I stood up and walked towards the exit door. "I'm out of here. I'll take a cab ride home."

Jonathan was on my trail. "Baby, we gotta deal with this, no matter how uncomfortable it is."

I spun on my heel and got in his face. We were both masculine and overly aggressive. "You gotta deal with the seed of Satan. I don't. What kind of demon lives inside her bald-headed ass? I'm deeply upset. I didn't want to come here and deal with this bitch, but nooooo, you just had to talk me into it. I am not her door mat or her punching bag. I'm shocked she's not waving her Bible like Linda Carter's lasso"

"Who's Linda Carter?" she asked, approaching me.

I turned in circles, with my arms outstretched. "Pow! Wonder Woman!" I stopped spinning. "You think the earth evolves around you and your views and the last time I checked I didn't see a glass plane in your driveway."

Her eyes were balls of malice. "Son, let the punk go. Get out. Before I do more than dump gravy on him. My son isn't a fag. You brainwashed him with the wickedness of your being. I don't like you. I never liked you. How does my son marry a man with HIV?"

"Mother," Johnathan said. "You've gone too far."

She wasn't finished with her insults. "Are you HIV positive too, son?"

"No, woman. Drop it, okay? Seriously. You're treading on thin ice."

"I don't care about thin ice or your gay ass man. I will never accept your marriage, son. Hear me and hear me good. I love you, but I hate what you stand for. I could never fathom the idea of having a male daughter-in-law."

"You're starting to piss me off, bitch! Seriously."

She was stunned. "Son, are you going to stand there and let him talk to me like that? I'm your mother."

"He's my lawfully wedded husband. And you are acting like the bitch of the decade, truly. I'm just being honest."

"You're calling me a bitch, too, son?"

"Ugh, really, Mama? I said you're acting like a bitch. If you don't want to be called one, stop acting like you're still in high school."

"So I guess you have it all figured out. What, he sucked your dick all the way to the altar? Was the booty good? It can't be love. Look at him. He looks desperate. He probably doesn't even love you."

She hit a nerve. I said, "You're miserable, that's what it is. You haven't had a man in so long that you're jealous that your son knows how to keep a man satisfied. Hell, you're the one with tits and still failed to keep a man for longer than a month. So you're taking it out on me and Jonathan."

Jonathan said, "Baby, don't stoop to her level. I don't blame you for defending me and yourself. But we should let her be and just leave."

Those were the best words I heard all day. Let's go.

I opened the door, stomping to the car, but she rushed past Jonathan, blocking him from leaving. "Stay with me, son. I know some church women that would love to date you."

Ridiculous. Just ridiculous!

"Move, Mama. Now!"

He tried to push past her, but the black of her pupils told me that she wasn't herself. She looked possessed.

"My son stays here, sissy! Get out of my yard before I call the police on you for trespassing. Punk! Getting pounded in the ass is an abomination before God, I'm sure you know that by now. I feel bad for your mother. Hell, if she would have swallowed you, my son would be married to a decent church going woman, looking forward to having babies. Surely your womb, I meant ass, can't multiply and be fruitful. But I'm the seed of Satan, punk, please!"

Jonathan raised his hand to slap her, but I caught it.

"She's your mother. Don't."

"Both of you damsels in distress fags get off my porch, no--"

Impulsively, I slapped her across the face and pointed at her. I meant business. "You will never disrespect me or my husband again. I apologize for smacking you. I've never hit a woman in my life, but I'm not your fag and neither is my husband. Until you learn how to respect us, stay the hell away from us."

I took a devastated Jonathan by the hand and pulled him to the car.

"Mama, why do I have to seek your approval or continue to be emotionally abused by you."

They were both crying, both hurting. She sobbed because she was losing her son and dreams of being a grandmother went out the window the day he unzipped my jeans, the day he gave me his virginity.

And he cried because his mother was his world, but that has been compromised.

"Harry is coming between us!" she accused.

She threw the Bible at us, hitting me in the head. I shook it off. Touché for slapping her.

Quietly, we got in the car. I was driving because my baby was too crushed to be behind the wheel.

"Divorce him and marry a woman! Two men can't multiply and be fruitful."

As I put the car in reverse, she sprinted up to the hood and was beating our four hundred dollar a month Kia Sorrento with the Bible, in a fit of rage.

"Faggots!"

We sped off.

Her hair disheveled, she ran behind us, throwing the Bible.

She tripped and fell on a neighbor's lawn just as people were rushing out of their homes, taking her side.

My stomach burning, Jonathan and I held hands.

In silence...