From the Other Side of My Bed

26. Black Beauty

The first time I realized I was a great beauty was when I stepped out of Dad's car and into the street which a variety of people stopped what they were doing just to stare at me. We had parked in a private garage that was close to my uncle's hospital/house and when we started walking toward the hospital, I noticed people, mostly men, stare at me in awe. And naively, I enjoyed it.
I was never considered by my family as beautiful, just annoying and fat.
But back then I wasn't fat.
I was about 120lbs, short, with an hourglass body. My bouncy, long jet-black hair danced past my waist and touched my butt. Socorro used to say I was a doll.
And other men said I was a black beauty.

When my uncle, aunt and two cousins saw me, they were flabbergasted.
They expected that blonde, chubby kid I was, and not the dark, ready to kill teenager I became.
They didn't say anything but "wow" and then proceeded to invite us out to eat. So, we went as a group to the known street called "La sexta".
I believe it was Saturday because everyone and their mothers were out and about. The crowds might sound overwhelming to you but that is what gives "sazon" to life. And when we struggled to move past the people, there was a moment when I had lost track of my stepmom who stopped holding my hand, but I kept walking to pick up the pace. But my high booted timberlands could only take me so far. I had worn this outfit of jeans and lacey black blouse which fitted me small which show a bit of my hip bones.
Anyways in that moment when my stepmom let go of my hand, I was grabbed by the elbow and pulled back by a man. I turned back and was met by a large camera and a light ring which blinded me when my eyes focused on it. They were asking me questions and talking so fast, all in Spanish and I was just overwhelmed by it. I looked around desperately for my stepmom.
"Senorita! Senorita! Mire aqui! Mire aqui!" They kept saying for me to look.
"Senorita! Senorita! Diganos su nombre!" They inquired about my name.
And in that moment when they focused the camera again on me, I said:
"Me-no-speaky-spanolo!"
"We do! We do! Talk to us!" and I laughed. I was so flabbergasted by the attention but then I saw my dad coming angrily toward me. He grabbed my hand and pulled me away from them. My family was laughing about the encounter, saying how well I was able to manage those reporters. And then I inquired about them. My aunt brushed it off as youtubers.

-

We were given rooms on the first floor of the hospital/house of my uncle. You'll ask how come it was a house and hospital at the same time. You see, the second floor was a house, and the first floor was a small hospital with beds for the sickly.
Now our rooms were almost close to the sickly, but it wasn't like he had patients with viral illnesses, most of them were dying of cancer or a car crash.
I didn't have any privacy during this time because our rooms were connected, and my dad and Socorro would just walk into my side easily. We even had hospital-like beds which often made me more depressed about my situation because well, bro it's sad. But I never said anything to my dad. I just hoped to die in a way that never existed, like just passing in my sleep but it never happened.
Both are my witnesses about how I slept every night hugging the picture framed of Nik and I. It gave me solace, relief to go to sleep thinking of us dancing on homecoming night. But it also broke my heart, and I would later develop insomnia and dad would have to give me sleep aid every other night.
It wasn't all bad, after all it gave us more homeliness and togetherness like we would all watch tv together in my room because the only tv we had was there and we would buy pan dulce and drink coffee and they would watch me fall asleep and it was a happy period of time.
Sometimes I miss it but if I could go back, I would have stopped myself from going to that party that ruined my life.

-
The following days after we had arrived, I was taken to multiple health centers where they ran tests on me, which I never knew what they were about. The only one I knew about because I had to pee in a cup was pregnancy.
And even then, I don't remember ever being told if I was or was, you know, pregnant.
I just saw after a few days my dad becoming calmer and more docile.
Before he wouldn't even look at my face.
You see, I never became pregnant, or had a disease, I was just left damaged.
A damaged good.
That's what the therapist my dad made me go to for a few days told him and Socorro. I remember her office's door a bit opened, and I eavesdropped on how she said it was such a shame because I was really pretty.
"A damaged good, I'm afraid," she said, giving him a folder full of notes she made about me, recounting everything I told her, and I don't know if I felt more violated then. I just turned myself into a ball the whole ride home in the backseat of his car.
"Do you think I'm a lost cause, senora?"
"Ay mi nina, don't worry about those things." Socorro said in Spanish. "Like your dad said, you always have to question the doctors, never just believe in one's diagnose."
But she never answered my question, which made it more painful.
And for the first time, my dad never seek additional diagnoses for what I had.
He just accepted I was a damaged good.
My own dad, everyone.
My own dad...

