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“And what makes you think there would be any mess?”
“’Cause you can be messy, Persia. It doesn’t take much for you to go off. We both know how nasty your attitude is.”
“And we both know how messy your mouth is.” I snap defensively. The nerve of her! “My attitude is fine as long as you don’t say anything crazy.”
She tsks. “And I’m hoping you leave it at home and not do or say anything to ruin Pasha’s day. I realize how you can be when all the attention isn’t on you.”
My mouth drops open. This fucking… I stop myself from telling her to get the fuck out of my home. “She’s our mother,” I hear Paris say. Big fucking deal! “Excuse you? You’re hoping I don’t do anything to ruin it. Are you serious? You’re the messy one. All you do is sit around and talk about everyone, including your own daughters. When have I ever said or done anything to ruin a family event?”
She tilts her head. “Persia, you heard what I said,” she says, ignoring my question. “Leave your attitude here, or don’t show up.”
I laugh at her. “Who are you to tell me to stay home? It’s not your wedding, nor are you in control of the guest list. And you’re definitely not in any position to stop me from going anywhere. Sorry to burst your bubble, Mother. But I’m going to be there. Bottom line, the problem isn’t me; it’s you.”
She glares at me. “You know what, I’m going to forget that I’m your mother for one minute and deal with you on the level you seem to want me to be on. So let’s finally get this out in the open. Since you’re so gully and wanna treat me like I’m some street bitch, from one bitch to another, what the fuck is your problem with me?”
I blink, shocked that she’s come at me in this fashion. I watch as she slips out of her heels. Either her feet are hurting, or she’s preparing to jump up and charge me. Either way, I brace myself, rising up in my seat as well. As I’m sitting here with her, it dawns on me that this is the first time she and I have been alone in a room together in years. There’s no Porsha or Paris or Daddy to keep us from killing each other. There’s nothing but space and air between us. She stares me down. I stare back. “Well, I’m waiting.”
“You already know all of this.”
“I want to hear it again,” she says, shifting back in her seat.
I remain perched on the edge of mine; just in case. “I see you as a weak woman,” I admit, staring directly into her eyes. She doesn’t blink. “You sat around and let Daddy cheat on you, then you’d wanna run out to chase him down, banging on doors and confronting his whores instead of leaving him.”
“Are you serious? The fact that I stayed with my husband, your father, and raised my daughters, made sure you all had the best of everything, and kept our home intact while he was out there cheating, makes me weak? I married your father knowing what kind of man he was. Yes, he had other women. But make no mistake, a fool I was not. And weak, I was not. Hurt, yes. But never anyone’s fool. Your father did nothing I didn’t allow him to do to me. He cheated on me because I let him. And leaving him was never an option, regardless of how many women he slept with. I chose to stay with him because I loved him then, and I love him now. He took care of home. And he took damn good care of you girls. Yes, I could’ve left him. Yes, I could’ve put him out. And I did pack his shit, numerous times. But he kept coming back.”
“Because you kept taking him back,” I state, rolling my eyes. “You acted like you couldn’t live without him.”
“I didn’t want to,” she snaps. “I took him back because I wanted him back. Not because I needed him. Not because I couldn’t live without him. Our home, his business, everything we own, is in my name. If I wanted to be the messy wife, I could’ve divorced him and walked off with every-damn-thing and never looked back. And your father knew it. But I wanted my marriage. And, yes, I turned a blind eye to his other women as long as they stayed in their place and respected my space. That was our agreement. So forgive me for loving your father and for wanting to keep my marriage instead of walking out on everything we built together.”
“Then that makes you no different from me. You willingly and knowingly shared him, period!”
“Girlfriend,” she snaps, leaning forward in her seat with her hand on her hip. “I’m nothing like your nasty, trifling ass.”
“Whatever. The fact is, for years, you shared him with other women, so you’re just as nasty and trifling. Yet, you have a problem with what we do.”
She lets out a disgusted grunt. “Ugh! Don’t you dare sit there and compare what I did to the nastiness you’ve dragged your sisters into.”
“Mother, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, defensively. “I haven’t dragged Porsha or Paris into anything. They’re grown women. They don’t have to do anything they don’t want to.”
“And you’ve always been able to manipulate them.”
“I haven’t manipulated them into doing anything. You’re delusional and jealous.”
She snorts. “Jealous of what, the relationship you have with your sisters? The three of you are supposed to be close—you’re sisters. That’s how I raised you all to be. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a conniving, manipulative little bitch—excuse my French. But, the truth is the truth. Even when you were little girls, you always found a way to get Paris and Porsha to side with you. They idolized you. They’ve been so blinded by their love for you that they haven’t been able to see what kind of sick hold you’ve had on them. But trust me. One day they’ll see you for what you truly are. A nasty bitch! And you’re going to end up losing both of them.”
I’m literally stunned that she’s called me a bitch, right here in my own home—not once, but twice. I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. But the truth is, I’m ready to go off on her. “Mother, it’s time for you to grab your bag and go before I say or do something that you’ll regret.”
She remains in her seat. “I’m not leaving until we finish this conversation. So, if you feel like you wanna do or say something, then you do it. And I’ll beat the shit out of you. Trust me on this, darling child of mine. I’ve had enough of your mouth and your disrespect. I’m your mother, whether you like it or not.”
I clench my teeth. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I own my own business, and I handle my business. Look around you. Everything in here my sisters and I have worked for. I don’t ask you for anything, and neither do they. So what we do with our lives is none of your business. You want respect, then respect me. You come up into my home and disrespect me. You call me a fucking bitch in my home.”
“Well, you are,” she snaps. “So get over it. I’ve accepted that you and I will never have any other type of relationship other than what we already have; strained.”
I shift back in my seat, glaring at her. “Okay, Mother. And your point?”
“The point is, Persia, I know you don’t like me; you never have. Every chance you’ve gotten, you’ve tried to make that little fact known. And, yes, it used to hurt, knowing that one of my daughters had so much disdain and hatred toward me. But it’s okay ’cause you are an evil, miserable woman. You always will be.”
“How dare you?” I snap, leaning forward in my seat. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Mother.”
