But the two male waiters pinned me down, refusing to let me move. Clara glared at me angrily, saying, "You’re getting more and more outrageous."
"One is pretending to be my husband’s mother, and the other is pretending to be Mrs. Shaw."
"Why don’t you take a piss and look at yourself? With your character, even if you stood naked in front of my husband, he wouldn’t want you!"
The other servers chimed in, "That's right — our Clara is the real Mrs. Shaw."
"You're nothing but a country bumpkin. What right you have to compete with Clara for her husband? I've never seen anyone so shameless, trying to be a mistress."
"Clara, people like her deserve to be taught a lesson."
Clara Lane nodded, then looked at our table and dumped the plate of braised fish, still flecked with ice, onto the floor.
She ground it under her heel and said, voice dripping with contempt, "You told so many lies — aren't you just angling for medicine?"
"Fine."
"Kneel and finish this pre-cooked fish you complained about, and I'll give you the pills."
I shot Mrs. Shaw a desperate look; she lay curled on the floor. She met my eyes and croaked, "No..." Despite all she felt, she refused to see me humiliated on her behalf.