Free Tarnished Beauty by Cecilia Samartin Page B

that moment she knew that if she allowed herself a moment of weakness, she’d collapse to the floor in a puddle of tears. “This will do just fine, Tía,” she said brightly. “I’ll clean it all up in the morning, but tonight, if it’s okay with you, I’ll sleep on the couch.”
    Carmen stared at her niece. “For an instant there, you reminded me so much of your mother,” she said, uncharacteristically wistful. Then she shrugged, kicked off her shoes, and waddled back down the hall on bare feet that were as thick and square as waffles. She flicked on the lights in the bathroom, in the center of which stood an enormous claw-foot tub, before waddling back toward the living room. Staring at her niece for some time, she folded her arms like a giant pretzel. “Okay, we need to get some things straight if this is going to work out,” she said. “You were still little when I left, so you probably don’t remember the only surefire way to piss me off.”
    Jamilet shifted on her sore feet, and shook her head.
    Carmen considered her niece with a wary eye, looking her up and down. “You can call me a fat bitch and it won’t piss me off. You can say I’m the biggest slob north of the South Pole and it won’t piss me off either. You know why?” Her mouth twitched into a near smile, and then she was dead serious once again.
    â€œWhy, Tía?”
    â€œBecause it’s the truth, that’s why. But if you tell me I’m the cutest thing on two legs, I’ll be pissed as hell.”
    Jamilet met her aunt’s fierce gaze, and fought the temptation to return a smile. She remembered that sometimes her aunt was funny without trying to be, or wanting to be, and it could get you in trouble. “I won’t lie to you, Tía,” she said as sincerely as she could.
    Carmen waved her arms about in a sudden gust of good humor. “I don’t mean just you…anybody. I don’t like liars, that’s all.”
    Jamilet placed her bag on the arm of the couch, not quite sure of what to do next. Carmen left for a moment and returned with an old blanket that she tossed at Jamilet.
    â€œTía,” Jamilet said, unfolding the blanket. “Don’t you eat dinner before you go to sleep?”
    â€œNaw…I ate at the bowling alley. A big cheeseburger, like I do every Wednesday on bowling nights.”
    Jamilet lowered her gaze. The mere thought of a cheeseburger made the saliva overflow in her mouth. The last time she’d had anything to eat was that morning—the remainder of her burger that she’d saved from the night before. Her stomach had been complaining since noon, although she’d been able to quench her thirst by drinking from the faucet in the yard.
    Carmen propped her hands on her hips. “Are you actually hungry…now?” Jamilet could only answer with the unmistakable gaze of the famished. “Well, I…I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” Carmen said, flustered and perturbed. “There’s nothing here, except maybe some crackers.” She thought for a moment and added. “Maybe…”
    Jamilet considered the hopelessness of the situation and brightened. “That’s okay, Tía. Right now, I need to sleep more than I need to eat.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    â€œI’ll be fine.” And that was enough to send Carmen on her way to bed without another worry.
    After ridding the couch of all the beer cans and food wrappers, Jamilet made her bed as best she could. She closed her eyes and tried to forget her hunger by remembering Eddie and how he’d peered at her through the fence earlier that day. She sensed a rare tenderness in his soul, and imagined that he was the sort who’d go to great lengths to catch a spider in the house and release it unharmed, no matter how loudly the women protested. “You’re a chick,” he’d said to her,