Title: Jagged Hearts
Summary: "Successful mothers are not the ones that have never struggled. They are the ones that never give up despite the struggles." -Sharon Jaynes
Disclaimer: I do not own OITNB or any of its characters. They belong to Jenji Kohen, I do however, own my writing so please don't steal- Johanna002©
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A/N: I guess a thank you is in order, for AliceSloane13, since I had intended to write something sweet for her, but instead this came out. Sorry about that friend. Thank you to Icedragon3643 for looking over this for me. It's much appreciated. As earlier stated, this went in a completely different direction then what I was anticipating, but I hope you enjoy it none the less. Happy belated Mother's Day to the mommies, the fur mommies like myself, to the ones who help raise the 'village' and most especially to the ones who've lost their mothers. *hugs*
It wasn't often that the prison was generous enough to allow the inmates more than a half hour with their children, but Mother's Day was something different- special. It was the one time out of the year when the Warden recognized the inmates as human beings.
The gesture was one of good a faith. It allowed the women in beige and orange a sense of normalcy, something that they unfortunately lacked from their everyday life. Mother's Day in Litchfield was a nice change of pace. There was something special about being able to walk around the campus with a little one in tow, or to sit on the grass with them and just talk- it was everything.
Even if you didn't have children, you could lose yourself in a fantasy, pretend you were at a park and become mesmerized at the sight of mothers interact with their children. There was something calming to the women at large about having so many children so close.
However, in the same breath, it was also incredibly painful. There was a vast majority of women who had lost their mothers, some who had even lost their children while serving their sentence. Many women had even lost their life to the system after being incarcerated so young, not ever getting the opportunity to even have a child, and some women had children who refused to even acknowledge their existence.
In the same beauty that cradled Mother's Day, misery intervened.
The kitchen walls found Gloria flipping through the pages of Red's book, her head resting heavily in her right hand as she tried to distract herself with words. As interesting as the piece of literature probably was, she didn't have it in her to focus.
Her sons hadn't come to see her this year. Her aunt's promise the night before to be there cut to her core like a serrated steak knife.
Mendoza had caught herself watching through the visitation window like a lost puppy. She knew she probably had same look on her face that she had seen on Nichols' countless times. She hated being on this side of the prison's fence.
"So anyway," Red continued in annoyance, her voice rising in pitch as she yelled across the kitchen. "My son- his wife- she thinks she's pregnant, but she's not sure it's his." Bitter laughter followed her words. "How does that happen? How do you get pregnant with another man's baby when you're married?"
Gloria rolled her eyes, a conscious effort on her part to not sound bitter. "You fuck someone else," she retorted quickly. She slapped the book closed and leaned back into the chair, her eyes fluttering closed in an attempt to mentally disappear. She would give anything to be anywhere else but here- to be home with her boys.
Red appeared in the doorway, her hands wiping down the front of her apron. She smiled sadly, leaning into the hard metal of the fence. "I'm sorry," she apologized softly. "I shouldn't be complaining about my family."
Opening her eyes, Gloria forced herself to smile. "It's okay. It's comforting to know that your life isn't as put together as you want me to believe."
"Glad I could make you feel better." Red smirked playfully and crossed the short distance to be at her side. She took a seat on the corner of the desk, and ran her hand through her hair. "Why don't you at least call them? I'm sure they'd love to hear from you Gloria."
The Hispanic woman shook her head no. "If they wanted to see me or talk to me, they would have found a way to get here." She threw her head back in exhaustion, purposely not mentioning the fact that she had already called them three times, only giving up when her son's voice directing her to leave a voicemail caused tears to mist in her eyes.
"Mendoza," Red chastised. "Please, none of that self-loathing bullshit. Only one girl gets my sympathy and that's Nicky."
Rolling her eyes, Gloria couldn't help the small grunt of protest that vibrated through her chest as Red stood up from the desk and began to make her way out of the office.
"I've got food cooking," the Russian explained distractedly. "Come out here if you want to talk to me. I won't cater to you the way I do Nicky."
"I go out there and you're going to make me work," Gloria argued. "I've figured you out."
Red rolled her eyes, gathering her supplies together as she prepared to begin her prep work. "You know what will help you snap out of that sour attitude? Washing carrots and then cutting them up into tiny pieces, and when you're done with that, cutting the cucumbers." she shook her head, muttering under her breath, "Nicky needs more vegetables in her diet."
"Is there anything you just accept?" Gloria asked in frustration, pushing herself up from the chair. "A person's mood, reality? The fact that I don't want to help you cook?"
Gloria rubbed at her lower back, grimacing slightly at the tense muscle that spasmed in protest of her movements. Slaving away all these long hours and being on her feet so much, she understood why Red's back was the way it was. If she didn't slow it down, she'd be facing the same fate.
