Page 6 of Midlife Woes (Ex)

“You hear that buzzing noise, Sheila? It’s not even summer yet, and the bugs are out in full force.”

“You’re slobbering drunk.” I would’ve given him the finger, but since he no longer existed for me, that would only make me look like I had lost my damn mind giving the finger to a dead man that wasn’t even there.

It followed us up the stairs whining like a bitch on the rag all the way, and shit really hit the fan when it became obvious that Sheila was spending the night. He stood like a dolt with his mouth open when we both came back from the bathroom getting cleaned up, both dressed in the nightshirts I’d grabbed on the way from the closet.

Sheila and I had a bit of a tussle while we both ignored him because neither one of us wanted to lie on his side of the bed, but I ended up winning that one. “You’re going too far, Jolene.” He roared at the end of the bed, but I just fluffed my pillow and pulled the covers up around my shoulder as I looked at a wide-awake Sheila.

“Pressy looked good, didn’t he?”

“He sure did. And he couldn’t take his eyes off you. You two make a cute couple.”

“Don’t we just?”

“I’m standing right here.” The lord of the flies was having himself a fit at the end of my bed in the middle of the night.

“I think I should start working out more; I gotta get my body limber. Remember, I used to get my feet over my head? I haven’t done that in a long time.” I was talking to Sheila, but I was sure he understood exactly what I was hinting at. Those yoga exercises used to come in real handy in the bedroom back in the day.

He stomped out of the room when no one paid him any mind, and the two of us started giggling like schoolgirls, which only made him more upset, and that only made us laugh harder. I didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy or pity for him. It’s not my fault he put on a show for the judge and got himself in this situation.

If he lasts a month, I’ll eat my shirt, and it’ll mean that I have to work on my skills. It’s been years since I’ve had to be mean and ugly, but I still remember how to do it like the southern lady that I am. I guess he forgot that my Daddy raised me to be half-boy and half-rabid dog.

My Daddy is the meanest somebody you ever did meet, especially when it comes to his family. Since Mama couldn’t have any more children after birthing me, he’d put everything he ever dreamed of for a son in his only child, and poor Mama had a time of it trying to convince him and me that I was a girl.

We didn’t have much on account of my grandparents disowning Mama when she took up with the town menace in high school, and Daddy never wanted to do anything other than fix cars for a living. He was nowhere near as respectable for them as her brothers and sisters’ significant others, but my parents didn’t care.

While most of her siblings were on their second and third marriages, my folks have been together for forty-seven years. I don’t think I ever heard them say a cross word to each other, and my Daddy still treats Mama like his little southern peach. Still bringing her flowers every Sunday morning from the garden, they’d both grown together back when I was a little whippersnapper.

I felt tears burn the corners of my eyes at the thought that I was yet another failure in that regard. But I wasn’t about to stay with a cheat to keep up appearances. I always thought that Kevin and I would be the same, that our love was strong enough to withstand anything.

On the other hand, if the curse took me and skipped my Savanna, I’d take it.

* * *

In the morning,I eased myself out of bed while Sheila was still asleep, cussing myself up one side and down the other for drinking too much the night before. I’m one of those drunks who can feel the liquor, but my cognizance is still a hundred percent, so I remember everything I’ve said and done.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my teeth and wondering, not for the first time, how my life had gone to shit. I tried to remember if there had been any missteps on my end, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why my husband, the man who’d sworn to love and protect me, had decided to turn my life upside down.

I felt a crying jag coming on but fought it back viciously. Now was not the time to be weak; there’d be time enough for that when this nightmare was over.

I took a hot shower and snuck into the closet to get dressed since Sheila was still asleep, sprawled all over hell and back over the bed. I wonder how her poor husband sleeps with that mess.

I was feeling pretty good as I made my way down the stairs to start breakfast for me and my bud when I heard an unexpected voice at my side door. Have you ever seen a scalded cat with its back hunched and every hair standing on end? That must be what I looked like when I stepped into view.

“Well, if it isn’t the diseased harlot of the South.” I sneered just before Preston’s ex-wife charged into my home past my idiot soon-to-be ex and came at me.

“You stay away from my husband, you bitch.”

“Oh, to hell with this.” I didn’t mean to hit her that hard; I swear I didn’t, but it was too damn early for this mess. My knuckles hurt from connecting with her hard-ass man-made nose, and I shook it off as I stepped over her screeching ass on my way to the coffeepot.

CHAPTER7

The dickless wonder that I’d been married to for way too long rushed to help his new mother-in-law up off the floor, and I shook my head as I took my first sip of the life-saving brew and lamented the fact that I’d given that asshole the best years of my life. Well, at least I got my awesome kids out of the deal.

Now, I’ve known this Marly twit for more than a quarter of a century, so I know her theatrics very well, and she didn’t disappoint this time. As soon as she was on her feet again, something she was not accustomed to with her bed-hopping ways, she started breathing fire.

“You stay away from my husband, you bitch.” Jealousy is an ugly thing, especially on a used-up middle-aged tramp. I was in no mood to deal with her mess, not the way she wanted anyway. I reached for my cell phone that had been left on the counter last night and, ignoring the both of them, punched in some numbers.

“Hey, Pressy, hi; I was just calling to see how you’re doing this morning.” Her eyes bugged out of her head, and the tampon string that was still attached to my ass was fit to be tied. I’d made a misstep, though, in my little cosplay, Preston sounded way too excited to hear my voice.

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