Chapter 3 - The Invitation I Never Made
I didn't tell Virginia I'd overheard her.
Instead, I told Justin.
His first reaction was exactly what I expected.
"Maybe you're taking it the wrong way."
I stared at him.
"Explain the right way."
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Your mother specifically told Brenda not to bring food because she wanted her to taste what we serve here."
"Okay. That sounds bad."
"Sounds?"
"Chloe."
"No, go ahead. Translate it for me."
He sat down.
I could see embarrassment in his face.
That mattered.
At least he was beginning to recognize the problem.
"Do you want me to tell Brenda not to come?"
"No."
He looked surprised.
"Why?"
"Because I'm done changing my behavior to accommodate your mother's behavior."
"What does that mean?"
"It means Brenda can come. I'll make dinner. We'll eat like adults."
"And Mom?"
"Your mother can decide whether she wants to behave like one."
Saturday afternoon arrived faster than I wanted.
I cooked roasted chicken with herbs, potatoes, green beans, salad and warm bread.
Nothing elaborate.
Nothing designed to impress.
Just good food.
Brenda arrived shortly after five.
I'd met her twice before. She was warmer than Virginia, quicker to laugh, and apparently incapable of entering someone's house empty-handed.
Despite Virginia's instructions, she brought flowers.
"These are for you."
"Thank you."
Virginia looked annoyed.
"I told you not to bring anything."
"They're flowers, Virginia. We aren't eating them."
Walter laughed.
Even I couldn't help smiling.
Two other relatives joined us later, bringing the total around the table to seven.
At first, everything was normal.
Conversation moved from Virginia's hospital appointments to Brenda's grandchildren and Walter's plans to retire from a volunteer board.
Then I served dinner.
Virginia looked at her plate.
I saw the change immediately.
Her shoulders straightened.
She lifted her fork.
And I knew.
The performance was beginning.
She tasted the chicken.
Chewed.
Put down her fork.
"Justin used to eat much better than this."
The table went quiet.
Justin looked at her.
"Mom."
Virginia ignored him.
She turned to Brenda.
"Now you see what I've been talking about."
My pulse hammered.
But strangely, I wasn't angry.
Not anymore.
Something inside me had gone still.
I put down the serving spoon.
"There are no maids in this house, Virginia."
She blinked.
"What?"
"Justin is an adult. I'm his wife, not his maid, cook, laundress or mother."
"Nobody called you a maid."
"You've spent a week explaining how I should cook his food, iron his clothes and arrange our home."
Virginia's cheeks reddened.
"I was trying to help."
"No. You were criticizing."
She laughed sharply.
"Good heavens. People can't say anything anymore."
"You can say whatever you want."
I reached for her plate.
"But you don't have to eat food you find so embarrassing."
Before anyone understood what I was doing, I lifted the plate from the table.
Virginia stared at the empty space.
Her mouth fell open.
"Excuse me?"
"If my cooking is that bad, you don't need to eat it."
"Put my plate down."
"No."
The word was quiet.
That made it louder.
Virginia pushed back her chair.
"You have some nerve."
Walter murmured, "Virginia."
"No, Walter. I'm a guest in this house!"
"Exactly," I said.
She stared at me.
"Guests don't insult the person feeding them."
Justin's face had gone pale.
I waited for him to speak.
For one terrible second, I thought he would retreat again.
Then he looked at his mother.
"Chloe's right."
Virginia turned toward him slowly.
"What?"
"You've been criticizing her all week."
"I'm your mother."
"That doesn't make it okay."
Something flashed across Virginia's face.
Not hurt.
Disbelief.
As though her son had violated a rule he'd been following since childhood.
Then Brenda set down her fork.
"Virginia."
My mother-in-law turned.
Brenda wasn't smiling anymore.
"Should I tell them what you said to me on the phone?"
The room changed.
Virginia's anger vanished.
For the first time all week, she looked afraid.
Justin noticed.
So did I.
"What phone call?" he asked.
Brenda kept her eyes on her sister.
Virginia whispered, "Don't."
May you like
And suddenly I realized whatever Brenda knew was far worse than a complaint about chicken.
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