My wedding day sparkled until the mother-son dance loomed. I kept glancing at my watch, nerves buzzing—not from the vows, those went smoothly—but because Grandma Ruth, who’d raised me since I was a kid, wasn’t in sight. “Seen Grandma?” I asked my new wife, Tara, as she smoothed my collar. She frowned, “She headed to the bathroom ages ago—still gone?” I shook my head, unease creeping in. Grandma’s chair sat empty as the DJ’s voice boomed, calling us to the floor. She’d never miss this.
Ruth had been my everything after Mom passed when I was ten. Dad’s wife, Pam, came along later, sweet at first but pushy about being my “mom” over time. Tara and I planned this dance for Ruth from the start—I’d told Pam straight up, “It’s Grandma’s moment,” thinking she’d get it. Now, with Ruth missing, my gut twisted. “I’ll look—” I started, but my cousin Jen dashed over, breathless, “Jake, Grandma’s stuck in the bathroom!” My heart sank as I bolted through the crowd, dodging tables to reach her.
Banging echoed from the ladies’ room. “Help! Someone open this!” Ruth’s voice trembled. “It’s me, Grandma!” I yelled, yanking the handle—it wouldn’t budge. “I’ve been trapped twenty minutes!” she cried. I scanned the door and spotted a silver stud earring on the floor—Pam’s, the pair she’d flaunted all day. Then cheers rang out from the hall. Peeking back, I saw Pam on the dance floor, arms wide, grinning like she’d claimed her prize. Rage lit me up—she’d done this.
A staff guy approached, “Trouble, sir?” “My grandma’s locked in—fix it!” I snapped. He hustled off as I stormed to the floor. Pam reached for me, cooing loud, “Jake, sharing this with both your moms is so sweet!” I dodged her, grabbed the mic, and faced the guests. “Hold up, folks—the dance is off. My grandma, my real dance partner, is stuck in the bathroom.” Whispers spread, Pam’s smile faded. I held up the earring, “Found this by the door—hers.” Her hand shot to her bare ear, “That’s nonsense—I lost it earlier!”
The bathroom door swung open, Ruth marching in, hair wild, fury blazing. The manager trailed her, flustered. Pam stammered, “I just—” “You locked her in on my wedding day!” I cut in, voice sharp. Dad stood, stunned, “Pam, tell me this isn’t true.” She squirmed, “I only wanted a tiny delay—for my turn.” Ruth stepped up, “You trapped me for twenty minutes—for a turn?” Guests buzzed, Pam flushed. I rallied the crowd, “Let’s clap for the true mom here!” They roared for Ruth.
Tara squeezed my hand as I led Ruth to dance, the music kicking back on. “You okay?” I murmured. She winked, “Tough as nails, you know me.” We swayed, her grip firm. “Your mom’d be proud, Jake,” she said softly. My throat tightened, “Wish she was here.” “She’s in us,” Ruth replied, then chuckled, “Next time, pack a wrench, huh?” I laughed, tension melting. Pam slipped out before dessert; Dad hugged me, torn, and left too. Driving off with Tara, she grinned, “You were epic for Ruth.” I smiled—raised by a champ, I’d learned how to stand tall.