Turning to face her, Red dramatically waved around the wooden spoon that she held in her hand. "No." She said honestly. "Although, I do accept compliments without question."
Gloria laughed and leaned against the freezer, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well no wonder you're always so skeptical," she teased. Watching her with a smile, she couldn't help but shake her head in amusement.
Often times she worried for Red, the woman was as wild as her hair. She was too dramatic for her own good. Something Gloria couldn't help but question. She wasn't sure if drama was part of the woman's natural charm, or perhaps influenced from spending so much time with Nicky.
The thought of the younger woman brought a smile to her lips and she looked up toward the doorway of the cafeteria, curiously wondering what the mouthy soul was up to.
Was Nicky getting into trouble? More than likely, Gloria concluded. She was Red's daughter after all.
"Here," Red's voice broke through her train of thought as she pulled a hot pan from the oven. "These will make you feel better. My mother used to make them."
Gloria's face crinkled in disgust. The smell, not to mention the appearance of Red's treat, caused her stomach to turn. "What the hell are those?" she asked incredulously.
They had a round, doughy appearance. Stuffed with what looked like vegetables and undercooked meat. It looked like an upset stomach waiting to happen.
Setting the hot pan down, Red pulled off her oven mitt. "They don't have an official name. My mother made them up by throwing ingredients together."
Raising an eyebrow, Gloria eyed the delicacy suspiciously. "Are they safe to eat?" They didn't even look cooked all the way. The skepticism in her tone was obvious no matter how hard she tried to remain non-judgmental.
"Just try it," Red pleaded.
Gloria had never known Red to be wrong about this sort of thing, and though she was known for taking dangerous risks, this didn't seem like one that would bode well for her or her stomach.
"I altered her recipe slightly, but I was famous for them." Red explained, a loving smile on her lips as she thought of her mother.
Unlike many of the women who came through the doors of Litchfield, her home life growing up had been somewhat of a dream.
"Let them cool off a little more, but I promise you'll love them."
"I'm still not sure if that was yes," Gloria muttered. She moved away from the tray, resuming her position against the freezer. Her eyes focused on the back of Red's head in thought. The sound of her own voice reached her ears before she realized she had even opened her mouth to speak. "You got along well with your mother?" She asked curiously. She wasn't blind to the obvious adoration that had colored the redhead's words.
Red nodded, not bothering to turn around to answer her. "I did. My family was always close, and I was the youngest of four- three older brothers- kind of like Nicky." A smile touched her lips at the thought of her wild cub.
"I thought Nicky was an only child?"
"She's not my only child," Red scoffed. "I'm not quite sure how she'll adjust to sharing the spotlight when we get out of here. Although, my sons have always wanted a sister." she couldn't help but roll her eyes. "I'm sure they'll indulge her every whim." laughing softly she shook her head, "I tell you, Mendoza, that girl will be the death of me."
They fell into a comfortable silence and Red continued to busy herself with prep work. Dinner wasn't for another few hours, but she didn't know what else she could do with her time. It was no secret, but her kitchen was her happy place. She thrived when she worked and though some would consider the task of preparing a mundane one, she found great enjoyment in it.
It was a chance to be alone in her thoughts and work both her hands and her mind. It was therapeutic. It calmed her in same way yoga calmed Jones, and it brought her comfort in the way God comforted the Sister, and yes, as silly as it sounded, it even brought her a level of excitement in the same way sex did for Nicky.
Okay, so cooking didn't bring her the same excitement as sex did, but it was a close second.
She heard Gloria sigh behind her and she cast a glance over her shoulder. Turning back to her cutting board, Red chuckled softly to herself. Gloria. The woman was a world of many wonders, an individual she was having the most fun trying to figure out.
"What about your mother?" Red asked. Her hands moved in a rhythmic pattern as the blade of her knife sliced through the onions. "Does she not live here? Did she get deported back to Mexico?"
"No," Gloria answered in annoyance. "And for the hundredth time, Red, I'm Cuban."
"I still don't see a difference."
Gloria glared at her. This was a daily argument, one she would have sworn they had earlier that morning. She looked down to her feet, her left foot scratching up and down the shin of her right leg.
Red continued to press for an answer, the sound of her knife hitting the cutting board at an intense speed. "So, your mother?" she questioned, her pitch rising in interest. "Where is she?"
Keeping her eyes focused on the ground, Gloria squeezed her bicep, her nails digging painfully into her skin. Normally she wasn't so touchy about such a subject, but perhaps the nostalgia of Mother's Day, mixed with her longing for her children, was finally starting to get to her.
