— You’re not what? — her neighbor pushed mockingly, planting her hands on her thick hips and squinting slowly. — Not a woman, huh? Men look at you like they’re about to bite their tongues off. You’ve got what I don’t have anymore. Look at yourself. A knockout, ass in tight shorts, tits bouncing out of that little top of yours… The only thing left for you is to find a man before you get old. With a body like yours, I’d…
Lucia let out an angry breath, cutting her own tirade short. Deep down she knew she’d gone a bit too far, but she truly worried about this stupid, naïve girl. She had met her here in Mexico, in the barrio of Santa Inez on the edge of Monterrey. In that dusty district packed with makeshift houses and rusty stalls, where teenagers crowded around beer stands in the evenings and in the mornings old women set out tables with tacos right on the sidewalk. That was where Lucia first saw Elena: standing at a bus stop with a single plastic bag in her hand, looking like she’d just fallen out of another world.
That was why now, as Elena stood in front of her with a rag in her hands and her brows furrowed, Lucia felt torn in half. On one hand, she felt envy, sharp and too strong: this girl, with her firm body and doll-like face, could have everything that Lucia herself would never again have. On the other, there was anger, but not at her — at the world around them: she remembered seeing Elena lost and confused, looking around nervously until some guy got too pushy, offering her “work.” Lucia had stepped in, loud and foul-mouthed, shoving the bastard away and dragging the girl to her own place in the block.
Since then, Lucia believed she was the one who had pulled Elena off the roadside. “Without me you’d already be out there on Calle del Sol, spreading your legs for pennies,” she liked to repeat when she got drunk.
Lucia exhaled noisily, holding back another wave of words, and, staring at Elena, muttered:
— Fine. Sorry for what I said about the cat, — she shot a glance toward the spilled milk that Robert was licking up and gave a short snort, as if surprised at her own words. — It’s just… sometimes you piss me off, Lena. Goddamn it.
Elena silently squeezed the rag. The damp fabric clung to her fingers, and she felt her nails dig into her palm. 'I piss her off… but does she even know how every one of her words tears me inside out?' — flashed through her head.
Lucia took a breath, ran her hand through her hair, and added more softly, almost as if justifying herself:
— I’m not your enemy. You live under my roof, and I take care of you. In my own way.
Elena lifted her eyes. Something sharp flickered there, but it faded almost at once. Instead of answering, she dropped back to her knees, picking up the remains of the milk. Strands of hair fell forward again, her breasts swayed, the tank top tugged uncomfortably at her shoulders. She felt Lucia’s gaze on her — dragging, heavy, almost appraising.
— See? — the neighbor suddenly said quietly. — Even when you’re just kneeling there with a rag, you look like the kind of woman any guy would bug his eyes out for. And you’re running from it.
Elena froze. Her heart stabbed painfully in her chest.
— Maybe I don’t want to be looked at, — she said dully.
Lucia shrugged.
— In Santa Inez there’s no choice, mija. Either you use what you’ve got, or others use you. That’s how it is.
She turned and walked toward her room. As a parting shot she threw:
— Think about it.
The door slammed, and Elena was left alone. In the kitchen there was only the sound of Robert slurping and her own breathing. She sat on her knees among the white streaks of milk and felt anger rising inside her, so strong her fingers trembled.
She glanced at the dim window. It reflected a face that looked like the one she once had, yet even she herself wouldn’t recognize in that girl with reddened eyes, in shorts digging into her thighs, who she used to be. What looked back at her was a girl she didn’t want to be.
Elena clenched her teeth and whispered with her lips alone:
— You are Elena Moreno… Dios Mio… Just accept it already…
Robert meowed softly, as if agreeing.
And behind the door came the sound of a man’s laughter and heavy footsteps — Santiago was coming back to the block.