They frequently made passive-aggressive comments about her simple clothes or her sweet, quiet personality. The pregnancy only intensified their behavior, and Beverly insisted that a good wife should quit her job immediately.
Sydney constantly criticized everything from Macy’s diet to the way she walked or sat. Macy had spent the entire afternoon baking Sydney’s favorite lemon cake and was wearing a new navy dress to look her best at the party.
The evening started well until the drinks arrived and Macy ordered sparkling water with a hint of lemon. “How incredibly boring that you can’t even have a fun drink anymore,” Beverly remarked with a condescending giggle.
Sydney chimed in to claim that fizzy drinks were dangerous for the baby, forcing Macy to switch to still water just to keep the peace. Midway through the meal, Macy turned pale and went to the bathroom to deal with a sudden wave of nausea.
When she returned and quietly mentioned she needed a moment before eating, Beverly uttered the phrase that shattered my patience. “If you’re going to be like this, go eat in the bathroom because tonight isn’t about you,” she said coldly.
The table fell silent as Grant stared at his shoes and his parents sat motionless in their chairs. Sydney nodded in agreement and told Macy she was making everyone uncomfortable with her condition.
Macy began to apologize, her lips trembling, for ruining dinner and for her own physical difficulty. I stood up, took her hand, and grabbed the cake I had baked before turning to the rest of the family.
“I hope everyone has exactly the kind of night they deserve,” I said calmly as we walked out the door. Macy cried all the way home and kept insisting she had ruined my sister’s big anniversary night.
