AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Mmmph, you’re good, boo. But do you.”
She takes another sip from her drink. “Umm, I don’t mean to bust your bubble,” she says, walking out of the bathroom. I follow behind her. “But everyone isn’t as mean and nasty as you.”
“Excuse you?” I ask, feigning insult. “I beg your pardon. I am far from either of those things.”
She rolls her eyes up in her head, dramatically, putting her hand up. “Girl, talk to the hand. Save that mess for someone who doesn’t know you. I’ve seen you in action, sweetie. Okay?”
“Then you know I only bring it when it is called for,” I state, inching my way up on her bed. I’m on one end of the bed, and she’s on the other side. Both of us have our backs up against the headboard with pillows propped up behind us. “And you know like I do that ov
er the years that woman has said and done some of the craziest shit.”
“Well, that woman happens to be our mother and she still deserves some respect.”
I lift my glass up to her. Then take a sip, before saying, “Well, you keep on respecting her then. In my book, you get what you give. And she’s done nothing to get much respect from me.”
She shakes her head, cutting her eyes at me. I can tell she’s thinking something, but doesn’t say what it is. Instead, she raises her glass at me. The two of us sip our drinks in silence. Then somehow we end up talking about our childhood, reminiscing over some of the things we witnessed our mother saying and doing whenever she suspected our father was cheating on her. Why I even initiated the conversation about our father’s philandering ways is beyond me, but I do.
“Do you remember the time Mom baked those goodies and drove them over to Miss Janie’s, all pretty and sweet as she pleased, pretending that she didn’t know that she and Daddy were fucking?”
Miss Janie and our mother used to sponsor bus trips down to Atlantic City twice a year as a fundraiser for their church. The two of them had become good friends over the years, and travel buddies up until our mother caught her coming out of the same motel room as our father. But instead of jumping out of her car to confront them, yelling and screaming and fighting, she continued like she had no clue. I remember overhearing—because I was always somewhere ear-hustling—her phone conversation with Aunt Lucky, saying, “Oh, trust me. I had that bitch up in my house, eating my food, smiling up in my face and all the while she’s fucking my husband. Oh, no...I’ma fix that bitch real good. You right I should beat her ass. I don’t know why these hoes got to try me. I try to live a good, clean life. Try to do right. And here come these heathen-ass can’t-get-a-man-of-their-own bitches trying to disrupt my home. But, no, I’m not going to stoop that low and bang her in her head. I know she crossed the line...oh, don’t worry. I’m gonna deal with him, too. But, first, I need to tend to that, bitch...”
The night before their bus trip, she baked a big batch of double-chocolate chip cookies and fudge brownies, adding in a whole box of laxatives. Then she drove them over to her house. They sat and laughed and talked for a while, then our mother got in her car and drove back home. The next day they were all on the bus on their way down to AC when Miss Janie’s stomach started bubbling.
“Ohmygod, yes,” Paris says, laughing. “And the poor woman ended up shitting on herself that day because someone else was taking forever to get out of the bathroom. And they couldn’t turn the bus around because they were already halfway there.”
“And then Mom had the nerve to get up and slap her face.”
“After she told Aunt Fanny and them that she wasn’t going to get on that bus and act a fool.”
Paris and I are hysterically laughing. “Miss Janie had the shits for two days after that.”
“I know, right,” Paris says, wiping tears from her eyes. “Ohmygod, we have no business laughing at that woman like this.”
“And then Aunt Fanny said she had heard that Miss Janie’s asshole was enflamed and on fire for almost a week from all the wiping she had to do.”
We keep laughing.
“Mom was so wrong for that,” Paris says.
“Yes, she was,” I agree. “But, that goes to show you just how messy she could be. And she’s still messy.”
“Oh, so this is where the party is,” Porsha says, standing in the middle of the doorway with her hands up on her hips. She is still in her skirt and heels. “You heifers up in here cackling and sipping on yak while I’m out slaving over tax forms. This shit ain’t right.”
“Oh, hush,” I say, grabbing a pillow from off of Paris’s bed and tossing it at her. She catches it, throwing it back at me. “How was work?”
“Oh, it was fabulous,” she says, smiling. Is that a twinkle I see in her eyes? “I made about twenty-eight hundred dollars today. And I had a delightful working lunch with a potential client.”
I raise my brow, smirking. “It must have been some lunch ’cause, girlfriend, you have that just-got-fucked-good glow.”
She lets out a laugh, shifting her eyes. “Oh, please. I wish. I’m feeling good; that’s all. Anyway, what were y’all in here cackling about? I could hear the two of you all the way downstairs.”
“We were laughing at the time Mom gave Miss Janie the shits for two days.”
Porsha laughs. “Ohmygod, no. That was some funny mess. Why’d you have to bring that up? I felt so bad for her.”
“I don’t know why,” I say, waving her on. “Miss Janie was messy, too. She knows she was dead wrong for smiling up in Mom’s face like that, knowing damn well she was sucking Daddy’s cock every chance she got. I’m sorry. She crossed the line doing that. I would’ve given her the shits, too.” Porsha and Paris continue laughing. “I remember overhearing Mom on the phone, saying, ‘Every time she wipes her ass, she’ll think about how she shitted on me by fucking my husband.’”
The three of us are practically clutching our sides from laughing so hard at the thought. Suddenly, Porsha stops laughing and looks at Paris, then me. “Wait a minute...” she twirls a finger in the air. “Bedroom. Drinks. And you had lunch with Mom earlier today.” She squints, looking at me. “And you’re up here making her laugh. What in the hell did Mom say now?”
