Dear Diary,
It was a black day today. Our troubles began when I took Michael to the penthouse. Mrs. Corinthos was there when we walked in. "What's wrong, Mommy?" said Michael, seeing the look on my face. "Why do you look so sad?" Then he spotted the scary lady.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she snarled. I explained to her that Mr Corinthos had told me to bring Michael around, but she snapped that he wasn't going to be there that night. Pity. He mumbles a lot but he keeps Mrs. Corinthos away from my son and I. For that I will always be grateful.
When I realized that she intended to come with us, I could barely hide my dismay. She even tried to ingratiate herself with poor Michael! "Come on," she said, "let's go to your favorite restaurant, wherever that is." I had to say a quiet prayer to Our Lady of Driving Away Termagents to prevent myself from asking her who the hell she thinks she is. Thanks to Our Lady, I managed to restrain myself to a sour "I don't know about you but I'm starving."
Michael and I snuck out the door and tried to make a break for it. But when the elevators arrived poor Michael was so excited, he shouted "Hurry, Mommy! The elevator's here!" Mrs. Corinthos heard us and managed to catch up before we could get away.
Explaining the redecorated state of the bedroom, and my clothes in the closet, was a little easier. "Don't you remember?" I told Mrs. Corinthos, "You did all this. You thought that a more matronly look would turn Mr. Corinthos on." She seemed puzzled, but I redirected her attention to the shiny objects on the dresser and she forgot all about it.
My poor, poor Michael. I found him hiding in his closet. "It was awful, Mommy. She was in your bed, wearing your pajamas! She made me hug her! And tell her I loved her! And call her Mommy Dearest!" At this he broke down into sobs.
He's finally managed to fall asleep. He'll stay with me in "my" bed -- the cot in the back room so generously provided for me -- as long as Mrs. Corinthos is here. Until then all I can do is protect my son from her as best I can. I wonder if there are summer camps for children Michael's age? Away from Port Charles would be the best place for him now.