They all look at me worriedly. One of them places her hand on my forehead to check if I have a fever.
I give up trying to explain what I am looking for. I need the Turtle. Or anyone who speaks English.
"Do you know where the Turtle is?" All of them look at me with blank faces. I groan in frustration.
I make an L shape with my hand on my forehead. "The loser I married?" I gesture to the ring on my finger.
Realization finally dawns on their faces. But then I wish it hadn't, because they point right behind me.
And guess who is standing there when I turn around? Yeah, the Turtle, in all his glory. Next to him is a living Barbie. It seems like his father and he have the same taste. Yuck.
"How much of my great communication skills did you witness?" I ask, feeling the embarrassment set in.
"Everything." The embarrassment hits hard, but I play it off — or at least I try to. "Great, now the stage is yours." I applaud, and he frowns.
"You told me she was crazy, but that exceeded my expectations," his Barbie says with a frown as I step aside. "Anyway, what is she doing now?"
"I am handing you the stage for your walk of shame," I reply, scrunching my nose.
"We live in modern times, darling. Sex between couples is normal." She wraps her arms around his arm like a snake.
"Very educational," I say with a nod and a smile. "Still, sleeping with a married man makes you a bitch."
"Did you hear what she called me?" she gasps, offended. "Is she for real?"
"Yeah, very real, compared to your fake boobs," I say, nodding my head. This went from embarrassing to entertaining very quickly, and I love it.
"Behave yourself," the Turtle warns me, annoyed, while rubbing his temples. For someone who got pussy last night, he is acting all uptight. Must have been bad sex.
"Says the one who cheated on me on my wedding night!" I exclaim dramatically, faking a sadness that could win me an Oscar.
"She's not only crazy but also slow-witted, I see," the Barbie says, looking at me with a hint of sympathy. "Darling, this marriage isn't real, it's only on paper." Did that bitch just call me dumb? "Now, stop embarrassing yourself."
"I am not going to fight over the Turtle. I am not going to fight over the Turtle. I am not going to fight over the Turtle," I repeat, trying to calm myself down.
"Turtle? There is no Turtle." She frowns, looking around. Then she looks back at the Turtle. "Donny-dovey-lovey, I thought she wasn't delusional? Now she's imagining a Turtle..."
I cringe. Hard. Now he doesn't like being called a Turtle, but Donny-dovey-lovey is fine? Seriously?
"Yeah, Donny-dovey-lovey," I chirp in a high-pitched voice, "why don't you tell the bitch how crazy I really am, that I will rip out her fake extensions if she doesn't stop looking at me like I am the bimbo here?"
"Does she really attack? Is she detrimental?" she asks with her lips pursed. "Guess what, I bite," I tell her, sweeping my tongue over my upper teeth.
"Yes. No. Enough." The Turtle groans in annoyance. Then he looks at me. "Giselda is here for help and support. You will not harm her."
Crossing my arms, I frown. "What help? All she has given me since I met Drizella is a headache."
"She is here to babysit," he clarifies. I can't help but laugh. "Babysit who?" I ask mockingly. My eyes go downcast. "Your dick?"