She pressed both hands to her chest, as though her heart had suddenly started failing her. “Derek, are you hearing this? She’s throwing a piece of bread in my face! I gave her an apartment, and she’s waving some renovation at me! Now she has a business, now she’s some big important businesswoman! And what are we supposed to be—factory trash, is that it?”
“Mom, that’s enough,” Derek said at last. He set his cup down and turned toward his wife. “Marina, why do you always have to start something? She only asked you a question. You take everything like an attack. If you want, I’ll apologize for you.”
“For me?” Marina repeated.
Something inside her seemed to ring like a wire pulled too tight.
“What exactly are you going to apologize for, Derek? For your mother calling me a peddler? For her deciding that the money I earn belongs to all of you? Or for the fact that she discusses behind my back how I supposedly ‘don’t see you as real people’?”
“You twisted everything!” Nancy shrieked. “I have always treated you with an open heart! And you—”
“And I drove out to you last month,” Marina cut in, raising her voice for the first time that evening, “when the pipe burst at your place in Kingston. Do you remember that? I dropped three clients, got in the car, and came because you were sobbing into the phone that Derek was at work and water was pouring everywhere. I found an emergency crew, paid extra for them to come right away, bought a new pump for about two hundred dollars, and stood knee-deep in freezing water for three hours while they replaced the pipe. Do you remember any of that, Nancy?”
Nancy’s face flushed a deep, angry red.
“Did I ask you to do that?” she shouted. “You came on your own! Nobody called you over! And that pump you bought was the cheapest one—I looked online, there were models twice the price! So now you’re going to list every good deed you ever did, like I’m supposed to be indebted to you until I die?”
Marina laughed. The sound came out sharp and strained, almost unfamiliar even to her.
“The cheapest one?” she said. “Nancy, that was an Italian pump, one of the best in its category. But this isn’t about the money. It’s about the fact that I help you constantly. Every single month. Sometimes with cash, sometimes with groceries, sometimes with appliances. When you were sick, I brought you medicine. When you needed a phone, I gave you mine, even though it was practically new. When Derek didn’t have money for your birthday, I bought you that fur coat you had been dreaming about for three years. And not once—not one single time—did you say a simple, human thank you.”
The kitchen fell so quiet it seemed even the kettle had stopped breathing.
“The coat…” Nancy whispered, then caught herself at once. “What about the coat? A coat is a gift, not a bargaining chip! You think because you have money, you can buy everyone? Buy my respect? Buy my son’s love? Without him, you’re nothing! Who are you, anyway? Some girl from Nowheresville who came to conquer Baltimore! Your mother is a schoolteacher in some backwater town, and your father was a drunk who abandoned his family! Who do you think you are pretending to be?”
That was not just an insult. It was a blow aimed below the belt, precise and deliberate, delivered by someone who knew exactly where the bruises were. Because once, in a moment of trust, Marina had told Nancy about her childhood, believing her mother-in-law was almost family.
For a moment, Marina’s vision went dark. She gripped the edge of the table so she would not lose her balance.
“Be quiet,” she said, very softly. “Be quiet right now.”
“Oh, what’s wrong? The truth hurts?” Nancy could no longer stop herself. She was rolling downhill like a loaded truck with the brakes gone. “You think I don’t know why you jumped at the chance to marry Derek? You needed a Baltimore address! You needed an apartment! You used my son!”
“Mom, stop!” Derek suddenly yelled. His face had gone pale, and sweat shone across his forehead. “Do you even hear what you’re saying?”
“And you keep your mouth shut!” his mother snapped at him. “She wrapped you around her finger, and you were happy to let her! Sitting under her heel like a rag!”
Marina straightened. Her temples were pounding, but when she spoke, her voice had gone almost calm. Cold, even. It was the kind of voice people used when handing down a sentence.
“Nancy. First, I had my own Baltimore address three years before I ever met your son. I bought a room in a shared house with money I earned myself while working three jobs. Second, when I married Derek, he was living in this apartment, which looked like a shed with seventies wallpaper and cheap furniture from a discount set. I was the one who turned it into a livable home. And third, my father deserves the truth.”