Chapter 4: Accusations & Silences

Little sister-in-law’s belly was huge. She was five months pregnant, her hand resting protectively on her bump, about to be a mother herself, yet still so hot-tempered you’d think she’d just found out someone keyed her car.

Big brother continued, “Natalie, Mom knows you love pierogi, so she made them specially for you. You like chive filling, so she cleaned the chives one by one, washing them over and over. You don’t eat pork belly, so she bought pork loin. Mom says machine-ground meat isn’t flavorful, so she chopped it by hand. She’s made pierogi her whole life, and everyone says her filling is delicious. When you first came to our house, didn’t you say the same?”

I admitted it. Back then, I thought my mother-in-law’s pierogi were delicious—better than any I’d had at a diner. I’d raved about them to Derek, even texted my mom a photo of the first batch.

Big brother went on, “Mom insists on hand-rolled wrappers for that chewy bite. She kneads the dough herself, rolls out each wrapper, and wraps every pierogi by hand. Where else could you eat such handmade pierogi besides from Mom?”

It’s true. Pierogi sold outside these days aren’t handmade at all. The store-bought ones taste like cardboard and disappointment.

Mother-in-law also chimed in:

“I was afraid you wouldn’t get used to our family after marrying in, afraid you’d feel left out. So I always stayed with you, treating you like my own daughter. You don’t like breakfast, so I was worried you’d get sick from hunger. That’s why I made so many pierogi and put them in the freezer, so you could have a bowl every morning. But you threw away all my good intentions. What did I do wrong to make you so angry? Tell me, I’ll change. Wuwuwu…”

Her sobs were the soundtrack of my new married life. The guilt trip was Olympic-level.

See? So-called ‘explaining’ just means listening to them scold me. They only talk about how good my mother-in-law is and accuse me of being ungrateful. No one even asks why I did what I did.

I felt invisible, my reasons floating somewhere in the background, ignored like a TV on mute. I wanted to shout, to make them see me, but the words stuck like peanut butter in my throat.

I was about to explain, but little sister-in-law interrupted again:

“Natalie, do you even have a conscience?

“My mom treats you so well, and how do you repay her?

“Since you met my brother, have you ever bought my mom a single piece of clothing?

“It’s been two months since you got married, and my mom pays for all your food and takes care of you.

“We, her kids, don’t even need to use Mom’s money.

“Derek isn’t home, so her entire Social Security check is spent on you alone!

“Not only are you ungrateful, you waste her hard work.

“You’re the textbook definition of an ungrateful brat!”

I couldn’t help but laugh, a short burst of disbelief escaping me. “Your mom is good to me? That’s what she told you, right?”

Big brother immediately pointed at sister-in-law and brother-in-law: “No need for Mom to say it—ask your sister-in-law, ask your brother-in-law, does Mom treat them the same as me and little sister?”

Sister-in-law nodded. “Mom is pretty good.”

Brother-in-law agreed. “Yeah, Mom treats us all the same.”

Little sister-in-law raised her voice: “Did you hear that? Sister-in-law and my husband don’t even share our last name, and weren’t born by my mom, but she treats them like her own. Could she possibly treat only you differently? You’re a new daughter-in-law; my mom only tries to please you, she wouldn’t dare give you attitude. No mother-in-law would dare show a new daughter-in-law a bad face within two months of marriage. If my mom ever did treat you differently, it must be because you were bad to her first and she couldn’t stand it anymore!”

I laughed again, softer this time. “You’ve said it all—good and bad.”

Little sister-in-law snapped, “Am I wrong? Never mind anything else. Today you threw away the pierogi my mom made, and she didn’t even dare get mad at you—she could only cry to us. That just proves you bully her all the time. If Derek were home, he’d have thrown you out already!”

If this was family, I’d hate to see what a real enemy looked like.