Episode 1 – Rocco

Around town, everybody calls me Rocco, but my maiden name is Rose Rocatelli. My father and grandfather were Roccos, and since I’m the oldest, and there were no boys, I ended up Rocco too.

I have to confess from the get-go that I don’t like men, or boys…they’re pretty much slime. Seeing my mom working her fingers to the bone…while my fat ass father sat around pontificating, smoking shit cigars and drinking homemade Chianti…well, that wasn’t my idea of a future. As I got older, I grew up real nice…slim and pretty, and hotshots tried to sweet talk me 24/7. I ate it up at first, until I learned there aren’t any nice guys out there, none, nada…just sex maniacs trying to get in your pants. My ex, Jake, was the worst. He convinced me he was different, a prince, and my parents swallowed it lock, stock and barrel….couldn’t wait for us to get married, but the minute the ring’s on my finger, it was a fucking nightmare. The bum was never home, and when he did show, I was his private sex machine. We didn’t go out (“Let’s stay in and have a romantic evening”), and he never bought flowers (after the first few months), or did anything…it was “me”, “me”, “me” all the time. I was totally miserable, ate like a pig, and after our third child, wouldn’t let him near me…figured I had to take charge of my own life. One look in the mirror told the story. The slim girl with the raven hair and perfect skin was gone and, in her place was me…a huge fucking ox with shitty skin, but Jake didn’t give two shits. He just took off with another “hostess.” Who was he kidding? They’re greedy whores who’d do anything for a buck.

The fuck’s supposed to be paying child support, but it’s a fight for every penny. He’s a debt collector from the Bernie Madoff school of business…collects a few debts, spreads a little around, then spends the rest on his latest blood sucker (currently a slut named Angie), so I have to work at home, juggling the books for a local insurance agency.

It’d all be worth it, if I only had two beautiful girls, Madge (8) and Byrd (10) to worry about, but there’s also their good-for-nothing older brother. Jake Jr’s thirteen and a carbon copy of his father…an “operator” who’s always working some fucking angle. Lately, he’s started “caddying” at the snob country club….even bought a fake ID so they’d think he was old enough (14), but he can’t fool me. The little fuck’s learned to play cards…and I’m sure sits in the caddy yard trying to hustle unsuspecting kids. He’s a lazy piece of shit. Pisses away his money on trinkets for the girls to turn them against me.

Today was typical. The girls start day camp next week and I’d forgotten some things on the list. Jake wanted to caddy, but I told him I needed help shopping, so he immediately starts mouthing off, telling me there’s a tournament, and he can make extra money. “Bullshit!” I tell him. “You’re a fucking liar! What is it a poker tournament?”

“What?” He asks like some babe in the woods. “What poker tournament? It’s a golf tournament.”

“Right!” I laugh. He’s like an open book!

Immediately, because he has to help, he’s in a crabby-ass mood, mumbling and grumbling…and to top it off, wears this black hoodie his father bought with “JAKE” in big letters on the back….makes me see red every time he wears the fucking rag…and he knows it, so I haul off and whack him, and he clams up and gets surly…won’t even look at me.

At the store, his lordship lowers himself to push the shopping cart, which makes the girls happy, since they hang on the sides and have a ball…it does my heart good to see them happy. Of course, Jake goes too fast and I panic, thinking they’ll tip over…lose my shit again… so he slows down. I stop to look at towels, and he keeps going…has his back to me and the girls start shrieking like a son of a bitch. I know him. He’s pinching them, or tormenting them somehow.

“Hey!” I yell. “Keep your hands to yourself!”

He stops dead and turns to me all indignant…people are staring, so he plays it up big, just to make me look like shit…holds his palms in the air. “What’d I do?” Acts like there’s a halo over his head.

“What happened?” I ask the girls…they just giggle and cover for him. Their loyalty touches my heart.

I wag my finger at Jake. “You don’t fool me, mister!”

“M-o-m! Nothing happened,” he whines. Other customers stare like I’m the evil witch. people are always sympathizing with him because he’s cute, thirteen going on twenty, with a mop of black hair, zit-free complexion, and the features of a mischievous imp.

He walks back to the cart…I whack him with my bag, “you watch yourself!”

He whines again. “M-o-m, stop it!”

I can’t help imitating him…really exaggerated, “M-o-m, stop it!”

He gives me an angry look. “This is so fucked,” he mumbles. “I’m missing a whole day of caddying.”

“Watch your foul mouth, mister!” I warn him. “It’s not a sin to consider somebody else for a change.”

“We like it when you come,” Byrd chimes in and Madge agrees.

“See,” I say, “you’re doing a nice thing for your sisters.”

He starts pushing fast again and I can’t help screaming. “Jesus, they’re little girls. Are you fucking crazy. Be careful!”

We finally finish and I’m very relieved…got the girls really sweet things….one less worry. Jake has no appreciation for what I go through. Last minute, he tries to weasel out a pair of disgusting skinny jeans…just to get something for nothing, like his father. “Buy ’em yourself, Moneybags,” I tell him.

All the way home, the girls and I talk about camp and what they like best. Byrd swims like a fish, like her father before his beer belly. I’m determined to talk to her counselors, see if I can get some real coaching instead of wasting money on every sport in the world, like we did with Jake. His father thought he’d be the next Derek Jeter. Give me a fucking break!

Mr. Caddyshack doesn’t say a word all the way home, then jumps on his bike and takes off.

To be continued… Read next episode.