Family Feuds

My relationship with my sister-in-law brought new meaning to the phrase ''for better or for worse.''

Maria Lopez

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When I first met Tina*, my future sister-in-law, it was during dinner at a nice restaurant where my fiance, Jesse, had arranged for his family to meet me. Trouble brewed even at that first encounter as Tina knocked over her water glass twice, burped loudly, and chain-smoked. She even asked bluntly, "Why do you guys want to get married? You could just live together."

Shocked, I looked at Jesse, not knowing how to respond to such candor. He smiled, reached for my hand, and said firmly but kindly, "We're getting married because we love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together." Tina harrumphed. "Oh, please! That'll wear off soon enough. Just wait till you're married."

Life with Tina didn't get easier after Jesse and I married. A month after our wedding, Jesse and I met with his family at a restaurant to celebrate Tina's birthday. When Jesse held my hand during dinner, Tina said sarcastically, "Aren't you guys over that yet?"

Startled, I turned to Jesse, who just smiled as if to say, Okay, it's your turn to explain. When I told Tina Jesse and I believe marriage is for keeps and that we're each other's best friend, she just sniffed. "Get real. Nobody loves like that." She stomped off toward the restroom to smoke a cigarette.

That night I told Jesse heatedly, "I'm sick of your sister—and her attitude. What's wrong with her anyway?" Jesse gently reminded me that none of his family, including Tina, were Christians, as we were. But when he encouraged me to build a friendship with her, I replied angrily, "That's easy for you to say! Guys look at relationships differently." I was realizing that during our wedding ceremony, when I'd vowed to stick with Jesse "for better or for worse," the latter part included his obnoxious sister.

I wondered if the chasm between us could ever be bridged — or if it was even worth trying.

For the next several years, Tina and I simply coexisted. Every time we got together, she talked about how she'd partied the night before. I struggled to find common ground with someone whose lifestyle so differed from mine. I felt forced to relate to someone I thought of as "a wild child," and I knew she thought of me as a religious "goody two-shoes." I wondered if the chasm between us could ever be bridged—or if it was even worth trying.

At family gatherings we continued to exchange minimal chitchat and gave each other the kind of gifts people give when they don't know each other well. Then one day I got a phone call from Tina. She wanted to know if I'd go out to lunch with her. After some waffling, I finally said, "Sure … when do you want to do it?" But what I was really thinking was, Oh, great. A whole lunch with her.

As the week before our lunch passed, I woke up each morning with knots in my stomach, dreading the event. I didn't share my feelings with Jesse, since I worried I'd already harped on his family enough. The day finally arrived. By the time Tina got to the restaurant, half an hour late, my response to her was frosty. We were escorted to a table. She asked about my job, and I gave a half-hearted response, then stared at a menu. After that, she monopolized the conversation, trying to goad me into saying something negative about Jesse. When I told her how sweet he was to me, that he even helped with the dishes, she said wryly, "Yeah, right. Like you live in a fairy tale. That can't be my brother."

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Originally published in: Today's Christian Woman, 2003, July/August, Vol. 25, Issue 4, Page 52

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