“You’re a pathetic old beggar,” the recording said.

Patricia quit clinking her rings on her glass.

“People like you have no place at a wedding,” the recorded voice went on.

“We don’t want trash spoiling our aesthetic, right?”

Next came the loud gush of the garden hose spraying.

Then my own voice answered from the little speaker.

“I’m only here to talk to my son,” the recorded version of me said.

“Your son wants nothing to do with you,” Vanessa’s voice snapped on the recording.