They talked for about half an hour more. This time I intently put effort into distracting my ears from whatever they were saying. I shouldn’t mouth off. I couldn’t mouth off. And I didn’t want to suck up any more insults, so I just shut my ears out, and focused on the job at hand. I raised Morgan’s foot to my eye level, staring into her sole as I thrust my thumps into it. For a moment there, I felt at peace, as the ordeal proved to be as relaxing to me as it was to her. I entered a sensual state, where all that mattered was that I drive the tension out of the foot in my hand. I really gave it all my focus and effort, and it apparently showed, as I heard Morgan suddenly sigh from above me. “Geee Judy…” I saw her lower body recline backward, resting against the back of her seat. “You’re good at this.”
It shamed me to say, that I blushed with pride. I liked that she thought I was doing a great job. But then I remembered all the recent events of my ruined life, my stolen home, and that I was slaving away at the feet of the woman who’d stolen it, and my shoulders instinctively slouched as a wave of shame and desperation washed over me. I hate my life.
“Hey.” She pulled her foot from between my hands and toke her other foot off my shoulder, before kicking my thigh lightly. “Get from under there, you can eat now.”
With my face red with shame, I crawled from under my dinner table, like a rat out of its hole, then took my seat, without looking at either one of them. I was finally allowed to eat the fucking food I cooked. “Thanks,” I said despite myself.
“You’re welcome,” she said indifferently, before, with her face as casual as ever, she pushed her chair back, then threw her feet on the table, crossing them at the ankle, and started scrolling on her phone.
My furious eyes darted between the soles of her nyloned feet and my plate. Sure, when she was eating, she had me rub her fucking feet, but now that it was little wifey’s time to eat, she was gonna do it with the woman of the house’s feet right in her face, cause fuck wify right.
I took a deep breath before I swallowed my anger and swears, then snatched my fork and knife. I looked at the food as I sliced the first bite of the now cold chicken. I loved cooking, and I loved savoring the taste of what I eat, but instead of eating this delicious meal while it was hot and steamy, I was going to eat it cold and bleak, cause Morgan wanted a foot rub.
I was going to get up and shove this in the microwave, before I decided that it would probably be safer to ask first, just to make sure I wouldn’t grant myself any more humiliations today. “Can I heat this up, please?”
She took her eyes off her phone for a second and looked at my plate, then at me, then shook her head. “It’s good enough. Don’t be choosy wifey.”
FUCK you.
I snatched my fork and knife again and started eating. Mark coughed a fake cough before getting to his feet, putting his plate in the sink then going upstairs. I didn’t know if he was uncomfortable with what was going on or if he just wanted to go, and I didn’t care.
I looked at the plate one last time. The sight wasn’t the least bit appetizing, but I was hungry. The faster I’d eat it the better. Given that I had served myself a small plate, I finished fast, then reclined in my seat. I looked at her silently as she scrolled on her phone and shook her foot on my dinner table.
For a second there I saw my friend. When she wasn’t humiliating me or slapping me or stepping on me, she was back to the woman I once knew, even for just a couple of seconds.
“Desert ready yet,” She said without moving her eyes from her phone.
“I guess.” I stood then crouched beside the oven and opened it. “Yes…it’s ready…I’ll fix you a plate.” I took the plate out, sliced a generous piece, then put it on her plate, then topped it with some vanilla ice cream from the fridge.
I sat the plate beside her feet, only to see her push it with her heel, sliding it to my side of the table. “What?” I said.
“Not that hungry…you eat for now,” she said, her eyes still on her phone.
I chuckled despite myself. “Morgan…I ate enough…come on you know how I am.”
“…come on girl, spoil yourself.” She looked at me with a faint smile. “Eat.”
What was she on about? She knew how my body was, she knew I didn’t eat dessert that was that dense. Why was she caring whether I ate or not all of the sudden? “Morgan I’m good.” I snickered nervously.
She looked up at the ceiling with obvious annoyance, before she slammed her phone on her lap and looked at me with one raised eyebrow like I was the one throwing a fit over nothing. “Eat it…now…or you’ll eat it from the damn floor later.”
Fuck that…this wasn’t of her goddamn business. This was probably a small thing to fret over after everything that happened, but it still fumed me beyond belief. It made no sense. She was going to control what enters my mouth now! “Morgan…I’m full,” I tried to say with a tone full of conviction but it came out all shaky and pathetic. “I don’t want to eat…don’t I have a say in that at least.”
She looked away with a smile, but her eyes betrayed her anger before she swung her feet from the table and stood. She stood in front of me, then, very slowly, took hold of the plate, then angled it sharply down, letting all its content slide then fall, splattering on the ground. I looked down at the cake and ice cream, a mess on my kitchen floor near her feet, with some ice cream staining the toes of her nylons.
My eyes looked upwards and saw her eyes looking down at me with the evilest smirk I’d ever seen her pull. I hated her. If I wasn’t much of a coward, I would’ve probably lunged at her fists swinging, but all I managed to do, was put as much of my harbored hate into my convicting teary eyes, and utter with a shaky voice. “Fuck you Morgan.” I was on the verge of crying. As my teary eyes held a mixture of hate and despair.
She took a deep breath and shook her head snickering, and before I knew it, she took hold of my hair with one hand, and I rushed to my feet to be able to keep up with her as she walked at a fast pace.. I wanted to shout at her to let me go, but all I could do was grab her wrist to lighten her pull on my hair as I whimpered with pain and tried to keep up with her so my hair doesn’t get pulled off.
She dragged me behind her like a lamb to the slaughter, and I didn’t even know where she was dragging me, until I heard a door open, and I felt a wave of cold air hit me, then I was walking on my pavement with trembling legs. I thought she was going to stop, but then, the horrifying realization hit me that she was dragging me out the gate.
I tried to cry out, “Morga—”
She threw me, and I couldn’t balance myself and fell on my hands and knees on the ground. I took an anxious look around and saw that I was thrown on the road. My tearful eyes watched her close the gate, then go back to my house, closing the door behind her without looking back, leaving me on the street with my pajamas and slippers. My hands immediately buried themselves under my armpits as I stood up and made my way to my fucking gate.