“How…what…” I stammered, not knowing what to say. Was she guessing? Did she really know about Margaret? How much should I tell her? My mind ra...ed through a jumble of thoughts and I could feel my panic start to rise.“Relax, my dear. I’ve known about you and Margaret for awhile. In fact, for a couple of months, now” she laughed. I was feeling like a fool.“How…who…?” I repeated, weakly.“Just a minute, dear, I’ll be right back”, and she walked out of the room and I heard her speaking quietly on the. “He’s a big boy and can look after himself.”“Well he wouldn’t have to look after himself if that bitch…”“That’s enough you promised not to bring it up again” your dad gently interrupts her seeing you wince.Most likely your mom had been about to start ripping into your ex-girlfriend again. Like any mom she’s protective of you and when you told your parents the reason why the two of you broke up she was furious with the girl. Your dad had been less vehement with his response, only asking if you. Julie had only a few clothes with her so after she cleaned herself up I took her shopping for some new ones. Her personal and join credit cards had been cancelled – obviously by her husband – so I advanced her the money. We went to lunch and then took a stroll in the park since it was a beautiful day. I didn’t want to pry so I refrained from asking too many questions. But I did have some very practical questions when we got back to my condo. After she changed into, and showed off, her new. I started to pour her liquor out in the sink. Big mistake. The shit hit the fan. She attacked me fists flailing, kicking, screaming. She jerked the bottle away from me and turned it up. She was going to kill the bottle off. We wrestled. The bottle went flying and broke. She came at me with the broken neck of the bottle. I, the chicken shit that I am, ran like hell. I stayed on one side of the table away from her while she proceeded to let me know what she thought of me. I can't or won't share.
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