The rehearsal dinner was mediocre at best. The food had been fair to poor. The toasts, with the exception of Chip’s, were predictable. And whatever fun was to be gleaned from so much praise was canceled out by Chip’s little outburst. As Lila poked at her slice of cake, watching the umpteenth relative enumerate her attributes, she couldn’t help but suppress a yawn. There were only so many times a girl could be paid the exact same compliment. Certainly, Chip had not done the evening any favors. After twenty-six years of destructive behavior, he had finally crossed the line from stupid to sociopathic. What aspect of his charmed childhood had caused him to snap? And more importantly, why had years of therapy failed to cure this bug? These and other similar questions consumed Lila for the duration of dessert. By the time coffee was served, she had absentmindedly eviscerated her cake. She did all she could to rise to the occasion and join her guests’ collective effort at denial. Somehow, they had managed to pretend Chip’s speech had never happened.
