“We’re not giving out any extra food.” That’s exactly what my daughter-in-law, Marlene, said as she slid a glass of water across to me. Just water. Meanwhile, her entire family was devouring fresh lobster right in front of me. Enormous lobsters, the kind that cost $60 apiece, with melted butter glistening in the restaurant lights.

They didn’t even have the decency to be subtle about it. She did it in front of everyone, with that forced smile she always puts on when she wants to humiliate someone without actually being the bad guy herself. And that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst was seeing my son, Michael, nod as if she’d just said something sensible, something honest.

“You have to know your place, Mom,” he added, without even looking me in the eye.

I remained silent, not because I was speechless. I had them, many in fact, but something inside me decided to hold them back, to wait, to observe. So I smiled slightly and said calmly:

Noted.

Marlene blinked, momentarily confused. I think she expected tears, apologies, maybe a scene, but I gave her none of that, just that one word: noted.

Let me explain how I ended up here. How I ended up in one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city and had to watch my own family devour the $60 lobster while I had a glass of tap water in front of me.

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