Unaware of the younger woman's distress, Red continued into a explanation about her own mother. The love in her tone was obvious, a twinge of grief causing her voice to crack as she explained,Mine died many, many years ago, a few weeks after my youngest, Vasily had been born." She shook her head sadly and gut into her onions a little faster, "It's never easy losing a parent. Sometimes I wish she was still here, she would have loved Nicky." A smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she imagined her two-favorite people carrying on and laughing. Perhaps her mother could have helped Nicky find enjoyment in the kitchen. "I can sometimes hear her voice in my head. Yelling at me; questioning me. Wondering why I let Nicky walk around looking a mess- like birds have nested in her hair."
Her eyes still focused down on her feet, Gloria shrugged lamely. She knew Red wasn't watching her, but she felt exposed. She was starting to understand the feeling of insecurity that Nicky had expressed to her months ago.
What in the hell was it about this woman that made you both want to open up and hide all at the same time?
"Son of a bitch!" Red exclaimed loudly, her voice roughly pulling Gloria from her train of thought. The knife fell from her hand to clatter against the counter.
Gloria's brows furrowed in confusion, her irritation obvious. "Well, screw you too!" she hissed.
"I wasn't talking to you," Red whimpered. Looking down, she cradled her right hand to her stomach, her left holding pressure to it as blood began to seep into her apron. "Fuck." She should have been paying more attention to what she was doing, not rambling on like Nicky when she had too much sugar.
"What?" Gloria pushed herself from the freezer. "You got an imaginary friend there with you now?" she made the quick walk to Red's side, her eyes growing wide at the sight of blood. "What the hell did you do?" It wasn't anything to freak out about, but it looked like it hurt.
She gripped the Russian by her bicep and led her over to the sink. Gloria pulled Red's hand from her midsection and ran it under the water. She watched in fascination as the blood pooled and disappeared down the drain.
Red winced, examining the large cut on her finger. "I think there's a first-aid kit in the office."
Gloria nodded and moved to retrieve the box. Returning a few seconds later she turned off the water and gestured for Red to hold out her hand. "Well," she said casually as she pulled the paper apart from the band-aid and wrapped it around the lone digit. "I'm sure you won't die from this, but stay away from the food and keep that clean."
"Si Senora," Red mocked. She heard Gloria laugh and she smiled softly. Lifting her head her blue eyes met Mendoza's warm, brown ones. "Thank you," she mouthed.
A moment of silence passed between them and Gloria inclined her head in acknowledgement. Taking a step back,she adjusted her body so that she could lean back against the counter. She resumed her earlier position of crossing her arms over her chest.
Red regarded her carefully. "So," she spoke gently, breaking the silence they had been securely cocooned in. Her words were barely an audible whisper, "Your mother?"
Gloria's sighed, her hands dropping to her side. Her story was nothing like Red's but in the same breath it was nothing like Nicky's. Perhaps it was a dangerous mix of both?
"She was killed when I was thirteen." Gloria admitted. She felt the emotional wounds of her past open, the bandage she had secured around them dissolving into her words as she spoke.
Red gasped, "Gloria, I'm sorry." Her joke from earlier came to mind and she cursed herself silently. She didn't try to go out of her way to insult people, and especially not Gloria. She had developed quite a fondness for the Latina.
Gloria shrugged, forcing herself to smile. "You didn't know," she waved away her apology. "Everyone had there stuff, right? Nicky has hers, you have yours. I've dealt with it, Red."
Shaking her head, Red smiled at her sympathetically. "No matter, I know it's painful losing a mother at any age." She leaned against the counter, her hip digging painfully into the edge as she shifted all of her weight onto her write foot, her left popping up to lean against her ankle. "Tell me about her," she requested.
Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Gloria seemed to be considering the Russians words. Her shoulders squared and Red momentarily feared that she would walk away.
Reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder she felt the tension in her back ease slightly as Gloria free her eyes up to look at her.
"Please," Red whispered. "Tell me about her?"
Gloria couldn't shake the feeling of security that stored low in her belly. Curse this woman and her empathetic attitude; her soft and incredibly mezmerising blue eyes. A part of her almost wished they could go back to hating on another.
It felt as if she were having an outer body experience, and Gloria could help but stand taller as she explained the unique and beautiful woman that had been her mother."She was amazing and beautiful," she smiled softly as an image of the raven haired beauty appeared in her mind as clearly as if she were standing in front of her. "She was so talented," Gloria clenched her jaw, the muscle in her neck flexing under the strain of her sudden distress.
Smiling, Red's dropped her hand from Gloria's body and they rested atop one another on the edge of the counter. She listened with piqued interest, her teeth catching and pulling on her bottom lip as she watched Gloria lose herself in her story.
