When it comes to the children of the Real Housewives franchise, many are adored and some are despised, but none are as feared and respected as Milania Giudice of New Jersey. Welcome to Catching Up with Milania, where every week, we—as tribute—will be checking in with my hero, Bravo’s dreaded daughter.
A frigid breeze was blowing through the rooms of Teresa’s Montville Township home, but it wasn’t from the cold winter weather or snow that blanketed the New Jersey landscape.
“I’m with Milania,” Teresa whispered into the phone, hoping that her sister-in-law Melissa would hear the plea in her voice. If she did, Melissa—wisely not wanting to catch the dreaded Milania’s attention (as if Milania didn’t already know what she was thinking or doing at all times anyway)—ignored it.
And so Teresa was stuck like she’d never been stuck before. Even her time in prison didn’t leave her her feeling this trapped—like a scared wild animal backed into a corner. Oh, how she longed for her Danbury cell now. Longed for the canned vegetables the inmates got at lunch, longed for the company of Eileen, her cellmate who had jumped her and took her toothbrush the first night she was there. At least she learned to hit back at Eileen, but Milania...you could no sooner catch her than you could catch fog.
After she hung up the phone, Milania slid a black book across the floor.
“Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?,” she rasped, producing a quill and ink seemingly out of thin air.
With shaking hands, Teresa took the quill and hesitated.
“All you have to do is sign,” hissed the Dreaded Daughter. “Sign and you’ll be free to delight in the pleasures of my dark and violent kingdom—where the sky rains blood and my throne is made of bones. So many rewards await you, dear mother. Just sign.”
Opening the book, Teresa presses the quill to paper, causing sanguine ink to flow from the tip. The urge to give in, to finally be released from Milania’s torment, was tempting—more tempting than salvation, or Juicy Joey, or patching her friendship with Jacqueline. Overcome with desire, she began to spell her name:
“T...e...r...e...s...a...G...i...u...d...i...c...e”
With the curl of the final “e,” the lights flickered and—had the notion not been entirely mad—Teresa would have sworn that the outline of her second-youngest daughter momentarily took the shape of a goat.
As the light returned, Milania—gorgeous, fearsome Milania—stumbled back, bowled over by her power and new acquisition (Teresa’s soul).
“I broke my butt,” she said, smiling, though she didn’t seem to feel pain.