During a family dinner, Jennifer’s parents unexpectedly asked her to pay for her meal while they paid for everyone else’s. This caught her off guard. As the injustice stings more deeply, Jennifer’s resentment grows, laying the groundwork for a confrontation the family won’t soon forget.
I was eating my microwaved ramen the night I received Mom’s text about a “special family dinner,” and I almost choked on it. We had not all got together in a very long time, and it had been even longer since I felt like my parents wanted me to be there.
Being the middle child in a sandwich where everyone is fighting over the bread is like being the bologna, even though I love my family.
With my thumb lingering over the keyboard, I gazed at my phone. A part of me wanted to come up with some cheap defense, but then I remembered Tina and Cameron, my ideal older sister and my little brother who never makes a mistake.
Like always, they’d be there, soaking up Mom and Dad’s approval. And if I didn’t show up, I’d be the eternal afterthought.
I typed, “Count me in,” and sent it before I had a chance to edit.
Mom answered right away. Fantastic! Next Friday at 7 p.m. at Le Petit Château. Please don’t arrive late.
Le Petit Château. Elegant. I gave a low whistle, counting my savings in my head. This would not be cheap, but who knew? Perhaps it was an indication that things were about to change. Maybe, Jennifer the Forgettable, they really wanted to hang out with me.
I was nervous when I showed up at the restaurant ten minutes early on Friday. I was about to go inside when Mom and Dad arrived. Mom was beaming, and Dad was wearing his typical worried look.
We found a nice table inside, and Tina and Robert soon joined us. As usual, Tina looked amazing, making me feel like a potato in contrast. At last, Cameron showed up, running late as usual and griping about traffic.
After we had all settled in, Mom immediately started to minimize my importance.
“So, Jennifer,” Mom said, glancing at me through her menu, “how’s work going? Remaining at that tiny marketing company?”
I nodded while attempting to keep my cool about the “little” part. Yes, it’s quite good. Actually, we recently signed on with a sizable client. I am the campaign’s leader.”
Mom commented, “Oh, that’s nice,” but her focus had already returned to Tina, who was telling Dad all about her son’s most recent soccer match.
It hurt, but as we were eating, the mood lightened. We started chatting and laughing like we used to when I was a child because the food was so good.
As I was savoring my meal and the unique sense of belonging to the family, the check arrived.
Like he always did, Dad reached for it and began to go over the bill. However, he scowled and turned to face me.
“Jennifer, you’ll be covering your portion tonight,” he said in an unusually formal tone.
I blinked, certain that I had misheard. “What?”
“You’re an adult now,” he said, continuing as though he were giving a child instructions. “It’s time you start paying your own way.”
I began, speaking softly, “But I thought this was a family dinner.” Everyone else’s expenses are covered by you.
Dad’s scowl got bigger. “Your brother and sister need to provide for their families. It’s only fair since you’re not dating.”
Okay. The word mockingly reverberated in my mind. I forced back the tears that were on the verge of welling up in my mouth. I took out my credit card and gave it to the waiter without saying anything, hoping that it wouldn’t be refused.
The remainder of the evening was a haze. The hurt started to turn into something else as I was driving home. Something more intense and robust.
I woke up the following morning with a headache and a resentful heart. I alternated throughout the day between pacing my apartment like an animal in a cage and pouting on the couch. By nightfall, something had changed within me.
I was not going to walk away from this. Not at this moment.
Something began to take shape. It seemed crazy at first, but the more I considered it, the more sense it made. They were going to taste the medicine that they had to take.
I spent days crafting the menu before inviting Mom and Dad over for dinner. I spent a lot of money on fancy candles, sparkling-clean apartments, and an actual tablecloth instead of a cheap one.
When the dinner night finally arrived, I was remarkably composed. I was following my plan, and I had one.
At precisely 7 p.m., the doorbell rang. I smiled broadly as I opened the door after taking a deep breath.
“Dad, Mom! Enter now!”
My father gave me a wine bottle. “Place looks nice, Jennifer.”
I ushered them into the living room after saying, “Thank you.” “Supper is almost prepared. Could I please get you a drink?”
Mom sat down on the couch and looked over my bookshelf as I poured them wine. “So, my love, how are you doing? You haven’t communicated with us much since, uh, our last dinner.”
I laughed a little too hard. You know how it is, I see. Work has been extremely busy.