-
My uncle had a rooftop that was out of this world.
It was on some third world shit, but I loved how urban it was. You could watch the sunsets and the other flat-like rooftops, and it was nearby La Sexta so you could see a bit of the colorfulness and pomp from all the way there.
They had put up ropes in the corners and hung bed sheets and other clothes to dry there and I often put on music and danced with the wind. The bedsheets caressing my body and hugging me. Most of the time I came up there to cry. To ask God why he did the things he did or more like he allowed to happen.
I was only 14 years old; I didn't understand this world.
There were some nights I would scream to the skies, asking him to just take me out of my pain. I would just let my whole soul out and not cared if I woke someone up and just cried for hours. Later when I became sneakier, I would bring small shooters of tequila or vodka and drink them while I watched the sunsets. It made me feel better to see all the shades of the sun splattered in the skies than to be with my family downstairs who made me feel empty.

-
The first time I became the monster my dad was when I stood up to him and screamed on his face how much I hated him.
I don't remember what had happened, or what triggered it, I just remember him drinking in our rooms while watching tv and my stepmom on her phone. It had bugged me that he was talking shit and being corny about it, acting as if he was just a victim of the circumstances, we were in. It had boiled my blood to know how he really felt like.
And mind you, I had never screamed or raised my voice at this man.
I have always been docile, quiet, and just everything I wasn't anymore.
That girl was dead, done and gone.
And he just kept asking where it all went wrong, and I just exploded into rage. It blinded me with bloody red rage which could drown anyone nearby. I got to his face and screamed at him about how I really felt about him, of my disappointment in him, how he ruined his figure to protect the figure of another monster and that I hated him.
And gosh, I hated him then.
I still hate the person who he was then.
He changed but I was only 14 years old.
He needed to be different, but he became predictable.

Then my uncle butt in our rooms and tried to give me this peptalk about how daughters never raised their voice to their fathers.
"Ladies do not curse, either."
"Then fuck off."

-
It looked just like the night we left behind.
When I walk in, I see what the after of the party was we had at the cafeteria. There was a lot of confetti, silver, and blue balloons all over the floor, jumping side to side as you made your way through, and a few lights were on still. There wasn't any gleamer, pomp and glitter anymore being scattered around as we all danced, it was now just on the floor and the place was empty.
It gives me a sense of nostalgia being here, as I actually think I am back in time and not in a dream.
When I wrote this dream down, I saw my rushed handwriting mixed with time that has passed, but I emphasize with doble lines under the sentence that I was still wearing my sparking blue dress with rhinestones around my waist. I'm still wearing the silver high heels too, the ones that made me dance in the air like a ballerina when I was with Nik.
I walk around and just find myself staring at the podium where they announce the king and queen of the night. But that's not where I cared about being the most, I cared to be by the right side of it, a bit far off because that's where we danced our song. Even in my head it's playing, and I just sighed.
"I guess we arrived too late."
I turn around, perplexed.
"Not quite." I whisper.
Nik.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.

I want to run to him, but I miss talking to him more, to hear him talk and the way he did was music to my ears. "it's a shame it looks all ran down, but I guess that's what it became. it's been a long time since- "
"We left it all behind."
He smiles pleasantly, a few steps away from me. He looks like he's been on his suit forever, the sleeves are rolled up the elbows.
"You, in the other hand, look beautiful." He kept taking steps toward me as he spoke. "But your hair isn't blonde anymore."
"I thought you liked it black."
"I do, it always brought out more of you."
"Such as?"
"Happiness, a sense of confidence."
"I wish I was as confident as before."
Soon after he was in front of me, just staring at me lovingly and towering over me as usual. From here I could still smell his cologne. And that nostalgia made me burst into tears. He quickly cups my face on his hands and made me face him.
"it's okay, sweetheart. It's quite okay." He said, stamping kisses all over my face. "Remember, this is still our night. Don't you want to dance?"
"I'm afraid the magic has been snuffed away from me."
"Nonsense. Take my hand,' he lets go of my face and soon I feel painful withdrawals from his touch. I want him to keep holding me, I feel I would fall apart without him as I had been all this time, I haven't had him around. I quickly took his hand, and he guided us toward the middle of the cafeteria. His other hand grabs me by the waist and then we start to slowly dance as the balloons jump from side to side and some confetti rises from the bottom, sparkling. But I am focusing on his eyes, that never let go of my glaze. Our pace soon becomes more elaborate, quicker, and funnier as he then lets go of my hand, and grans me by the waist and lifts me up in the air as he twirls us. We fill the whole place with our laughter and then I almost think everything had become with life. The colors become more vibrant, the confetti sparkles, and the lights turn on, making It seem like what was missing was us to restore everything as how it used to. When he puts me on the floor, we take larger steps and we waltz around the whole thing, and it's fun, I don't remember anything as exciting in my life as being with him.
But then again, that was all in my head, because soon when we hear our son playing and he is singing it to me, and I try to go for a kiss.... I woke up.
I'm sweating, I'm crying and start to reach my notebook which falls on the floor and I try leaning down to get it and it the process I fall off bed but don't care.
I write,
"Please lord, let me keep this memory, just this one please."

