He gave me a weird look. He was rather dashing in an old Michael Jordan basketball jersey and black cargo shorts.

"I was at my mom's."

I narrowed my eyes, displeased. "Are you kidding me? Your mom? Not the same wrench that wished you were dead a few days ago because you didn't drop everything and run to her side, all over a measly twenty dollars you owed her. Not to mention she flipped when she found out we're married."

"She called me over to apologize, Harry."

I rolled my eyes. "Ursula the Sea Witch apologized to you? Now I know you're pulling my chain."

Jonathan handed me a cup of my favorite coffee. Smelled good, but I wasn't a Folgers in your cup husband right now.

"Why didn't you wake me up and let me know you were heading out, baby?" I asked.

He was uneasy. He hated confrontations. "Because I'm grown and I didn't need your permission. Good or bad she's my mother."

I shook my head. "Are you hearing yourself? You're married. You should have let me know you weren't going to wake up in my eyes this morning. Do you know how scared I was, that something happened to you. You don't just leave."

He was getting agitated. "You were sleeping. I thought I was going to be back by the time you woke up. I was tied up."

"You could have left a note."

He frowned. "I text your phone. And again, I'm grown. My daddy died five years ago. Let the alcoholic enjoy permanent sobriety." He gave me a half kiss and sipped his coffee, sitting down on the bed next to me. "She wants to talk to you."

"I'm being punked. Aren't I? I'm still not over your mother dumping hot gravy on my crotch because I married you."

"It's the past, baby."

"Dude. Three days ago isn't the past. If I want my johnson at one hundred and ninety degrees I'd stick my pole in a furnace myself."

"Just go talk to her. She's truly sorry."

I hopped up and pointed at him. "Maybe you didn't hear what I told her when she nearly gave my mid-section third degree burns. I will never darken her doorstep again. I meant it."

He grinned, slapping my romp as he sauntered out of the room, humming some Barbra Streisand cut, of all people.

"Get dressed. We're going over there. And brush your teeth. You talk too much crap. Let her apologize, no matter how fake it may be. And we can get back to our life."

"Fine."

I had a bone to pick with her anyway..

We didn't leave our place until about 4:00 pm. We were caught up in some serious love making. Jonathan thought he was slick. Whenever he upset me or did anything to piss me off he made my toes curl with my eyes rolling to the back of my head, pounding my ass to the bed, daring me to get lippy. Or as he put it, "Talk that shit now!" while he's deep inside the decadent center of my Tootsie Pop, driving me crazy. Of course he won, every time. Because I started stuttering like an intoxicated Korean trying to see the Eiffel Tower from the sun.

He hit all the right spots. I felt like we were River dancing. We were hot, sweaty and panting, going at it like Jack rabbits. Jonathan and I didn't argue much, despite spending eight Christmas holidays in a committed relationship (Christmas was also our anniversary), but during our twenty minute drive to his mom's house we fussed like drunken sailors.

So much for sexual bliss.

"Once we hear what your crazy mother has to say, we're leaving," I said, eyeing Jonathan from the passenger seat.

He rolled his eyes, his skin crawling with pressure. "Do you have something to say about every damn thing, baby?"

He tried to focus on the road. There was a lot of unusual traffic, but I couldn't focus on how crisp and sunny it was here in great ole Miami, Florida because my spouse wanted to suddenly check his estrogen levels in rebellious conversation.

I couldn't deal with arguments. If I wanted to be nip tucked about my actions I would have married a woman.

"I just hate dealing with Cruella," I said, talking about his mother. "I feel like a damn Dalmatian."

"I do, too. I mean, she's not that bad, baby."

"Not that bad? OK, who the hell are you and where's my husband? I get it. You must be a Kayne West clone, just ranting and raving, talking a bunch of nonsense."

"Kayne drops knowledge in his rants. Plus mom has her days."

"Aunt Flow comes to town every day in that house, repainting the walls with blood. Do you remember we used to live with her after we were evicted from an apartment we had for five years, the direct result of allowing selfish friends and family to live with us and sabotage what we worked so hard for?"

"Who the hell is Aunt Flow?"

I eyed him. "Her time of the month."

"Grow up, baby."

"Grow a pair and stand up to your mother. I understand you respect her. I do, too. I'd do (and have done) anything for her, but the way she talks to us is unacceptable! You don't treat a dog the way she treats us and frankly my dear I don't give a fuc..."

"Watch your mouth, Harry."

"I'm grown, sir. My daddy was dead longer than yours so let his dead beat butt stay in early retirement next to your permanently sober papi."

We were five minutes away from the evil Ice Queen's institutionalized house. A place I didn't care to remember or return to.

Jonathan was the eldest of three kids. And the Lady's only son. His bald head ass sisters only used him for financial gain and tarnished his image in biased dialogue behind his back.

"See, that's what I'm talking about, baby. Do you think before you speak?" he asked.

"Do you speak before you think? It's funny how you accuse me of doing the same shit that you do."

"Don't curse at me."

"Negro, this ain't Mr. Rogers Neighborhood. And I'm sick of telling you that you're not my damn daddy. I'll curse if I want to damn curse. Stop chastising me like I'm a child."

"You're acting like one. And stop being a drama queen. With your sensitive ass."

"Ha! But you can curse at me, Mr. Sagittarius? Why don't you try to kiss my ass?"

"Too late. Listen, let's just let it go, please. Bad enough I have to deal with my mother. Can we act like we just had the most incredible sex in the world, baby."

He cupped my hand, grinning.

I was fuming, but one look in his eyes and I was no longer mad with him. I could never stay mad with him. It was impossible. The angel in his eyes always appeased the demon in mine. No, I wasn't evil, but I did evil shit when I was angry. Hence why I taught anger management class. I did it more for my own development and well-being.

"Harry, once we leave...we don't have to deal with her again. The great book says honor thy mother and thy father whether they are wrong or right."

He signaled right, turning into his mother's driveway I liked to call the pathway to hell.

He turned off the car, handing me the keys. "Let's go, baby."

Reluctantly, I unfastened my seat belt and glanced at the well-tended home, startled to see his mean ass mother standing on the porch, clad in a pink silk robe and furry slippers.

She smiled, phony of course.

My heart pounded with unease. I gazed at Jonathan. I wanted to say yes, we must honor our parents, but she's an in-Law. Nothing that vicious gave birth to me and if she provoked me to wrath, there was going to be a Nightmare on Elm Street today.

Slowly, dreading it, I got out of the vehicle and walked towards her. The skies boomed a bit, hints of storm clouds invading those white puffs of cotton and throwing a huge dark shade over the neighborhood.

We locked eyes.

And we never looked away from each other....

A tropical depression was brewing...