Dresses
“What?”
She looked at me again.
“I’m not going to lie to her.”
Then she pinched the fabric at her own waist.
“This one doesn’t do you any favors either.”
I felt heat rise into my face.
Clara continued.
“It looks cheap.”
Simon spoke.
“Mom. Enough.”
Two words.
Nothing dramatic.
But Clara blinked like he had slapped the table.
“I’m helping your wife.”
“No.”
His voice stayed calm.
“You’re insulting my wife.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“I only want what’s best for you, Simmy.”
Then she looked directly at me.
“My son deserves a more attractive woman.”
The words landed harder than I wanted them to.
I looked at Simon.
He was already opening his mouth.
But suddenly I didn’t want to stand there while people debated whether I was pretty enough to deserve my own husband.
Marriage
“I need the restroom.”
Simon reached toward me.
“Jen.”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
But five quiet minutes sounded better than one more confrontation.
I locked myself inside a bathroom stall and sat on the closed lid.
I was angry at Clara.
Angry that she could still hurt me.
And if I was being truthful, angry at Simon too.
Because years of private apologies and public silence had taught Clara that she could say almost anything and still be invited back next week.
After a minute, the restroom door opened.
Two women came in talking.
I recognized one voice as Simon’s aunt.
“Did yours fit?”
“Eventually.”
“What does that mean?”
“Clara told the boutique to alter the sleeves.”
A pause.
“Why?”
“She said my upper arms photograph badly.”
The other woman gave an uncomfortable laugh.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish.”
Then:
“Mine too. She changed the neckline. Said it made my neck look shorter.”
I went completely still.
Their voices faded as they left.
I stared at the stall door.
Suddenly, the too-small blue dress felt different.
Dresses
This wasn’t simply Clara being cruel to me.
She had been editing women.
Adjusting them.
Hiding them.
Arranging the entire family like decorations in a room.
Then, somewhere outside the restroom, Clara screamed.
“Those are mine!”
I came out quickly.
The private dining area had turned chaotic.
Guests were staring toward the entrance.
A server hurried past.
Near the wall stood a rolling garment rack with three formal dresses hanging from it.
Beside the rack was a woman in a sleek black suit with the name of the boutique on a badge pinned to her jacket.
Dictionaries & Encyclopedias
Simon stood nearby.
Dave looked deeply uncomfortable.
And Clara had both hands wrapped around one of the garment bags.
“Ma’am,” the boutique woman said calmly, “please release that.”
“I paid for these.”
“You paid deposits.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
Dave looked at his wife.
“Clara, let go.”
She turned on him.
“These are our dresses.”
The boutique coordinator shook her head.
“No. The dresses remain boutique property until the recipients accept them and the balances are paid.”
Clara’s expression hardened.
“I paid.”
“You disputed the remaining charges this afternoon.”
Dave’s head snapped toward her.
“You did what?”
Clara looked away.
“There were problems with the orders.”
The coordinator replied:
“Problems created by the alterations you requested.”
Silence.
Clara looked around as if searching for support.
Then she pointed toward the rack.
“I am not letting someone walk out of my anniversary party with thousands of dollars worth of clothing.”
The restaurant manager stepped closer.
“Mrs. Harrison, if these garments belong to the boutique, you need to return them.”
“I paid for them.”
The coordinator held up a folder.
“I have documentation.”
Clara tightened her grip.
“No.”
The manager’s expression became firmer.
“If you refuse to release property that does not belong to you, I’ll have to contact the police.”
Clara stared at him.
Then said:
“Go ahead.”
He did.
Twenty minutes later, two officers walked into the private dining room.
At that point, nobody was even pretending not to stare.
Clara immediately approached them.
“This woman is trying to remove property I paid for.”
One officer looked at the boutique coordinator.
She handed him the folder.
While he reviewed it, Simon came toward me.
“Jen.”
“What is going on?”
“The restaurant called them.”
“Over dresses?”
“Mom refused to let the boutique take them.”
I looked at him.
“That cannot possibly be the whole story.”
“It isn’t.”
One officer glanced around.
“Is Jennifer here?”
Every head turned.
I stepped forward.
“That’s me.”
He gave me a reassuring look.
“You’re not in any trouble.”
Clara started speaking.
