‘Yeah,’ he said, closing the fridge. Then, as if nothing had happened, added: ‘But don’t end it all.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m going to the bar with the guys to watch the game. Cancel everything. Tell everyone something’s up.’
‘You’re going to throw your own dinner?’ – I asked. – ‘Todd, I’ve been planning this for weeks!’
‘Don’t worry, Claire,’ he said, waving me off. – ‘Just tell everyone we’re busy or something. They’ll understand.’
‘They’ll understand?’ – My voice rose. – ‘Todd, people are on their way! You told me to do the decent thing and now you’re leaving?’
‘I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the guys,’ he said, ending the conversation.
He then grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.
‘You can’t do that, Todd!’ – I shouted, but he was already gone.
I was so heartbroken. I had put my heart and soul and all my savings into this dinner and he just walked away as if nothing had happened.
Cancel everything? After everything I’d done?
But most of all, I felt humiliated.
How could he do this to me? How could he so easily ignore all my efforts as if they meant nothing?
I stared at the table while the candles scoffed.
Is it worth it, Claire? – I asked myself. Is this how you want Todd to treat you? No. You can’t let that happen.
In that moment, I decided I wasn’t going to cancel dinner. I’m not gonna let him make me feel guilty again.
If Todd wants to act like a spoiled brat, so be it, but I’m gonna show him what real ‘shame’ means. He didn’t know who he was messing with.
I pulled out my phone and sent a group message to all the guests:
‘Party is still on! Change of plans. Meet at the bar on the main street near our house. Bring an appetite!’
Then I got down to business.
I packed up all the food and loaded it into the car. Then I drove straight to the bar Todd had mentioned.
When I arrived, the place was already full of people. I looked around and noticed Todd sitting at a table with his friends, his back to the door. He was completely unaware of my presence.
‘Ma’am, can I help you?’ – The bartender asked, seeing the trays of food.
I smiled my sweetest smile. ‘Oh, I’m just here to share a meal with people who will really appreciate it.’
I chose a table next to the bar, within sight of Todd, and began laying out the dishes. The smell of food quickly caught the attention of everyone in the room. The people around me started craning their necks to see what was going on.
‘What’s that?’ – One man asked, pointing at the treats I was putting out.
I raised my voice so the whole room could hear me, ‘This was supposed to be my husband’s birthday dinner. But he decided to leave me and come here, so I thought, why would it all go to waste?’
The room exploded with talking and laughter, and some people even applauded. Then Todd finally turned around and saw me.
He immediately walked over, his friends started whispering.
‘Claire! What are you doing?’ – he hissed, his eyes darting nervously between me and the growing crowd.
I didn’t even look at him.
I turned to the nearest group of people. ‘Do you like ham? Help yourselves! The cake will be here soon.’
Just as Todd started to get indignant again, the door opened and his parents, my parents, my sister and our cousins walked in.
They looked at us, then at the food and then at everyone enjoying what was supposed to be a formal dinner.
Todd’s mother, bless her candour, walked right up to him. ‘What’s going on here, Todd? Claire said to meet here for dinner, and why is she serving food at the bar?’
Todd looked like he wanted to fall through the ground.
‘Um, it’s complicated, Mom,’ he muttered.
‘Oh, I’d love to explain!’ – I intervened. – ‘Todd decided that watching the game with his friends was more important than dinner, which he asked me to organise himself. So I brought dinner here!’
His father shook his head. ‘How disrespectful,’ he muttered.
Meanwhile, my mum picked up a plate and said: ‘The food smells amazing. Let’s eat!’
Soon the whole family joined the other diners in partaking of the meal I had spent so long preparing.
And Todd’s friends? They all laughed at him and said they would never forget the day.
When I brought the cake, the bar was like a real party. It said in big letters on the cake:
Happy Birthday to my selfish husband!
The bar exploded with laughter when I read it out loud, but Todd wasn’t pleased.
‘Did you really have to do that, Claire?’ – he muttered.
I tilted my head, smiling a sweet smile. ‘Absolutely.’
When everyone had eaten, I started to collect the empty trays. Just then, the bartender stopped me.
‘Ma’am, you’re a legend,’ he said. – ‘Drinks are on the house if you ever come back. Without him, of course!’
I laughed. ‘Thanks! I’ll be sure to stop by sometime.’
The family didn’t linger long after the meal was over. My dad gave me a proud nod as he left, and Todd’s mother said he could have done better.
As we drove home, Todd kept grumbling about how he was ‘humiliated.’ As soon as we got back, he started complaining even more.
‘Claire, you humiliated me in front of everyone!’ – he said, spreading his hands.
‘No, Todd,’ I replied. – ‘You humiliated yourself. And by the way, don’t expect any more home-cooked dinners anytime soon.’
He realised it was useless to argue with me. He just turned round and went into the bedroom.
Two weeks have passed since then, and believe me, Todd has changed. Well, mostly.
His unrealistic demands have lessened and he’s become unusually polite, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll give him another one of these. He hasn’t apologised directly for dumping me, but his ingratiating behaviour speaks for itself.
I guess now he knows I’m not the kind of wife who’ll put up with his nonsense. If nothing else, it’s a victory.
What would you do if you were me?