Chapter 2 - THE SLAP ACROSS THE PORCH
“Get your bags,” I said, pointing firmly toward the front door. “You have five minutes to get off my property before I call the sheriff.”
Lennox let out a hysterical, mocking laugh.
“You wouldn't dare!” she hissed, marching toward the entryway. “Terrence, tell your mother she’s insane! We have nowhere else to go! Our storage unit isn't ready, and the hotels in this area are booked!”
Terrence finally stood up, looking pleadingly between us. “Mom, please. Just give us a few days. We’ll sleep in the guest room. We won't get in your way. Just help us figure this out.”
“I helped you buy your first house, Terrence,” I said quietly, looking directly into my son’s eyes. “And you watched your wife piss away the proceeds on vanity. I am done cleaning up your messes.”
“You selfish, cold-hearted old bitch!” Lennox shrieked.
Before I could blink, Lennox stormed across the living room, her hand raised high. Crack.
The back of her hand struck my cheek with terrifying force, sending me staggering back against the hallway console table. A ceramic vase wobbled, tipped over, and shattered into a hundred pieces on the hardwood floor.
The pain radiated hot and sharp across my face, but the shock was even greater.
Outside, across the manicured lawn, Mrs. Gable—our neighborhood’s most observant retiree—was walking her poodle. She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth dropping open in absolute horror as she witnessed the entire scene through my open front door.
Lennox froze, her hand still raised in the air, suddenly realizing the magnitude of what she had just done in broad daylight in front of a neighbor.
“Lennox...” Terrence whispered, his face draining of all color. “What the hell did you just do?”
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I touched my stinging cheek, feeling the heat rising beneath my skin. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I simply reached down, picked up my landline phone from the hall table, and pressed a single speed-dial button.
“Marcus?” I said into the receiver, keeping my eyes locked on my daughter-in-law’s terrified face. “It’s Bessie Mitchell. I need you down at my house right away. My son’s wife just assaulted me on my front porch in front of witnesses. And I want to file every charge the law allows.”
