My wifes ruining every celebration for us, my mother declared to me.
Marion suggests we meet tomorrow at a restaurant or a café, I told Mum over video call, beaming.
Sounds good, but let Marion pick the place herself beforehand, so we dont keep changing the venue when we order, my mother, Margaret Thompson, replied calmly.
Weve already chosen one, dont worry. A new eatery just opened in our neighbourhood, well try it tomorrow, I continued, unruffled.
A new place, eh? Fine, send me the address and tell me what time you and your father should be there, she said resignedly.
Consider it done, I replied, then hung up.
A short while later Margaret received a message with the address and the time. She had two daughtersinlaw and a soninlaw, and generally got on well with everyone except Marion.
She kept her distance from Marion, preferring not to interfere in her daughterinlaws life.
The problem lay in Marions lack of table manners and her utter insensitivity to tact.
A few months earlier the whole family had dined out, and instead of a pleasant evening we endured Marions whims.
She disliked the dish, complained that the waiter didnt smile, and bemoaned the thin menu.
Because of the latter we even had to change restaurants a couple of times that night.
But even then she found something to nitpick. She ordered a salad and asked for no onions.
The salad, as you requested, without onions, the waiter said, laying the plate before Marion.
Whats that on the salad? she asked, pointing with a manicured nail at a sprig of dill.
Thats just a garnish, the young man replied, puzzled.
And I never asked for dill in my salad? Marion pursed her lips, still indignant.
If youd like, I can remove it; theres no dill inside the salad, the waiter offered, thinking hed solved the issue.
Take the whole salad away. Youve ruined my appetite Bring me a milkshake, Marion ordered haughtily, turning dramatically toward the window.
All her demands were met, and none of the staff seemed upset. Naturally, the mood of the evening was ruined.
Marion sat with pouted lips and a sulky look while the rest of the family ate and chatted, making any outing with her feel like a punishment.
Even family gatherings were never free of her tantrums. Her petulance and capriciousness poisoned every meal.
At my aunts funeral Marion even managed to cause a scene.
Who cooked these pancakes? Theyre rubbery! she shouted loudly during the wake.
Hon, theres no need to raise your voice; just dont eat them, Margaret tried to calm her, noting the sideways glances from relatives.
Whats left for me then? I could cook better for my dog; the booze and juice are cheap enough. Ugh, Marion sneered.
Were not here to eat; were here to remember the departed, so please show some respect and stop complaining, Margaret said quietly.
Thats the point! Were supposed to mourn, but theres nothing to mourn over, Marion muttered sadly.
It seemed the awkward moment had passed, but it was only an illusion.
Later several relatives called Margaret, furious that my wife had been complaining about the food to them.
Marion felt ashamed and swore never to bring her daughterinlaw to such events again.
My mothers birthday was approaching, and Marion and I were planning to attend the family feast.
Knowing this, Margaret announced she was ill and postponed the celebration indefinitely.
She knew I was due to leave on a work trip at the end of the month and had been waiting for the perfect moment.
She devised a clever plan to celebrate her birthday without Marion.
The instant I called my mum from the other city, she started sending invitations to all the children.
Naturally, Marion was not informed of the family gathering.
Margarets birthday passed in a cheerful setting, free of disgruntled guests.
No one had to listen to complaints about food or drink. For the first time in two years she managed to relax with her grandchildren.
But the bliss was shortlived. The next day someone posted photos from the party on social media, and Marion saw them.
Hello, Margaret, did you have a birthday party? Marion asked, her voice tinged with hurt.
Yes, it went on as planned, even though I was delayed a few weeks, Margaret replied, not denying it.
Why wasnt I invited?
James was away on business, and we thought youd be bored on your own
I never get bored with you lot, so why didnt you wait for James to come back? Marion retorted suspiciously.
Because because his wife spoils every celebration with her sour face! Margaret snapped, then instantly regretted the words.
What? Thats me? I thought you were a good woman, and youre a snake, Marion sobbed before hanging up.
A few hours later James called his mother, ready to lecture her.
Why are you treating my wife like that? What have we ever done to you? he demanded, angry.
You havent done anything, but Marion constantly ruins celebrations, and you never stand up to her, Margaret shot back.
How does she ruin them? James asked, bewildered.
Her constant nitpicking and complaining. You cant even go to a restaurant or sit at a dinner table with her without trouble. Shes never satisfied, Margaret finally vented.
Shes just straightforward and honest, unlike you, and she always treated you like a mother, James replied.
Being blunt isnt the same as being rude. If she wants to be like a daughter to me, she should behave properly, not act like a petulant child! Margaret snapped.
Alright, Ill keep an eye on her and teach her how to behave. In return, promise youll always invite Marion to family celebrations, James said, softening his tone.
Fine, but only if you take responsibility. Well see how it goes at the next gathering, Margaret agreed, though her heart sank.
Of course, Marion didnt change; she tried to be restrained but only made a mess of it.
Margaret had no choice but to shake her head and try to ignore the daughterinlaws outbursts.
She didnt want to argue with James any more, so she chose the lesser of two evils.
