I should have.
For the next six years, I became Roland’s wife with “no family.”
And Beverly never let me forget it.
To her friends, I was “the teacher.”
She described my upbringing as “very modest” in a tone that made modesty sound embarrassing.
She gave me cookbooks at Christmas.
One year, she bought me a guide called something like Running an Elegant Household on a Budget.
She corrected my table manners.
She frequently reminded me how fortunate I was to marry into the Tran family.
The irony was that they weren’t wealthy.
Roland’s late father had owned a dry-cleaning business.
Beverly sold it after his death.
They were comfortable.
Nice home in Dunwoody.
Lexus in the driveway.
But Beverly treated me as though I had been rescued from poverty.
And Roland allowed it.
Whenever she said something insulting, he laughed.
Changed the subject.
Or later told me,
