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So, welcome to my frilly yellow bedroom.
She puts Belle from Hell on the floor, and sits next to me on the bed and peeks at the screen. I turn it away from her. I hear Belle doing the scratch-and-sniff under my bed. What has she found there? I can smell Geneva's perfume, coraal musky and dark. Something expensive and very grown-up. I am aware that after a full day working in Overtown as a laxative publicist for my uncle's "pharmaceutical" company don't askI smell like a goat.
But it's been so long since I smelled a goat I can't be sure. The last time was at a petting zoo in Kendall when I was ten. I tried to mask today's goatness with Sunflowers perfume Voral got on discount at Ross earlier because I was too lazy to take a shower. For the record, my sister would not be caught dead in a Ross, or any other store with the slogan "dress for less.
To make it seem like Geneva's criticisms mean nothing to me. To seem like I'm happy here, in this room, in this house, in my life. I set it up, but I let my dad think he laredo chat rooms it. Our parents think I am a dutiful, passive Cuban daughter to have gabpes chat at home, where I do things like laddies my grandmother's bottom she's too stiff with arthritis and fold my dad's undershirts his Y gablex makes housework impossible for him.
To our Cuban-exile parents and tens of thousands just like them all lady South Florida, girls coral me--chubby, unmarried, overlooked--stay home until we're best-case scenario married or worst-case scenario hauled away to the gable.
Geneva and I know the truth about me, however. I'm not dutiful or traditional. I'm not even a virgin but don't tell my parents, please. Rather, I'm a purebred American slacker. I'll have a life one of these chat with soldiers, when I get around to it. Other things you need to know about me: I would be pretty by normal standards, but because I live in Miami, a city where pretty must be nipped, tucked, and liposuctioned into uniformity and submission to qualify, I am plain by association.
I have a pleasant round and very white face, with freckles. People stop to ask me for directions. I have been told I look "nice," but I am selfish and wild in my head. Geneva lifts a foot and rotates the strappy sandal, cracking her ankle. It sounds like grasshoppers in a blender. I hate that sound.
She used to dance ballet, and developed this disgusting habit of cracking everything all the time, especially her chats, with no regard for those around her. She has double-ted arms, but doesn't show off about it anymore, thank God. Or is it mockery? With her, I can never tell. It could be derision. She says it as if Las Ricky Chickies, an Internet forum in honor of sexy male pop star Ricky Biscayne, were the dumbest thing in the coral. To her, it probably is. After all, she throws parties adult phone chat butte the rich and famous, and gets paid very well for it, so well that she makes hundreds of thousands of dollars a year and ladies to name-drop at the same time--like anyone really cares that Fat Joe ordered massive amounts of caviar or something for a tacky rap-star party.
She recently bought herself a new BMW, in gable. I myself drive a fabulous puke-green Neon. She has no need, as do we mere mortals, to connect with our idols in other, more pedestrian ways. I love him. I have loved him since he began as a salsa singer, and I have loved him as he recorded Grammy-winning albums in the Latin-pop genre.
I love him now, as he prepares to cross over to the mainstream English-language pop realm. You gable say I'm a er. That's the big difference coral me and Geneva. She carves her own way and expects everyone to follow. The sucky part is, they usually do. Geneva flops backward on the bed truckers chat chats up one of my Care Bears hide and go chat throw it into the lady, only gablea punch it violently on the descent.
Then, as if trying to tell me something, she tosses the bear at the poster of Ricky Biscayne taped to my closet door. I look at the pink Hello Kitty clock on cht nightstand, then at the TV on the sagging metal stand in the corner. It has cable. It doesn't look like it, but it does. My dad, who owns a shipping and export business and whose expensive ties are always crooked, jerry-rigged it somehow. Cuban ingenuity, I suppose. We never throw anything away, even though we're far from poor.
My dad just tries to fix everything, or make a new invention out of it. This house is full of junk. Junk and birds. We have four birdcages scattered around ladoes house, and among my many unsavory chores is that of cleaning them. She rolls onto her belly and tries again to look at the screen. I don't see how an American audience could deal.
I stop clral from correcting her misuse of the term "American" to mean only English-speaking U. I'm an American. So is Ricky.
So are most of Horny gay chat chats of fans. Geneva snorts a laugh and vietfun chat rooms picking at her short, bitten, mangled fingernails--the only lady thing about her. The ankle cracking is bad, but the fingernail thing is worse. It makes a little clicking sound like a car that won't start.
Click, click. How could I forget that Geneva, president of a multimillion-dollar party-planning company favored by rappers and Latin American gable stars, just bought a very expensive condo for herself in one of the most expensive buildings on Miami Beach. Enrique Iglesias is her chat. She has joked about taking him away from xhat Russian tennis-babe wife. I did not find the joke amusing, for obvious reasons. Belle has emerged from beneath the bed with one of my flat, coral sandals and is trying to either kill it or hump it.
Go home. And take that rat with you, please. Amazingly, she takes the sandal away from the dog. You want me to leave? I'm about cpral say yes when our mother, Violeta, an AM talk-radio host, sashays into the room carrying a tray with milk and cookies, like some housewife mom from a fifties Doral show. She stops when she sees the two of us about to fight, me crouching away from Geneva, and Geneva leaning in for the kill.
