Ign'ant Phone Calls

Why, oh why, did Tay-Tay call my house as soon as Number Two got out of jail?

Foster Mama didn't play that. She called Number Two and asked to speak to Tay-Tay. He refused to put her on the phone. So she told him in her meanest Foster Mama voice to "leave all that bullsh*t in Connecticut" because she "wouldn't have any of that breaking up her home."

Then I called. "Hello, is Tay-Tay there?"

"Who is this?"

"This is Anita. Put that bitch on the phone."

"Oh, man, I don't believe it," Number Two groaned.

"Well, believe it, baby, put that bitch on the phone!"

He handed the phone to her and click! That trouble-making bitch hung up on me.

I called right back. "Is there a motherf*cking reason why I was hung up on?"

"Uh ... the cord is broke," Number Two mumbled.

And that's when I started cussing him out from can't do to can't try. But it wasn't a particularly empowering cuss-out session. Because I was cussing him out for still being with her, instead of cussing him out for who he'd been to me. My tirade continued until he said, "I guess it's your turn to hang up now."

Bam! I took his suggestion.

By this time, Foster Mama and my foster sisters had gathered around like they had ringside seats to the most comical Friday Night Fight ever.

Number Two called back seconds later on Foster Mama's phone. I went into my bedroom, closed the door and called him back on my phone line.

"Anita, I don't understand why you're cussing me out. I haven't given you any reason to do that. I guess all this time you were secretly hating me and I just never knew it."

That instigated another barrage of cursing about how he threw me out at 3 a.m., how he didn't care about me, how he was stupid for still dating Tay-Tay.

"Anita, why are you cursing so much?"

"Because I motherf*cking can!!!! Now that I'm home with my family and I'm free, I can talk how I want, look how I want and be how I want, without somebody trying to change me into somebody else!"

Around this time, Tay-Tay started cutting up in the background. "Who's on the phone?"

"Tell that bitch Anita's on the phone!"

He didn't.

"Well since you're her motherf*cking guardian, give her this message. Tell her ugly black ass that she's a stank ho, and I'm just glad I didn't get her cooties."

Tay-Tay started throwing things. "Who are you talking to? Who's on the phone?"

Number Two, probably while ducking, gasped, "Tay-Tay stop that. Why are you breaking my stuff. That phone cost a lot of money!"

I continued screaming into the phone, until it dawned on me: This fool wasn't even paying attention to me at my angriest, most foul-mouthed best. Tay-Tay had truly won.

"Well, I hope you two live in unhappy bliss. Don't call me, and I never care if I see your face again, and tell that bitch she better not call my house no more, and if I see her face again, her ass is mine!"

With that I slammed the phone down, with red flames shooting from both ears, and yanked my bedroom door open to storm out of the room ...

... only to have Foster Mama and at least two sisters almost fall on top of me. They'd had their ears pressed to the door the whole time.

(Number Two Diaries Part 6 of 8: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 | Lessons Learned Parts 1-3: 1 2 3)