THE ANNIVERSARY PARTY
I tried to keep my voice pleasant.
“The other dress didn’t fit, so I…”
“It would have if you’d listened,” Clara interrupted.
Dave glanced between us.
“Clara…”
She ignored him.
“What? I’m not going to lie to her.”
Then she pinched the fabric around her own waist.
“This one doesn’t do you any favors either. It looks cheap.”
Simon stepped closer to me.
“Mom, enough.”
The room seemed to shrink around those two words.
Clara blinked.
She looked genuinely surprised.
“I’m helping your wife.”
“No,” Simon said. “You’re insulting my wife.”
Her cheeks turned red.
“I only want what’s best for you, Simmy.”
Then she looked directly at me.
“My son deserves a more attractive woman.”
For a second, I couldn’t move.
There were people nearby.
Relatives.
Friends.
Guests who had heard every word.
I looked at Simon.
Part of me expected him to argue.
Part of me expected Clara to keep going.
But suddenly I didn’t want to hear anyone defend me.
I didn’t want to stand there while people discussed whether my body was acceptable.
“I need the restroom,” I said.
Simon reached for my arm.
“Jen…”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
But I wanted five quiet minutes more than I wanted another conversation.
I walked away.
Inside the restroom, I locked myself in a stall and sat down.
I was angry.
At Clara.
At myself for still being affected by her.
And, if I was being honest, at Simon too.
Not because he had done what Clara had done.
He hadn’t.
But years of “ignore her” had taught Clara something dangerous.
It had taught her that she could say almost anything and still be welcomed at our table.
I sat there for a minute, trying to calm down.
Then I heard the restroom door open.
Two women were talking near the sinks.
I couldn’t see them.
But I could hear them clearly.
“Did yours fit?”
“Eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“Clara told the boutique to alter the sleeves.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
The other woman laughed nervously.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
Their voices faded as they walked out.
I remained completely still.
Clara had chosen dresses for other women too.
And apparently, those dresses had secrets.
My mind immediately went back to the blue satin dress waiting in the box at home.
Maybe mine hadn’t been an isolated insult.
Maybe there was something bigger happening.
I unlocked the stall.
As I stepped toward the sink, I heard a scream from somewhere beyond the restroom.
“Those are mine!”
I rushed into the hallway.
The private dining room had erupted into an argument.
A server hurried past me toward the entrance.
Three garment bags hung from a rolling rack beside a woman I didn’t recognize.
She wore a sleek black suit with a boutique name badge clipped near her shoulder.
Clara had arranged for several women’s dresses to be delivered directly to the restaurant for final fittings before the photographs.
The problem was that something had gone very wrong.
Clara had one hand gripping the handle of a garment bag.
The woman in the black suit stood in front of her.
“Ma’am,” she said calmly, “please let go.”
“I paid for those dresses!”
“You paid reservation deposits.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“Clara,” Dave said, “let the woman do her job.”
Clara spun around.
“This is our property!”
The woman shook her head.
“No. These garments remain boutique property until the women they were ordered for accept them and the remaining balances are paid.”
Clara’s expression changed.
The woman continued.
“You also disputed the remaining charges after insisting we bring the dresses here tonight.”
Dave stared at his wife.
“You did what?”
“There were problems with the orders,” Clara said.
“Problems you requested,” the woman replied.
Then she pulled out a folder.
“We have every alteration and size change under your authorization.”
Clara’s face tightened.
The entire room had gone quiet.
And I suddenly realized that my dress wasn’t the only thing Clara had been trying to control.
