Green Eyed Monster

Festering Wounds

Lola and I haven't seen each other since we had our fight. That was over three months ago. Mrs. Tolbert and I no longer speak to one another. Ernest has vowed to never talk to me again. Drake now seemingly has proof he cheated because I'm crazy. Trevor's conflicted. Pinky sided with Lola and stopped speaking to me as well. However, Lola refused to press charges. She told the police she hit me first, and it was then that our verbal dispute became physical.

Thanksgiving is this Thursday. Trevor's home, but he's spending Thanksgiving with his dad's family this year. Heading out, he kisses me and asks, "You're going to be alright?"

    "Yes. I'm fine. Enjoy your family, and I'll see you tomorrow." He nods and then leaves.

I look to see who's over to Mrs. Tolbert's today, but she's gone. I guess she went to her son's this year. I light the fireplace as I eat alone. Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. Peeking out my foyer window, I see it's Gypsy. I open the door to her, smiling, saying, "Happy Thanksgiving. May I come in?"

    "Sure."

    "I come bearing gifts!"

She sets her picnic basket on my dining table, then removes a duck, dressing, a pumpkin pie, green bean casserole, and homemade rolls. I drop my head and start crying. She hugs me, saying, "There, there. All is well. C'mon, sit down. Let me serve you."

I sit as she combines my turkey, macaroni and cheese, cranberry sauce, and cabbage with her meal. As she's fixing my plate, she says, "And I'm not a phony. I'm not going to play stupid, or as if I'm psychic and just happened to come over today. Mrs T gave me her version of the story, so only if you want to talk about it, I'm anxious to hear your side."

Instantly, I stop crying and ask, "What'd she say?"

    "She acts as if you're just so psychotic over her grandson. You're new to the neighborhood, but I've been living next to Mrs T for more than 15 years now. She knew my husband and me well. She's been obsessed with King since he was a child. I met him when he was only 14. He was a cute little boy, well-mannered, but Mrs T's affection towards him just seemed unhealthy to me. She praises his mother today, but while she lived, she called her Satan, like she does his stepmother now."

    "Funny you say that. It's like once he came, I was nothing, and my daughter became everything. It's as if she pitted us against each other through her grandson."

    "Interesting observation. I remember the first day King saw Lola. Mrs. T told me how beautiful he thought she was."

Gypsy said, "Hi Mrs T. I see King's vacationing with you. That's nice."

    "It'd be nicer if he weren't falling for this beautiful dummy next door."

    "Ha! Ha! ...Who Mae?"

    "No, that degenerate she raised. Her daughter, Lola! Why can't my boys fall in love with real women like us, Gypsy? They're always sniffing after some weak pathetic floozy, who doesn't know how to use neither her head nor twat to get what she wants. But oh well, let me go play nice with this talking bird in lovely woman's clothing."

    "You're horrible, Mrs T. Talk to you later."

I sit listening to Gypsy peeved. Learning this old decrepit sow I've been falsely complimenting, trying to keep her from committing suicide because she despises being old, has been badmouthing my daughter and me all this time, makes my blood boil. 

Gypsy stays over past midnight. After all the painful gossip, I still enjoyed her company, grateful I didn't have to spend the holiday alone. I then go to bed.