Michael said nothing. He just drank his whiskey, avoiding my gaze.
“I understand,” I said simply. I kept my voice calm, neutral. “Anything else I should know?”
Marlene exchanged a look with her parents. There was something else. Of course, there was something else. This dinner wasn’t a reconciliation. It was a planned execution.
“Well,” she began, playing with her wine glass. “We also want to talk about expectations. Michael and I have built a life of a certain standard, a life that requires maintaining certain standards. And frankly, Helen, some of your appearances have been a bit embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” I repeated, feeling the rage begin to simmer under my skin, though my face remained serene.
“Don’t take it the wrong way,” her mother chimed in with that fake sweetness that so resembled her daughter’s. “It’s just that when you came to Khloe’s birthday party last month with that old dress and that grocery store cake… well, it made a certain impression on our guests.”
The old dress. The grocery store cake.
I had worked two extra shifts to be able to buy that cake because I knew Chloe loved strawberries. I had worn my best dress, the same pearl gray one I was wearing now, because it was the only decent thing I owned.
And still, it hadn’t been enough.
“The guests asked who you were,” Marleene continued. “It was awkward having to explain that you were Michael’s mother. Some even thought you were the help.”
Silence. A silence so heavy it seemed to crush the air at the table.
“And what is your point?” I asked, keeping my tone firm.
Marlene leaned forward. “My point, Helen, is that maybe it’s better if you keep your distance, at least at public events. At least when important people are around. We don’t want them to think that Michael comes from… well, you know, from poverty.”
“From a workingclass family,” I completed for her, “from a mother who broke her back to give him everything.”
Michael finally spoke. “Mom, don’t take it like that. They’re just trying to—”
“Trying to what, Michael?” I interrupted, looking directly at him. “Erase me. Make me disappear because I don’t fit into their perfect world.”
He looked down. “It’s not that. It’s just that things are different now. We have to think about our future, about Chloe.”
“We can’t. You can’t have a poor mother ruining your image,” I finished the sentence for him.