Free Of Hustle and Heart by Briseis S. Lily

they’re told and don’t want much more from their partners than a little attention and affection from time to time. John only has room in his life for one demanding woman, and our mother, Madeline Ciccone Moreno, already holds that spot. And she will never retire it.
    From time to time, John could appreciate our mother’s spastic impatience and overbearing zeal, especially when he believed the person on the receiving end deserved it. John does not like Whitney, so he’s thoroughly enjoying himself.
    “You know my car, don’t you?” my mother asks.
    “Yes, I saw your car outside when I came up,” Whitney says.
    “And you still chose to interrupt us.” My mother shakes her head at what she considers insolence.
    Whitney bites her lip and sighs, her own patience running thin. I arrive with her cup and hand it to her, but she refuses to take it, staring up at me as if I had betrayed her.
    “I agree with what my mother said.” John can’t help but keep the fire burning. “You saw her car downstairs. I mean, it’s obvious she was here visiting us.”
    I set Whitney’s cup on the coffee table in front of us. “Wait a minute!” I say. “She came here to see me. She didn’t know you’d be here visiting.”
    “But she did know, Zack,” John says, mocking the conversation. “She just said she knew mom…”
    “Shut up, John,” Whitney says. “In fact, I’m not going to take any more of this from either of you.”
    She pulls on my arm, biding for my attention, but I’m too busy glaring at my mother and John. The battle lines have been drawn, and everyone is waiting to see whose side I’m on.
    “But we’re family, and this is how we are with each other,” John says, only half kidding.
    “If you want to be part of the family, this is what it will be like.” John gets up and leans over to gather the empty teacups from the table. “All of a sudden you’re sensitive?” he says to my girlfriend. “Bullshit! You’re as worthless as they come.”
    Whitney’s gasp is barely audible, but I know she’s stunned. She’s not accustomed to being on the receiving end of a fight. She only endures my family—or at least she did up to this moment—because our relationship is very close to shit city. She snaps at John before I can open my mouth.
    She laughs at first, and it’s so unsettling. She removes her hands from my arm and scoots over, creating space between us.
    “Worthless,” she repeats, her tone impatient and bitter. “You need to learn how to talk to women.”
    “I don’t have a problem with women,” John says. “I treat all women the same—with respect, even when they don’t deserve it.”
    “Don’t deserve it? Who are you to make that decision?” Whitney says, her voice tinged with venom. “Please, you’re a heathen. But you know, it’s not your fault. No one ever taught you to watch your damn mouth.”
    My mother sits in silence, satisfied with just being a spectator…at least for now. John has worked himself into such a frenzy that he’s standing over Whitney like a snake ready to strike. Finally, I’ve had enough.
    “Whitney, shut up!” I say, desperate to end the turmoil that has invaded my house. I turn to John and give him a hard push; he stumbles back from the impact. I am taller than John, and my arms are longer, but I have no intention of fighting him over this. Once he regains his footing, he steps closer to Whitney, who is now on her feet and attempting to push her way past me.
    “Look what a psycho she is!” John yells. “She’s trying to push by you as if she could fight me!”
    Then my mother is standing in front of John. I didn’t even see her get up.
    “Do you actually think you could fight a man?” she asks Whitney.
    “No, Mom,” I say. “She doesn’t want—”
    “I’m talking to her!” My mother snaps her head around and glowers at me. “Don’t speak for her, Zacarias!” She turns back to Whitney. “Answer me! Do you think you can fight a