“I am fine.”
She set her coffee cup on the counter with a sharp thud. “Look, mother-in-law, if you are still upset about the room thing, I think you are being very immature. It is time for you to get over it. Things change. You are already old. You need to adapt.”
I turned to look at her. She was wearing brand-name sweatpants that cost what I earned in a week selling pies twenty years ago, her hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail, her nails freshly done, all paid for with money that my son went into debt to give her.
“You are right,” I said with a calm that surprised me. “Things change.”
She smiled, believing she had won again. She had no idea what was coming.
On Friday night, Valerie gave me the news. “Mother-in-law, tomorrow some friends are coming over for brunch. We are going to be in the living room, and we need privacy. Can you stay in your room? Oh, and if you could prepare something delicious, we would appreciate it. You know, your homemade crepes are good. Make those.”
It was not a question. It was an order.
Robert was sitting in the armchair watching football on TV. He said nothing. He did not even turn to look at me.
“At what time?” I asked.
“Around one in the afternoon. And, mother-in-law, please wear something presentable. Not that old robe you always wear.”
That night I almost did not sleep. I knew Lucy would arrive in the morning. I knew I needed to hold on just a little longer, but I did not imagine that before my daughter arrived, I was going to live the biggest humiliation of my life.
Saturday, eleven in the morning. I started preparing the food. I made the batter from scratch the way my mother taught me, rolling the thin crepes, preparing the savory filling, the cream sauce, the fresh cheese. The smell filled the house.
At twelve-thirty, the doorbell rang. Valerie ran to open it. Four women her age entered, all dressed up, wearing perfume, laughing loudly. They brought bottles of wine and bags from expensive boutiques.
“Welcome to my house,” Valerie said, emphasizing the my while looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
They settled in the living room. I served the food on the breakfast bar, thinking they would come for it. But Valerie came into the kitchen and made a gesture with her hand.
“Mother-in-law, bring them to the living room. And bring us the wine too.”
I froze. “What?”
“Serve us in the living room. We do not want to get up.”
I took a deep breath. I took the tray with the plates and walked out. Valerie’s friends looked at me with curiosity.
“Oh, that looks delicious,” said one of them, a blonde wearing sunglasses inside the house.
I served the plates. I went to get the wine. When I returned with the bottle and the glasses, Valerie was showing her friends her new room.
“Come, I am going to show you how it turned out. It is a beauty.”
The five of them went up the stairs. I stayed downstairs, feeling my stomach turn. I could hear their voices and laughter from the second floor.
“It is beautiful, Val.”
“And this was your mother-in-law’s room?”
“Yes, but you know how older ladies are. Everything antique and depressing. We did her a favor, moving her to a smaller room.”
Laughter.
They came down after ten minutes. They sat down to eat. I was in the kitchen cleaning, trying to disappear. But then I heard Valerie’s voice.
“Mother-in-law, can you bring us more napkins?”
I went out with the napkins. When I placed them on the table, one of the friends, a brunette with huge earrings, looked at me with a condescending smile.
“And you are Robert’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, how convenient to have help living in the house, right, Val?” she said to Valerie with a knowing nudge.
My blood froze.
“Very convenient,” Valerie replied between laughs. “Although sometimes you have to tell her how things are done. You know, the older generation had other standards.”
The laughter got louder.
Another friend, a redhead with long decorated nails, looked directly at me. “And do you pay her anything? I mean, for cooking and cleaning.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Valerie took a sip of wine, enjoying every second.
“No, but we give her a roof and food. It is enough, right? Besides, she is family. Family helps each other.”
The laughter exploded. I stood there, my cheeks burning, feeling like every laugh was a slap. They saw me as the maid, as a free employee in my own house.
“Mother-in-law, can you clear these plates? We are done.”
My hands were shaking when I took the plates. One slipped, but I caught it before it fell.
More laughter.
“Careful, mother-in-law.”
