. What if

Prissy, that's enough of that.

My mother cut in suddenly, her voice heavy with disappointment.

Everyone else in the world can doubt Brendan, but you can't.

You're brother and sister by blood. You've got a long road ahead of you together

My mother had barely gotten a few words out before my father hung up the phone.

Their attitude left me cold, but more than that, it left me puzzled.

My parents never favored sons over daughters. They'd always treated Brendan and me exactly the same.

Back when I got into a decent state school, my mother worried about what we could afford, but my father settled it on the spot.

The child got in, so she's going, even if we have to sell the pots off the stove.

For a rural family, a child in college was the single best shot at changing your fate.

And yet a few years later, Brendan, the one my parents had pinned all their hopes on, didn't even sit the SATs.

I tried to talk him out of it back then, and the explanation he gave me made a terrible kind of sense.

The way the world is now, a diploma from some third-rate junior college really doesn't count for much.

Mom and Dad have it hard enough. Putting one of us through is plenty. I can stand on my own.

The business with the taxi was quickly forgotten, because I got pregnant.

When Caspar heard the news he was beside himself. He cut a business trip short and drove back from a thousand miles away.

"I'll put in for leave tomorrow. You stay home and don't lift a finger. I've got everything."

"Listen to yourself. I'm only three months along."

I was happy, of course, but I didn't think things needed to go that far.

"My mom was still out in the fields six or seven months into carrying me. And my job isn't half as hard as that."

Even so, Caspar came with me to the office and got all my leave approved.

That night, lying in the bedroom, I could hear him in the living room, calling my parents.

"Mom, Dad, Prissy's expecting."

"No, no, it's our first, and whether it's a boy or a girl, I'm just glad..."

Call after call went out, and as I was drifting off, I heard a name.

"Brendan, your sister's pregnant... All right, I get it. You get back to what you were doing."

The next morning he was up making a full spread of breakfast, and he'd even asked his mother to come over.

"You two are still too young. Three months along before you even noticed."

She was scolding, but her whole face was smiling.

"Prissy, from now on you tell me whatever you feel like eating. Don't you dare go without."

After breakfast, I hurried Caspar off to work.

Once he was gone, his mother drew me down onto the couch beside her and spoke with real weight.

"Take my advice. Stop worrying about your brother."

"I believe there had to be some reason behind that scene he made at the wedding, some hard spot he was in. You should still keep up with him the way family does."

"But some things you just keep straight in your own mind. That's all."

Not two days later my parents showed up, arms full of tonics and supplements.

My mom was like his mother. Once she got going she couldn't stop, all her stories about being pregnant back in the day.

As it started to get dark, the two of them said they had to leave.

I pressed them again and again to stay, but it was no use. As we were saying goodbye, I couldn't help asking about Brendan.

"What's he been up to lately?"

My father sighed, his face a tangle of things.

"What else would he be up to? Sitting around that auto shop, either playing cards or drinking."

"And you're not going to do something about him?"

I'd never counted on my mother when it came to reining in my brother.

But what disappointed me was that my father shook his head too.

"He's grown, there's no controlling him now. Same as you, isn't it?"

Watching the two of them walk away, something sat heavy in me.

I knew what my father meant.

My husband Caspar's family and mine knew each other inside and out.

That was exactly why my father hadn't much wanted us to marry.

"That Caspar boy looks steady, but he's bold, too bold. You won't be able to keep him in hand."

Back then, I'd reacted hard.

"He isn't the kind of person you're making him out to be."

In the end, when nothing else worked, I threw my brother Brendan back at him.

"Maybe get your own son in line first. My marriage is mine to decide."

I remember it clearly. After I said that, my father's eyes went wide, and for the first time in front of me, he cried.

When Caspar came to formally ask for my hand, my father didn't object again.

Three days before my due date, I checked into the hospital to wait it out.

Easing me down onto the bed, Caspar reminded me gently.

"Don't think about anything. I'm right here with you."

I thought about it, then said quietly,

"Call my brother."