Ingram

I’m hiding out like a coward because the moment we left the church steps and dove into Mari’s car, I’ve been on a downward trajectory as I should have anticipated.

My brother Marty’s kid, Moira is being christened tomorrow, something I forgot and something Mari only reminded me of after she sentenced me to eternal suffering.

Ian, when we gave his phone back-after Mari tried to find the photos to keep as extortion material, which I am glad to report she couldn’t-well he was so happy that when sister Mary Francis knocked on the door and started yelling about us, he stood there and lied through his teeth, swearing high and low that we’d all been there with him, the whole time. That we hadn’t moved from his sight.

He not only lied to a woman of the cloth, he made his wife proud when he told the sister she’d have to prove otherwise. Lizzie for once didn’t know what the heck was going on, but she was so hot for Ian after the nun left, she didn’t even ask.

Nuh. She started making eyes at him and had us all screaming for the door when she slyly dropped the word yoga. Yikes. I don’t think Ginny even took a breath until she was in her car with Little B and pulling away, tyres smoking.

So now I’m stuck in my apartment, on a Friday night with my intestines spasming because I know, I show up at that church tomorrow or mama will come at me like she owns a machete and hockey mask.

This sucks ass because I was fully prepared to start hitting the town tonight. Not that I’m concerned about the church seeing me. Snort, not where I was going. But it’s really hard to convince mama that I’m dying of Ebola if I’ve been seen partying it up the night before.

I gave serious thought to taking a dram of aunt Marveline’s cure aka the boil bomb but even I can’t bring myself to do it. Not even to escape my mother. I tried. The minute it touched my lips my hand shot out and tossed it against the wall.

The wall now has a brown stain that ate through a little of the wall paper. And I’m out of options. Which is good because I’ve seen that Cindy chick and she’s still a gargoyle. Weeks later.

My phone beeps as I’m about to say screw it and go lick that get out of jail free stain off the wall, and I pray it’s not mama with an update of this week’s church tellings. Oy ve, my will to live is too low to endure it.

Rus: Hey, can we talk about what you saw?

I snarl at the words and curl my hands into claws at the idea of even looking at that man. Talk? That would be hard to do without teeth!

In-great: Go suck a bag of hairy balls.

Hehehehe!

Rus: Please. It wasn’t what it looked like.

Not what it looked like! To me it looked like he lied through his teeth about going out of town for the night to meet with some big wig or whatever. It looked like he was having dinner with two old stuck up fucks who sneered at me when they saw me. His parents from the looks of them. Aaaand to me! It looked like he was sitting next to some big titted, fake lipped puffer fish who had her hand on his crotch while he just sat there looking pretty.

To me it looked like the man I love, the man who coincidentally hasn’t once said those words back, was blowing off my birthday, my feelings and all those promises he made me, to have dinner with his folks.

Now granted, those people looked like straight up wangs, but I would have gone with him. I would have suffered through that dinner and let them look down on me because all I wanted was for him to be with me on my day.

I blew off my parents for plans with him and then spent my night helping my friend Bo with some event he was catering. He was short staffed, I was terrified of sitting at home alone waiting for Rus to call in case mama discovered me alone and pathetic on my birthday.

But he didn’t want me there did he? The short answer is no. Maybe he’s ashamed of me and doesn’t want me meeting his parents. Who knows. Quite frankly who cares.

Maybe he was just two timing me with some fat lipped plastic vagina.

To me it looked like he was having dinner with his parents, the rich people who’d be unimpressed if he showed up with his girlfriend from the wrong side of town.

To me it looked like he was playing happy families with someone appropriate while he just played hide the salami with me.

In-great: Looked to me like you’re a liar.

I’ve said this to him before of course. At the barbecue where Tyson wore a killer green speedo, showed us his man junk and proposed to Rox. In fact I remember my exact words being ‘you’re a Goddamn liar Russell Mark and if you want something to do with your dick, shove it up your ass’.

I only got to hiss it at him, but I felt good. It felt good to finally release some of the hurt and anger I felt after I dropped-okay so I threw it at him, I’ll be mature in another life-the tray and ran home to cry like a loser.

