Marlene’s father, who had remained relatively quiet, finally spoke in a tone that tried to be authoritarian. “Look, ma’am, I understand you feel offended, but you’re making an unnecessary scene. We are respectable people. We don’t deserve to be publicly humiliated this way.”
I turned to him slowly, and something in my expression must have made him take a step back.
“Publicly humiliated,” I repeated, and my voice was dangerously calm. “Interesting choice of words. Tell me, what exactly did you all do to me half an hour ago? What would you call leaving someone without food at a family dinner? Telling her she needs to know her place, implying she’s too poor and embarrassing to be around her own family.”
He didn’t answer. He just clenched his jaw and looked away.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “The humiliation only counts when it happens to you, right? When I suffer it, it’s just setting necessary boundaries, right?”
Marlene’s mother touched her husband’s arm. “Honey, maybe we should go. This is clearly not going anywhere.”
“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “Not yet. Because there’s something else I need to say, and you’re all going to hear it.”