For a while, we engaged in small talk that was halting and punctuated by lengthy silences. The oven timer finally beeped, sparing us all.
“Dinner’s ready!” I said, maybe a little too excitedly.
The meal, which consisted of herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and a quinoa salad that took ages to prepare, exceeded my expectations. As they ate, Mom and Dad made the appropriate noises of gratitude.
Mom remarked, “This is delicious, Jennifer,” with genuine admiration. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
I shrugged, trying not to let her surprise give me the heat in my stomach. “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”
The dinner went along quite nicely, almost too smoothly. I nearly lost track of the original reason for my invitation to them. It was time, I realized, when Dad launched into one of his lectures about fiscal responsibility.
I steeled myself as I cleared the tables and brought out a fancy tiramisu for dessert. That was it.
I placed the dessert plates down and said, “So, I hope you enjoyed the meal,” in a lighthearted manner.
Grinning, they both nodded. Mom said, “It was wonderful, darling.”
My smile did not extend to my eyes. Fantastic. Please, that will be $47.50 per person.
There was an unbearable silence for a while. Mom’s fork clanked against her plate, and Dad’s expression changed quickly, from bewilderment to incredulity to rage.
He stammered, “I’m sorry, what?”
Channeling my Dad’s tone from that night at the restaurant, I spoke in a calm tone. “Well, both of you are adults. You ought to start covering your own expenses now.”
Mom’s mouth, like a fish out of water, moved back and forth. “Nevertheless, this is your house. You extended an invitation to us.”
“Yes,” I replied, a little harsher in tone. In the same way that you asked me to Le Petit Château. and then forced me to pay for my dinner while they took care of everyone else’s.”
Shame flashed on their faces as understanding appeared.
Dad said, “Jennifer,” in a rough voice. “That’s not… we didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean what?” I broke off, letting out a fume that had been building for years.
“Did you really think that I was less valuable than Tina or Cameron? Didn’t mean to ignore me all the time? Or did you simply mean to avoid being criticized for it?”
Mom tried to grab my hand, but I resisted her reach. “Sweetie, we had no idea you felt this way.”
It was funny, but not funny at all. “You didn’t, of course. Do you know what it’s like to be the family member who is never given much thought?”
Dad shifted in his chair a bit uncomfortable.
“We love you just as much as your siblings, Jennifer.”
“Do you?” I made a challenge. “Since it doesn’t feel that way. I work just as hard as Cameron and am just as successful as Tina. However, I always seem to be the one who has to “act like an adult” while they get away with it.”
Once more, the room fell silent, but this time the silence carried a heavy weight of unsaid words and long-ignored feelings.
Dad cleared his throat at last. “Jennifer, we really should apologize to you. a significant one.”
Over dinner, a woman converses with her parents | Source: Midjourney
With tears in her eyes, Mom nodded. “We never intended to diminish your worth. We are incredibly proud to call you our daughter. We simply haven’t done a very good job of demonstrating it.”
My own eyes began to well up, but I forced myself to blink them away. “I’m not interested in your excuses. I want you to improve. to improve. to view me.
Dad got to his feet, his gait rigid. I thought for a second that he was going to walk away.
Rather, he circled the table and gave me a hug. We hadn’t interacted in years, but even though it was uncomfortable and a bit too close, it was more sincere.
He said, “We see you, Jennifer,” in an overly emotional voice. “And you have our undying admiration. We’ve taken you for granted and been blind and foolish. However, that is now over.”
Mom entered the hug, and we stood there for a minute, a knot of arms, unshed tears, and long-overdue candor.
Mom laughed a tearful laugh and wiped her eyes when we finally broke up. “So, about that bill…”
I couldn’t contain my laughter. “I’ll tell you what. This is a house full. But when we go out again later? We are equally dividing the check. All of us.”
Dad gave a somber nod. “Deal.”
Nothing miraculously changed as they departed that evening. A single conversation doesn’t make years of feeling unappreciated and overlooked disappear. However, it was a beginning. A gap in the barrier I’d erected around myself that allowed a ray of hope to enter.
Here’s an additional tale: Carmen and Leo accept Jerry, their father-in-law,’s invitation to dinner, looking forward to spending time with him. However, Jerry, who is renowned for his frugal nature, presents the invitation as an uncommon act of kindness. Rather, he claims to have misplaced his wallet and gives Leo the bill. The couple teaches him a lesson after they discover the truth