The Dress I Wished She Hadn’t Worn

My future mother-in-law looked at my mom’s faded floral dress for maybe three seconds before she smiled.

“Teresa, how… vintage. I haven’t seen that style in decades.”

Mom glanced down at herself.

“It’s pretty old.”

“I can tell.”

Patricia said it lightly, almost sweetly.

Then she touched Mom’s sleeve between two fingers.

“You’re brave. I’d never wear something like that here.”

I felt my face get hot.

Mom simply pulled out her chair.

“I figured the restaurant was serving dinner, not grading outfits.”

Patricia gave a little laugh.

“Oh, of course.”

My fiancé, Andrew, was standing beside me.

He heard every word.

He said nothing.

That bothered me.

But not nearly as much as what he did twenty minutes later.

We were having our engagement dinner at an expensive restaurant in Chicago’s Gold Coast. Andrew’s parents had chosen it because, according to Patricia, they had been going there for years and the manager “always took care of them.”

Andrew and I had been together for almost three years. We were supposed to get married in four months.

Until that night, I thought the hardest part of joining his family would be learning not to take Patricia personally.

She had opinions about everything.

Where people vacationed.

What neighborhoods they lived in.

What schools their children attended.

What wine they ordered.

She rarely insulted anyone directly.

She didn’t need to.

Patricia could make someone feel poor just by asking where they bought their shoes.

And that night, my mother had given her plenty to work with.

Mom’s dress was cream with faded blue flowers. The fabric had gone soft from years of washing, and the narrow belt wasn’t even the original one.

I recognized it immediately.

She had owned that dress since I was a kid.

The worst part was that Mom had better clothes.

She owned a navy pantsuit I’d helped her buy for my college graduation. She had a dark green church dress. Two weeks earlier, she had bought a beautiful burgundy dress specifically because I’d told her Andrew’s parents were taking us somewhere nice.

So when she walked into the restaurant wearing that old floral dress, my first thought wasn’t kind.

Why would she do this tonight?

I hugged her near the hostess stand and whispered,

“Mom, what happened to the burgundy dress?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you wearing this?”

She looked at me.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Tonight?”

“Especially tonight.”

Before I could ask what that meant, Andrew walked over.

“Hey, Teresa.”

He hugged her briefly.

Then I saw his eyes drop to the dress.

Just for a second.

He looked at me afterward.

I knew that look.

We’d been together long enough.

It meant, Seriously?

I pretended I hadn’t seen it.

That was my first mistake.

“Have You Ever Been Somewhere Like This?”

Dinner started normally.

At least, as normally as dinner with Patricia ever did.

She talked about a trip she and Charles had taken to Madrid and complained about their flight home.

“I told Charles I’m done with regular seats on overnight flights. At our age, if we can’t fly business, we can wait.”

Charles smiled.

“She said that right up until she saw the ticket price.”

“And then I bought it anyway.”

Everyone laughed.

Even Mom.

Patricia turned toward her.

“Do you travel much, Teresa?”

“Not much anymore.”

“Europe?”

“No.”

“Caribbean?”

“Once. Years ago.”

Patricia nodded slowly.

“Oh. Well, travel isn’t for everyone.”

Mom took a sip of water.

“Neither are twelve-hour flights.”

Charles laughed.

Patricia didn’t.

A few minutes later, the server brought the wine list.

Patricia opened hers immediately.

“Andrew, should we get the Bordeaux Charles likes?”

“Sure.”

She looked at Mom.

“Do you drink wine?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you know what you like?”

Mom looked at the list.

“Usually red.”

Patricia smiled.

“That’s a start.”

I looked at Andrew.

He was reading his menu.

Mom ignored the comment.

Patricia continued scanning the wine list.

“This one is lovely. We had it at the club last month.”

Then she looked across the table at Mom.

“Actually, Teresa, have you ever been somewhere like this before?”

Mom raised her eyes.

“Like what?”

Patricia gestured vaguely around the room.

“You know. Fine dining. Tasting menus. Sommelier service.”

“I’ve eaten in restaurants.”

Patricia smiled.

“I didn’t mean restaurants in general.”

There it was.

Andrew gave a small laugh.

I looked at him.

He immediately picked up his water glass.

Mom’s face didn’t change.

“Then no,” she said. “Probably not exactly like this.”

Patricia leaned back.

“I thought so.”

Then Andrew reached across the table.

Mom had been looking at the wine list.

He took it from in front of her.

Not violently.

Not rudely enough that anyone at another table would notice.

He just slipped it away.

“We’re good with one.”

He handed it to the server.

Mom watched it leave.

“I wasn’t finished.”

Andrew smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. Mom already knows what to order.”

Patricia added,

“Trust me, Teresa. Half of that list is just expensive ways to make the wrong choice.”

Then she laughed.

“Better to let someone who knows it handle it.”

Mom looked at Andrew.

He looked down at his plate.

I should have said something.

I didn’t.

What Mom Told Me in the Restroom

About forty minutes into dinner, Mom stood.

“Excuse me. Bathroom.”

I waited a few seconds and followed.

She was washing her hands when I walked in.

“Mom.”

“Hmm?”

“What is going on?”

She looked at me through the mirror.

“Dinner.”

“Don’t do that.”

She shut off the faucet.

“Do what?”

I lowered my voice.

“Why did you wear that dress?”

Mom dried her hands.

“You really hate this dress, don’t you?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It seems to be.”

I sighed.

“You bought something nice for tonight. You knew where we were going. Why would you show up in something you’ve had since I was nine?”

Mom tossed the paper towel away.

“Because I wanted Patricia to think this was the nicest thing I owned.”

I stared at her.

“Why?”

“I wanted to see what she’d do.”

“Mom, seriously?”

“Yes.”

I crossed my arms.

“So this whole dinner is some kind of test?”

“Not for Patricia.”

I frowned.

“Then who?”

Mom picked up her purse.

“Andrew.”

That shut me up.

“What does Andrew have to do with your dress?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you testing him?”

She looked at me.

“Because I already know what his mother thinks of people she considers beneath her.”

I glanced toward the restroom door.

“Mom.”

“I’m not marrying Patricia.”

I didn’t say anything.

Mom continued.

“Neither are you.”

Then she adjusted the strap of her purse.

“I’m watching the man you are marrying.”

I felt myself getting angry.

“Andrew hasn’t done anything.”

Mom waited.

Then she asked,

“Why did he take the wine list out of my hands?”

“Because Patricia had already picked something.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Then ask him.”

She opened the door.

I caught her arm.

“You planned this?”

Mom shook her head.

“I planned the dress.”

“Same thing.”

“No, honey. It isn’t.”

She looked down at my hand until I let go.

“I chose what I wore. Everything they’ve said since I walked in belongs to them.”

Then she went back to the table.

I stayed behind for a few seconds.

Because suddenly I couldn’t stop thinking about that wine list.

“She Doesn’t Know This Stuff”

When I returned, Andrew smiled at me.

“Everything okay?”

I sat down.

“Why did you take the wine list from my mom?”

His smile faded.

“What?”

“The wine list.”

“I was clearing the table.”

I looked around.

There were four menus, five glasses, a bread basket, two bottles of water and a vase between us.

“You cleared one thing.”

Andrew glanced at Mom.