-
During this time, I started expressing myself through heavy eye makeup, fake lashes, and cherry red lipstick. I began straightening my long, luscious black hair which made it fall past my butt and I began wearing more black, swanky outfits. One of them was a short leather skirt, long sleeve tight blouse, and black combat boots.
Ask anyone from my country about my description, and they'll tell you this.
Pale, long black hair, athletic legs, petite yet voluptuous body.
Why am I sexualizing myself?
Because that is what I have always been targeted for.
I was an eye candy to anyone.
All the girls, all the boys, they all wanted to me or be me. And that's on facts, not some narcissistic shit.
To be beautiful and thin is a drug that I couldn't get enough of.
Like bro I would walk three times a day up and down La Sexta because of how much attention I attracted. All men from the shops would give me merchandise for free, even asked me to do photoshoots of their brands and swore to put me on their displays. I wish I could of have accepted. Many gave me flowers and bought me food. Now the big dogs (lawyers and engineers) would ask me on dates to Saul or Berna, known cafes and restaurants such as Trefelli and I would go with them, one even gave me a gold necklace with his initials on it. It was surreal how they all wanted to know me. And I would lie, say I was 18 but I was only 14.
It was so fun; I must be honest because what the fuck.
Be given the chances I got; you'll take them if you were as naïve as me.
That's why I say I wasn't smart; I was a baby.
One of my witnesses of these chances with men was Socorro.
She was in awe of the attention I attracted back then.
It was like I was a rare ruby among all jewels.
There were pretty girls, but I was...., it.
Unreachable, desirable, most wanted.

-

Mother's Day happened.

It was the heaviest day on Earth, and I could barely breathe, I remember.
And sadly, it wasn't because my mom was, you know, dead.
But because my dad went to celebrate, without us (Socorro and I, his legitimized daughter) Mother's Day. I had woken up and gone to the nurse's station after looking for my dad and then my uncle upstairs. No one was home bro.
And when the nurse confirmed that THEY ALL FUCKING WENT WITHOUT US, WITH ME, OH I WAS FUCKING FUMING.
NAH BRO I HAD BEEN WAY TOO COOL IN THESE CHAPTERS TO JUST 'TALK' LIKE IT ALL DIDN'T JUST WRECKED MY WHOLE WORLD AND SHIT. NAH, I'M STILL ANGRY AND FUCK MY FAMILY AND SPECIALLY FUCK YOU DAD FOR LEAVING US ON THAT HEAVY DAY. I'LL START A WHOLE RIOT IF I WANT TO.
AND I DID, DEAR READER.
I WAS ENRAGED AND I WAS BURNING AND SOCORRO JUST LAID THERE ON THE BED SAD. It broke my heart to see her sad but still smiling at me as if it was fine.
IT WASN'T FINE AT ALL.
I WANTED JUSTICE, I WANTED BLOOD DRAWN OUT, I WANTED MURDER BECAUSE FUCK HIM FOR LEAVING US TO GO CELEBRATE MOTHER'S DAY WITHOUT THINKING OF HIS NEW SPOUSE AND ME, HIS ALMOST ORPHAN DAUGHTER. LIKE THE AUDACITY OF THIS MAN.
"Ay mija, it's okay. We can go celebrate it with or without him. Go get dressed and let's get out of here."
SHIT, WE WAS OFF THAT MOTHERFUCKER REAL QUICK.
I DON'T REMEMBER MUCH OF WHAT WE DID, BUT I REMEMBER I PROMISED TO FINISH MY ICE CREAM CALMLY BEFORE LITTING SHIT ON FIRE ONCE WE WERE BACK HOME.
AND I DID, I WAS CALM, I ATE MY ICE CREAM REAL CUTE AND THEN CAUSE HELL ON EARTH.
I BEGAN GOING OFF ON HIM, I BEGAN SWEARING AND SPITTING AT HIM. I ONLY SAW RED AND HE KEPT PUTTING HIS HANDS IN BETWEEN US SO I WOULDN'T HURT HIM AND GOD I WISH I HAD. I WAS SO ANGRY AND I'M STILL AGRY.
"WHAT ABOUT MOM!? WHAT ABOUT MY DEAD MOM!? CAN YOU STILL REMEMBER HER NAME!? FUCKING TELL ME!" I SCREAMED OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND HELD BACK TEARS BECAUSE I cannot lie, he is my dad and broke me to be transformed into a raging monster in his eyes.

AND THEN MY FUCKING UNCLE COMES AND BUTTS IN?
NAH DUDE, IT WAS ALL BAD.
"I don't see what the issue is in here for you to be acting like a mad woman in my house!"
"Because I am a mad woman in your house, fuck you talking about!? mingle fucking somewhere else, Tio. You don't belong in this fight."
"This is my house and- "
"Fuck your house, broooooo!"
"And this is my brother! I will not stand for this!"
"Then step aside before I go over you, too." I stood before him.
He looked at me in disbelief and walked away, screaming that this wasn't a mad house and wanted this to stop right away.