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I scoff. “Ugh, this has nothing to do with Persia or Paris. This is about you, and your attitude toward us. And the ugly shit you allow to come out of your mouth. I sat here and tried to overlook the mess you were saying about not leaving us money, about what you’ve done for us, about who we sleep with, about how we embarrass you. Get a grip, Mother! You and your damn sisters are pathetic. Now go back and gossip about that.”
By the time I’m done saying all this, I am on the verge of tears. But I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. Not today. I strut off, leaving her sitting at the table with her jaw dropped open.
By the time I finally get home, I am emotionally exhausted. The only thing I want to do is crawl up in my bed. “Damn, that was a long lunch,” Persia says the minute she sees me walking through the house. “How was it with the ole Wicked One?”
I grunt. “Ugh, I don’t have the energy to get into it right now.” I drop my bag on the floor and remove my shades, tossing them up on the table. “Right now the only thing I want to do is listen to some music, soak in the tub, and take me a nice long nap.”
She shakes her head, taking me in. She walks over and wraps her arms around me, giving me a hug, then lets me go. I walk toward the stairs.
As I climb the stairs, I hear her saying, “Poor thing. I keep telling y’all that woman is hateful.”
Persia
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It’s almost seven o’clock in the evening when I finally decide to go upstairs and check in on Paris. She’s been up holed up in her room long enough. I’ve given her enough time and space to sulk; now it’s time to snap her out of it. When she came home this afternoon with her eyes all swollen and red, I knew that she must have finally gone off on our mother for, once again, saying something slick. Crying is Paris’s M.O. after she’s gone off on someone.
Even growing up, she was always the most sensitive out of the three of us; always wanting to please everyone; always wanting everyone to get along; always wanting to be sure everything was in its proper place. Whereas Porsha and I were always very vocal about our feelings, she kept hers bottled inside. Then when it got too much for her, she’d go off. And afterwards, feel bad about it. Although she’s more outspoken now than she’s ever been, she still has a ways to go. I’m telling you. It took everything in me not to call our mother to see exactly what in the hell had come out of her mouth this time. I wanted to scream on her. But I didn’t.
With four crystal tumblers filled to the rim on a tray, I tap on Paris’s door, trying not to spill any of our drink—Remy Martin XO with a light splash of Coke. Two stiff drinks apiece should do the trick, I think as I approach her door. Normally, we simply barge into each other’s rooms, not caring what we might walk in on. There have been plenty of times when we’ve walked in and caught one of us with either our fingers or a toy of some sort shoved deep in our pussies. But since my hands are full I decide to tap on the door with my foot.
It takes her a minute to finally swing open the door. She has a towel wrapped around her body, and one wrapped around her hair. “Since when you start knocking on doors?” she asks as she pops her hips back into her bathroom.
“Well, if you slowed your behind down, hooch, you’d see that I come with a tray of drinks. And I didn’t knock, I kicked.”
She sticks her head out of the door. “Whatever. I needed that drink earlier today after the fiasco down at the diner with Mom. But, now is good, too.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, walking into her bathroom, handing her a glass. She takes a sip.
“Ohhhh, yes...this is good. It’s exactly what the doctor ordered.”
“Shuga,” I say, smacking my lips together, flipping the lid to the toilet down and taking a seat. “Let’s cut to the chase. I’m dying to know what popped off between the two of you ’cause when you walked up in here, you looked wrecked.”
“Girl...” she pauses, gulping back half of her drink. “Whew, that hit the spot.” She removes her towel from around her head and starts blotting her hair. She takes another sip of her drink.
I huff, impatiently. “Hooker, will you tell me what the hell happened between you and Mom today? You’ve kept me in the dark long enough. Now spill it, damn you!”
She laughs. “Okay, okay...calm down. No need to get all indignant. I get to the restaurant and before I can even get in my seat good, she started up. I was literally no more than five minutes late and she was ready to pounce.” She replays the whole ordeal back to me. And when she’s done I’m practically laughing, wishing I could have been a fly on the wall to see her going off. “Ohmygod, why are you laughing? I don’t see anything funny about this shit.”
“Girl, the idea of you turning out the diner and Mom sitting there slack-jawed is absolutely priceless! I bet she wanted to get up and slap you sideways for talking to her like that. And you cursed her. Oh, yeah. She wanted to give you a beat down right there on the spot.”
“I’m sure she did. But she stayed in her seat. But I could tell she was fuming. Still, I didn’t care one bit. She took it too far this time.”
“Oh, well,” I say, watching her comb out her hair. “She got what she deserved. She’ll get over it; and if she doesn’t, so the fuck what? I don’t know why you’re surprised. I mean, when has she not come out of her face sideways?”
“I know, but still. I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that. And definitely not out in public like that.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please. She’s always somewhere running her damn mouth. She’s the one who cranked it up. She wasn’t concerned about what she was saying to you, so why should you care?”
“It still doesn’t make it right,” she says, combing conditioner through her hair. “I’m gonna call her to apologize for allowing her to take me there.”
I buck my eyes at her. “And why in the hell would you do that? After she carried on the way she did?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. I’ve never spoken to her like that. No matter what she’s ever said, I’ve always bitten my tongue.”
“Well, I’m sorry. She needed that tongue-lashing. Trust me. It’s been long overdue.”
She shakes her head. “It wasn’t right. I owe her an apology.”
