I Can Cut A Bitch.

Vanessa

            Mom and I were seated at a table, and she immediately ordered a bottle of wine for us to share. The waitress came over, uncorked the wine, and then poured the two glasses.

            Instead of looking at me or asking me about the kids, she stared at the waitress hard, bullets coming out of her eyes.

            The waitress smiled and walked off.

            “Mom, what was that about?”

            “What?” She stirred the glass and brought it to her lips for a drink.

            “You murdered her with your stare.”

            “Well, she’s a cunt and I don’t like cunts…”

            My eyebrows popped up to the top of my forehead because I was so stunned. I’d never heard my mom talk like that ever. Honestly, I felt like I was talking to my dad more than my mom. “Whoa…am I missing something?”

            She licked her lips before she returned the glass to the table. “Your father and I came here last week for dinner, and while I was outside on the phone with you, she very persistently pursued your father…and I didn’t appreciate it.”

            I glanced at the waitress who was helping another table. She looked younger than me by a few years.

            “This is my favorite restaurant,” she said matter-of-factly. “So I’m not going to stop coming here.”

            “Is that what your fight was about?” I asked, remembering her mentioning something about an argument last week.

            “Yes.” Her arms folded across her chest. “It just gets old…seeing these young women chase after your father like I don’t even exist. I know he doesn’t take off his wedding band ever so they just don’t give a shit.”

            This conversation made me uncomfortable, thinking about women my age finding my father attractive, but I was my mom’s best friend and I wanted to support her in this, so I just ignored my discomfort. Plus, she hardly ever cussed, so I knew she really was angry. “I wouldn’t be threatened by her, Mom. You’re a hot piece of ass and you know it.”

            She smirked but it was accompanied by an eyeroll.

            “I’m serious.”

            “That’s nice of you to stay—”

            “Yes, I’m saying it because I’m your daughter, but I’m also saying it because I mean it. I’ve heard Conway’s friends say things all the way until he moved out…you’ve still got it. Forget her.”

            “I have. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to punch her in the fucking face…”

            I chuckled. “I get it…it’s hard not to get pissed.”

            “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea…but one day you will.”

            “I know women hit on Griffin when I’m not around.”

            “And he tells you about this?”

            “No,” I said with a laugh. “My god, that’s a suicide mission. He knows I get so angry that I’ll cut a bitch with a damn butter knife…” I took a drink of my wine. “But I know it happens and it makes my blood boil. Bitches and bimbos thinking they can steall my man from me…give it a try and see what happens.”

            “Griffin is a very loyal man.”

            “Oh, I don’t worry about him. But every time I think about it it still makes me angry. That’s just what we have to deal with. We both married hunks and we’ll have to deal with this for the rest of our lives…”

            She smirked. “You think your father is a hunk?”

            “Not personally,” she said. “But my friends have always called him Zaddy and all that nonsense…”

            “Zaddy?” Her eyebrows furrowed.

            “Nevermind,” I said quickly. “I’ve just had to deal with this stuff all my life…so I know what you’re talking about. It’s fucking annoying. And if it’s annoying for me…I can’t imagine how shitty it is for you.”

            The waitress came back to take our order.

            My mom seemed to have cooled off from the conversation and she looked at her menu calmly. “I’ll do the rigatoni.” She set the menu to the side.

            “I’ll do the same.” I slid the menu over.

            The waitress looked at my mother another moment, her eyes squinted. “Do I know you from somewhere? Do you come in here a lot?”

            My mother had the grace to force a smile and say, “Yes…it’s my favorite restaurant.”

            I should just let it go, but I couldn’t. “But you probably remember her because you tried to fuck her husband.”

            Her face immediately paled when she put the two together.

            My mom didn’t scold me. Instead, she smirked.

            “Who fucking does that?” I snapped. “But that shit didn’t work on my dad because my mom fucks like a whore and is a fine piece of ass, so sink your claws into someone else because my dad ain’t interested. Bitch.”

            She was so shocked she didn’t know what else to do but rush off in a hurry.

            My mom didn’t berate me for embarrassing her in the restaurant. Instead, she burst into heavy laughter. “Oh, revenge can be so sweet sometimes…”

“I tell it like it is,” I said. “I got that from you, you know?”

            When she smiled it was with a look of pride in her eyes. “Yes…I do know.”