Priya and her husband, Kevin, agree to be taken out for dinner by Kevin’s parents. But when they get to the restaurant, the couple get a side of snide remarks with their meals.
My husband, Kevin, and I eagerly accepted a dinner invitation from his parents. We were newly married and had recently gotten back from our honeymoon, so we had yet to catch up with them.
“Priya, are you sure you want to do it?” Kevin asked me as I was doing my makeup for the evening out.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “They’re family now, and I have to spend more time with them, you know.”
Kevin sat at the edge of the bed and put his shoes on. I knew he was concerned about how his parents would behave with me.
It’s not that they didn’t like me — they didn’t get to know me properly. Leading up to the wedding, Kevin’s mom, Sasha, only spent about four hours alone with me. And as for John, Kevin’s father — I don’t think I’ve ever been alone with me.
“At least they’re splurging for dinner,” Kevin chuckled.
I laughed — we were both pleasantly surprised that they had chosen a fancy place for dinner.
We get to the restaurant, and Sasha and John jump up, excited to see us.
“How was the honeymoon?” Sasha asked. “You must tell us everything!”
“Mom, it’s not something we’ll talk about, but we can show you some photographs,” Kevin teased.
After that, the evening was pleasant, laughter filling the air, until my mother-in-law, in a seemingly playful manner, dropped a bombshell.
“I never thought my son would truly settle down with someone,” she said, glancing my way.
I almost choked on my wine.
Before I could even recover from the shock, my father-in-law chimed in.
“Even less with someone like you,” he said, chuckling.
I was stunned. I couldn’t help but demand an explanation for myself.
I glanced at Kevin, whose eyes almost popped out of his head.
John revealed that he and Sasha had envisioned a different type of person for his son — someone more beautiful.
“That timeless striking type of beautiful. You know?” John laughed.
“Yeah, the type that speaks of old money,” Sasha said.
The revelation left me feeling hurt and upset.
Then, the waiter came and took our orders, signaling the end of the conversation.
“Mom, Dad,” Kevin began when the waiter left.
“What, son?” John asked. “We’re just saying what we thought all along.”
“But you’ve always been surprising, I’ll give you that,” Sasha said.
And the entire time, I sat there. Looking at the two of them, unable to believe I was sitting right there, they continued to have a conversation that offended me.
“You’re good-looking enough, Priya, don’t worry,” John said, grinning at me from across the table.
I didn’t know how to respond to such a statement. I wanted to throw my wine at him, but I knew it would be the worst thing I could ever do.
Then, Karma worked herself.
A waiter carrying a tray of hot soup inadvertently tripped and spilled the scalding liquid on my father-in-law’s lap as if on cue.
Instantly, my upset feelings transformed into a mix of disbelief and suppressed laughter. But then, my instincts kicked in, and I poured some water onto John’s lap to help with the burning soup.
I could see that he was in a lot of pain. I called for the waiter to get more icy water while my mother-in-law took over.
When the waiter brought a jug of water to our table, I did the same thing.
Kevin’s parents were too preoccupied with the unfortunate incident to dwell on their earlier comments.
“Oh boy,” Sasha said, dabbing at John’s pants with a napkin. “This is going to leave such a stain.”
“It’s tomato soup, isn’t it?” John sniffed and grimaced when Sasha pressed too hard.
“Are you okay?” Kevin asked sarcastically.
“Dishwashing liquid and white vinegar,” I chimed in. “That should remove the stain.”
“Beauty and brains, huh?” Kevin chuckled.
I sat back and sipped on my wine, waiting for my prawn and ginger dumplings to arrive.
Perhaps, at that moment, the universe had decided to serve a dish of instant Karma, reminding us all that beauty is more than skin deep and that our words carry weight.
Kevin apologized for his parents’ words when we went home, but I tried to reassure him that it wasn’t on him. They were just two older people who were committed to their view of what their son’s life was supposed to be.
The next day, my in-laws came over, bringing along pastries because Sasha remembered that I loved cinnamon buns.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better woman for my son,” my father-in-law said later, over coffee and the treats.
Then, they apologized for everything.