Rus: I wasn’t cheating on you. My mother invited her. I don’t even know her.

Like that’s the only issue? As if the lies he told aren’t as big as seeing him with someone else while I was supposed to be alone at home pining and waiting for him.

Because that’s what he expected. He made me promise I wouldn’t go to a club or bar and party. He made me say those words and I actually kissed him in gratitude when he told me he’d call me around ten.

I feel so…pathetic for how grateful I was that he’d pull himself away from an important meeting to talk to me on my birthday. As if he was doing me a favour. I thanked him!

I should shank him.

In-great: Don’t care. You’re a liar. And an asshole.

Rus: Ing, please don’t be childish, we should talk about this like adults

And that right there…

In-great: Fuck off and die asshole.

That is childish. He wants to start playing dirty? He hasn’t seen dirty. I come from a family of freaking twelve where you fight dirty or lose your supper to a brother who’d swallow your plate whole if he had to. I come from a line filled with people who think anger management are words rich people say because they don’t know how to win a fight.

My phone vibrates again and I’m so ready to smash it to pieces I have to breathe and unclench my fist from where it’s clamped around my phone.

Breathe Ingram. The man knows he messed up and he’s trying to get out of it with that overly rational mind of his.

Russell is like that. It’s one of the things that drives me crazy about him. I’d get angry at the pizza delivery guy for being thirty minutes late, delivering a cold pizza, with two slices missing, cuss him out and try to smother him when he tells me to chill out. Russell would drag me off him with a chuckle and say the guy must have been hungry and there’s way more food than we can eat. And I can just reheat it in the microwave. And then he’d still tip the idiot! With actual money. Who does that? I once paid a pizza guy with Monopoly money and told him to prove it in a court of law. What? I was broke and hungry. And you’ve met my mother!

I’d put laxo tabs in Marly’s coffee for using the last toilet paper in the bathroom stall at work and he’d lecture me about the dangers of messing with people’s digestive systems. Okay, I get it. He was at the office with Gray after Mari whammied the poor guy. Marly deserved it though and wow did she learn her lesson when she ran into that bathroom. And all the toilet paper was missing. Hehe.

But…that’s just me! I like doing terrible things and cackling about it with my cousins because it’s funny and that’s just the way I feel. Russell would tell me to relax and breathe through my temper.

Not that he doesn’t appreciate my temper but Russell has these hangups about me getting arrested. Or killed. I tried to tell him I’ve been in lock up and it’s a breeze because I always carry around a cigarette in my shoe. And aunt Marveline knows whores so I already have a friend base there.

He’s just, so rational and cool all the time while I always feel like I’m a crazy person who’s constantly being lectured.

Which is fine. I’ve lived with mama, wait, I mean mama has lived even after I’ve dealt with her for twenty six years on this earth. I can handle his weird little hang ups about me getting shanked on the street by the guys I’ve insulted since I crawled out of the womb.

What I can’t do is be okay with him doing that shit to me when I have a perfectly sane reason for being furious!

You know what? Fine. I can be mature. Rox taught me how to fake that shit and if she can do it with that psycho personality, I should be able to sail through this.

I pick up my phone again, this time making a concerted effort not to abuse the thing and take a deep, calming breath before reading his text.

Rus: I know I messed up. I get it. Believe me i get it. I’ve punished myself enough that I understand what I did wrong.

Oh yeah! He thinks he knows where he went wrong? He hasn’t once apologized to me in specifics. Never once has he said the words, I shouldn’t have been there without you. Or, I shouldn’t have lied to you. Or, and this one is my favorite, I’m a lying sac of menstrual blood and I get that breaking a promise to you by abandoning you on your birthday was wrong. I deserve to be whipped.

All I get is one universal apology, as if he doesn’t really see what my problem is. And the kicker? When I pointed out that he ruined my day, he reminded me of his gift. As if I even wanted a shiny rock with zero practical use!

In-great: I wouldn’t bet on it, sport.