Chapter 3: Living Room Tribunal

Her husband tried to pull her back: “Babe, calm down. We’re here to resolve things, not to fight.” He sounded as if he was reciting a line he’d practiced in the car.

Sister-in-law also piped up, “Natalie is busy in the kitchen, don’t disturb her. Wait until she comes out.” The voice of reason, but ignored as usual.

Little sister-in-law raised her voice, her words echoing through the hallway: “What’s she busy with? My mom does everything for her—cooks, cleans, takes care of the house—what’s Natalie busy with? Natalie, come out and apologize to my mom!”

Big brother shouted, “That’s enough out of you!” He sounded like a referee at a family football game—already exhausted.

Little sister-in-law shot back, “Why can’t I speak? She bullies my mom, am I supposed to treat her like some saint?”

“Even if she’s wrong, she’s still your sister-in-law. If there’s an issue, wait for your brother to come home and deal with it.”

Little sister-in-law sneered, “Big brother, you actually expect Derek to protect Mom? He’s completely whipped. If he really cared about Mom, how could he let Natalie walk all over her?”

“Enough,” big brother said. “Everyone sit down. I’ll go call Natalie out.”

Big brother came into the kitchen, his shadow filling the doorway, and called to me: “Natalie, come out and explain why you threw the pierogi into the trash.”

If it’s gonna go bad, it’s gonna go bad—no way to dodge it now. That old saying ran through my head as I wiped my hands on a dish towel. Since I was caught, I could only face it.

I braced myself, straightened my sweater, and walked into the living room, every eye following me like I was about to walk the plank.

They crowded the living room, clutching travel mugs and reusable grocery bags, looking like they’d just stormed out of Costco.

Little sister-in-law jabbed her finger at me and started shouting:

“Natalie, tell me, how has my mom ever wronged you?

“You grew up with everything handed to you—never had to cook a day in your life.

“My brother’s job is special, he’s rarely home.

“My mom felt sorry for you, so ever since you married in, she’s lived here to take care of you.

“Three meals a day, she cooks and brings the food to you.

“She sweeps and mops for you.

“She washes your clothes and pants.

“She even washes your underwear!

“She practically worships you!

“Isn’t that good enough for you?

“What right do you have to humiliate my mom like this?”

She rattled off the list like an angry prosecuting attorney, her voice rising higher with each accusation.