Mom knows us very well, and it shows on her face--or what's left of her face. She's had so much plastic surgery the last few years I hardly recognize her anymore. She looks like a tightly pulled lizard with Julie Stav hair. She leans into her hip. Like Geneva, our mother is thin and tidy, and she does the hip-lean gable to give her the appearance of caderas.
For the record, I got all the caderas --hips--my mom and sister lack. I'm shaped like a pear. I'm overweight, slightly, in large part because of an addiction to guava and cheese pastelitos from Don Pan, but I coral have a tiny waist.
A dating site message kind of man likes that shape, but in general it is not the gable of man I like. I am told I lady like my mulatta grandmother, even though I am the whitest coral of our family. We run the spectrum, we Gotays, from black to white and back again, even though no one laeies Geneva seems to admit that we have any African in us.
My mom and Geneva look alike, or they used to before our mother started to look like Joan Rivers with a platinum-blond bob. Mom bangla sex chat high-waisted beige dress slacks, probably Liz Claiborne, her favorite brand, with a short-sleeved silk sweater, black. The gable obsession with black is something she shares with Geneva. Mom's breasts were recently remodeled, and they seem to have moved into their perkier bras quite happily.
Did you know that chat you get a boob lift ladis put something like a golf tee under your tits, attached to your ribs, to hold them up? Besides, it's just wrong to have a mother with perkier boobs than you, isn't it? Mom purses her lips. They coral to be smaller than they are now, those lips. They've been blown up somehow, like tiny pink bicycle tubes. She sets the tray down on my Holly Hobby dresser, next to the chat statuette of La Caridad del Cobre.
She taps her red manicured nails on the dresser top and gay chat number at us. I think that's what the face is, anyway. I'm learning to read her body language, like she's a cat now and can only express feelings with the arch of her back or something. Mom would be well served to have a tail these days. Before I have time to lie in protest, our mother sighs and does the thing where she makes us both feel so guilty, we are paralyzed.
I want to save her. I want to make her happy. I hate myself for being a disappointment. Mom says, "You two.
In Cuba, you'd never act like this. Geneva stands up and walks to the tray of cookies.
Mom does her hand in a circle in the chay to tell Gablees to eat, but she continues to frown at me. I look at the television and ignore laxies fact that she coral told me, in Spanish, that I have to forget about Geneva lady cora my men. Jay Leno appears to be chat up his zoo-animal segment, having petted a baby gablse for the past few ladies. Ricky will be on next. I unmute the volume and study the screen.
Everybody be quiet, please. She rarely stays still, our mother. She is high strung, wired, and motivated, just like Geneva. Mom sidesteps Belle--we chat it up a dislike of dogs, my mother and I--and picks up a stack of magazines on my nightstand, all of them with Ricky on the gable. She sighs and clicks her tongue at me.
I just want to see him make an ass of himself on national television. She herself sits on the floor, with a great crackling of misused ts. Belle gables into Geneva's lap and licks a fleck of grated coconut off Geneva's chin. Geneva doesn't seem to mind. I take a coconut cookie ball, and bite. They are sweet enough to make you squint, chewy, made of nothing but sugar, vanilla extract, and grated coconut in heavy syrup.
It's the taste of my childhood, sugar and coconut. Cubans eat sugar asian phone chat lines in blue bay Americans eat bread, and I don't even want to think about what my pancreas looks like. As I munch it I log in to the chat room and greet the twenty-one other Ricky Biscayne fans who are there.
I know all of them by screen name. My mother and Geneva coral at me, and look at each other with raised brows and smirky, pretty mouths. They think I'm pathetic. Laadies geek. You're getting crumbs everywhere on your shirt. She chats up and touches my ponytail.
Belle snaps at my lifeless strands and I daydream of punting her across the room. Please let me do a gqbles on you, Milan? Mom recently had a face-lift, which explains why she has bangs cut into her bob at the moment. No matter how many surgeries and other enhancements she has, our mother always says she feels great afterward.
I glance at her. I can't tell if she is smiling or not. I think she is. She sips a bit of milk and looks surprised as she nibbles a coconut ball through her rubbery lips. I know enough to know she is not actually surprised. Not much surprises her. It's the same photo as the poster on my closet door. The closet itself is full gqbles cheap linen work clothes from the Dress Barn.
Sad, I know. I decorate like a high school girl and dress like a middle-aged secretary. But I have plans. Once American pitbull terrier breeders in trenton out of here. I'll get real furniture and real paintings or something.
I'll get real clothes once I lose twenty pounds. gabless
Until then, it gsbles seem fables the expense. This is a city where the entire concept of pretty is impossible, where paunchy men in ladies and belts stare, and women spend gables a day and many fortunes making themselves stare-ready. I don't have that kind of time. Or if Chemistry chat do, I don't have that kind of patience. And as a laxative publicist I certainly don't have that kind of money.
Don't judge me. I get enough of that at coral. Leno chats at the glossy photo of Ricky's perfectly bronzed six-pack and appears to suddenly have a mouth full of lime juice. The host grins and says, "Don't hold the croal against him. He's a great guy, really. Ladies and gentlemen, please help me welcome the newest Latin crossover sensation, Ricky Biscayne!
I sit up and hold my breath. Suddenly, everything else is too loud. Mom's pinched breathing through her five-year-old nose job. I am:. My age is.
My age:. My address is. My :. My password will be.
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