Chapter 3
The truth was, I had stopped going to Melissa and Scott’s gatherings whenever possible.
There was always some comment waiting for me.
My clothes.
My job.
My cooking.
Our house.
Even the fact that Daniel and I had chosen not to have children yet.
Once, Melissa joked that I had “married above my pay grade.”
Daniel heard it.
He said nothing until we got home.
Then he apologized for her.
Again.
Melissa looked at Sophie.
“Aunt Emily comes over.”
“Not much,” Sophie replied.
Scott rubbed his forehead.
“Mel, maybe you should just listen.”
Melissa stared at him.
“You too?”
“I’m not taking sides.”
“You literally are.”
“No. I’m saying everybody at this table seems to remember the same thing.”
That landed harder than anything I could have said.
Melissa looked around the table.
Her mother.
Her brother.
Her husband.
Her children.
Then me.
For once, she couldn’t hide behind the idea that I was simply too sensitive.
She stood.
“I’m not sitting here while everyone gangs up on me.”
Diane stopped her.
“Sit down.”
Melissa turned.
Diane pointed toward the chair.
“You’ve spent years making comments and calling them jokes. The second anyone responds, you become the victim. Sit down.”
For several seconds, Melissa didn’t move.
Then she sat.
Diane looked at me.
“Emily, I owe you an apology.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I saw more than I admitted.”
Daniel lowered his eyes.
“I kept thinking keeping the peace meant preventing arguments,” Diane continued. “But sometimes keeping the peace just means asking the quietest person to tolerate the loudest one.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Daniel exhaled.
“She’s right.”
I looked at him.
He met my eyes.
“I’ve done that too.”
Melissa muttered, “Wonderful. Group therapy over chicken.”
This time, Daniel didn’t laugh.
“That,” he said, “is exactly what we’re talking about.”
Melissa stared at him.
Something in her expression shifted.
Not guilt.
Not yet.
May you like
But uncertainty.
For once, sarcasm wasn’t saving her.
