My tailbone screamed. I felt the impact in my teeth.
The room froze. Dishes clinked.
I looked up, completely stunned, cheeks burning. Everyone just stared.
The shame hit harder than the fall itself, settling in my chest like a weight I couldn’t shake.
Laura was the first to speak, and she laughed.
“Well,” she said, too loudly, “guess we finally figured out what kind of weight that old chair can’t handle!”
Then she cackled again, her hand over her mouth like she’d just made the joke of the night.
“Maybe it’s time for a little portion control, honey. We can’t have all our furniture ending up like that!”
My throat went dry.
I didn’t know what to say. I could feel tears sting my eyes, but I forced a laugh and muttered, “I’m okay…”
“That chair was worth $800. But I’m only asking you to pay me $500, since it was technically a gift to have you here.”
I sat there on the floor, jaw clenched.
“Excuse me?”
She crossed her arms. “It didn’t break from being old. It broke from your weight, plopping down all at once.
I think it’s only fair if you cover the cost. You break it, you buy it. Isn’t that how it works?”
I turned to Nick.
His lips parted as if he might defend me, but then he closed them again and stayed silent.
I swallowed hard and whispered, “I’m sorry,” even though I didn’t know why I was apologizing.
I just wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
Then, something shifted.
George, my father-in-law and the quietest man in the room, stood up slowly. There was no dramatic slam of the table, no raised voice — only a steady, deliberate rise, like a tide coming in.
He looked at Laura and said in a low voice that cut through the tension like glass, “Laura… Do you really want me to tell everyone the truth about that chair?”
The room froze.
I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.
Laura’s smile faltered for the first time all evening.
She blinked, her voice sharp and thin.
“What are you talking about?”
George didn’t flinch. He turned to the rest of the table calmly, like he’d been holding onto this for too long.
“That chair? Laura bought it last week from Goodwill.
I was with her. She paid $22 for it.”
There was a soft gasp from somewhere near the end of the table. Laura’s face went pale.
“That’s not true,” she said quickly, her voice shaky now.
“Yes, it is,” George replied.
“And you know how I know? Because the back leg was already cracked when we brought it home. You looked at it and said — and I remember this exactly — ‘It’ll work for what I need it for.’”
He paused, eyes still on her.
“Then I saw you in the garage with a screwdriver, messing with that same leg.
I asked what you were doing, and you told me you were fixing it. But you weren’t. You were loosening it even more.”
There was dead silence.Continue reading…
