Pretty Hurts (Left 1.50)

“Good. But you already know this.”

I shrug. She works part time at a local corner store to keep herself busy and put spending change in her pocket. I check in from time to time with the manager. It’s good to let them know she has someone looking out for her. It keeps them from trying to take advantage. My siblings and I pitch in to pay the bills for the home. It’s the least we can do as hard as she worked to keep us clothed and happy growing up. In the blink of an eye, she’d gone from being a stay-at-home mother to working two or three jobs to make ends meet. We’ll never forget that.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ma,

” I say.

“Mmm hmm. You’ll stay and visit with the others?”

“Yeah, I have time to do that.”

“Good, you work too hard, mijo. You have to take time away from the shop.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

“Oh, this woman she’s been very good for you.”

I laugh. “No. I’ve just gotten the business in a place where I feel safe to take a small step away.”

“Always remember, never get to busy working that you forget to have a life.” I see the pain in her eyes, and I know she’s thinking about my father. He was a kind, compassionate, and giving man, but he worked himself into an early grave providing for us.

I reach across the table, grab her hand, and squeeze. “I promise I won’t, Ma.”

“Then I can ask for nothing more.” She blinks and gives me a smile. “I’ll get the rice started for dinner tonight now.”

I watch her walk to the white cabinets we’ve repainted more times than I can count and smile. We did the best we could with the hand we were dealt, and I think we did well.

Chapter Six

Efia

I run my hand over my head. Today is the day … I’m going out hatless. I landed the job at the Boudoir Photography studio, Pink, a couple of months prior. I love it. Every day is something new, and it’s been amazing for my confidence. I’ve seen women of all walks of life taking time out to celebrate their personal beauty. From women meeting fitness goals to those who had a big birthday like thirty, forty, and even fifty. Being surrounded by the body-positive crew and hearing their stories has helped me continue to work my way through my own self-esteem issues. It’s rare that I keep my head covered when I’m there. Now I’m taking that courage and stepping into the world with it.

“You ready?” Edgar asks, walking up behind me.

“I think so. Did you put the gift in the car?” I ask. Today is Liv and Houston’s gender reveal party.

He kisses my cheek. “I did, darling.”

“Okay, then I’m ready.”

“You look amazing,” he says, running his hands over the sliver of skin bared in my two-piece, white crop top and long, white skirt.

“Thank you, baby.”

He hugs me. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m going to be until the party starts. At least I have the first half of the day to get the jitters out while I help decorate,” I say with a laugh.

He wraps an arm around my waist and guides me outside to the car. It’s amazing what a few months can do. Most days find us together, and I’m close to giving him a key to my place. I’ve never known love like this.

Love? Jesus. I’ve always been a wanderer, too busy chasing dreams and traveling to settle down properly. Now I’m working a local job, and fully committed to the incredible man at my side.

He’s been with me every step of the way with the good days, bad days, and in between. His patience is impressive. Still, it’s a two-way street. I put up with his family’s Spanish Inquisition, the sometimes long hours dealing with his shop, and the times he pulls away. I know his story. The things that went down with Marilyn were just wrong. I can’t imagine coming home to that horror show. We’re both a bit damaged, but healing together. The passion between us is potent, but neither of us has pushed for consummation.

I smile thinking of the surprise I have hidden underneath my outfit. Tonight. I slip inside the passenger seat and roll the window down as I soak up the sunshine and wind blowing in. One plus of not having hair: I don’t have to worry about my hair style getting messed up. I chuckle to myself. Six months ago, I couldn’t have done that.

We park on the street, and I jump out, grabbing the bag out of the backseat.