She gave a broken laugh.
“Your father called me ‘the whale’ for half my pregnancy.”
Emma’s expression softened slightly.
Patricia continued.
“After you were born, everyone wanted to know when I planned to lose the weight.”
I felt my anger shift.
It didn’t disappear.
But suddenly, I understood where some of Patricia’s behavior came from.
Patricia looked toward Emma.
“I promised myself that if my daughter-in-law ever became pregnant, I would make sure she didn’t go through what I went through.”
Emma stared at her.
“You thought this was helping me?”
“I thought if someone had warned me—”
“They did warn you.”
Patricia stopped.
Emma leaned forward.
“You just told us your doctor and husband constantly humiliated you.”
Patricia said nothing.
“So how did you turn that experience into a lesson that I needed to be humiliated too?”
That question hit harder than anything else said that afternoon.
Patricia covered her mouth.
Ryan looked away.
I could almost see the realization crossing her face.
For decades, Patricia had mistaken cruelty for concern because that was what people had called it when they treated her badly.
It explained her behavior.
It did not excuse it.
Emma seemed to understand the same thing.
“I’m sorry those things happened to you,” she said.
Patricia began crying harder.
“But you don’t get to pass them down to me.”
Silence.
Then Emma looked around the room.
“The baby shower is over.”
Patricia’s face fell.
“Emma—”
“I want everyone to leave.”
Nobody argued.
Guests quietly collected their belongings.
Several people hugged Emma before going.
Most didn’t say anything to Patricia.
Within fifteen minutes, only five of us remained.
Emma.
Ryan.
Patricia.
Me.
And Emma’s best friend, Sarah, who stayed long enough to put the remaining cake into the refrigerator.
Before leaving, Sarah handed Emma the largest slice.
“Doctor’s orders.”
Emma laughed through her tears.
It was the first pleasant sound I had heard in nearly an hour.
Patricia stood by the door.
“Can I call tomorrow?”
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