"She was so artistic, always drawing; always painting. I loved when she used to draw for me." A huge, pop-cicle grin crossed her features, her teeth showing- a ginuine smile- as she recalled the large painting easel her mother had gifted to her. "One year, for Christmas, she had bought me this painting kit. I remember I getrig so pissed because she opened it and had used all of the paint. I never even got to use it!" she laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "She had painted a sunflower," Gloria's voice broke slightly and she shook her head. "I think my aunt still has it. We hung it up in the living room after she passed."
Red winced at her words, her features softening as she imagined what Gloria's mother would have been like. How different, perhaps not the woman she life could have been if she was still around? What would she think now, if she could see her? Red cringed as she thought of her own mother. Surely, given their situation, Gloria's mom would have been just as disappointed.
"I'm sorry," Red apologized sincerely. "She sounds beautiful."
The loss of her own mother still hurt at times, but she felt as if there was an unspoken difference between losing a parent as a child, versus losing them as an adult. It was a hurt no one could explain or relate to unless they had experienced such a travesty themselves.
Despite her regret for making the other woman talk about something so painful, Red's curiosity got the best of her. "How did she die?"
Gloria felt the color drain from her face. Her eyes pulled from Reds to look at her shoes and she bit the inside of her cheek roughly. "She was murdered." Her voice broke under the weight of her grief.
When Gloria had said she'd been killed, Red had been anticipating something along the idea of a car accident. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She was at a complete loss for words. How was she supposed to respond?
"She was a working girl," Gloria trailed off. She nodded at the realization that scribbled it's self across Red's features. "It's okay," she acknowledged. "She was a hooker. I've made peace with it."
"Gloria-"
In some unexainable way, Gloria felt compelled to elaborate. It wasn't as if she was proud of her mother's life style, but it unfortunately was her relality. She had learned from an early age to stop kidding herself. The truth was always easier then recovering from a shitstorm of lies. "She tried hard to hide what she did, but… everyone knew." The words past her lips smootly, and she tried to shrug it off, but Red's hand on her arm solidified her heartbreak. "Usually during the week, she didn't… have her dates," she laughed bitterly at the word, the faces of the men who had degraded her mom flipping in her mind like photo album. She'd unfortunately been privy to some of the exchanges.
Something told Red there was more to Gloria's story than just having an over eager mother. That there perhaps was a dark and lingering guilt inside of Gloria, that felt responsible for her mother's choices.
"I was invited to a school dance," Mendoza laughed softly, shaking her head at how stupid it all sounded now. "And she wanted to buy me a dress… " her voice broke and she licked her bottom lip, swallowing painfully as her throat seemed to swell up suddenly. "So, that night she went out... and she did what she did, for me."
Pictures of her childhood flashed in her mind's eyes and Gloria released a shaky breath as an image of her mother suddenly appeared. The last time she had seen her she was wearing a blue dress, her hair pulled back into a tight braid that cascaded down the length of her back. She had looked so radiant that day.
Red felt her heart break, her hand tightening around Gloria's forearm as she waited for the only logical and heart wrenching end to her story. She'd had so many wonderful years with her mother that she could only imagine how lonely and terrifying growing up without her would have been. Only after being sick for sometime had her mother finally succumbed to her illness.
Though it was painful to watch, her mother had more or less died of natural causes- she hadn't been stolen from her by another person. That's not to say losing her been easy by any means, but Red had been given months to prepare herself for the inevitable, while Gloria's world had been ripped and flipped upside down unexpectedly.
Gloria had only been 13- a child. She had no idea that watching her mother leave the house that evening would be the last time she would ever see her alive.
"The police found her body two days later behind an alley." Glorias eyes rolled heavenward as she spoke and her bottom lip popped out, wobbling as she forced herself to keep it together. "Maybe if I hadn't-"
"Gloria," Red chastised softly. She pulled the Hispanic woman toward her just enough that they were touching shoulder to shoulder. "You didn't kill your mother." She needed the woman to know- to understand- none of what happened had been her fault.
"Somedays it feels that way," she admitted, her hands coming up to wipe at the stinging in the corner of her eyes. She grimaced at the watery eyeliner that smudged her finger tips. She wiped the tears traces of her cosmetics down the sides of her pants.
Red nudged her gently, "It's okay to cry."
Gloria felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips and she shook her head in protest. "You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?" she laughed softly. "Seeing me fall apart at the seams."
"Usually I prefer to get my entertainment from Nicky, but," Red teasingly mulled over the idea of seeing Mendoza in tears. "It'd be nice to know your life isn't as well put together as you would like me to believe," she joked, mimicking her words from earlier. She nodded her head toward the cafeteria exit. "Go call your sons, Mendoza." She pleaded. "You could use your people."
The brunette nodded. Perhaps she should try one last time to call them. She regarded the redhead carefully and pushed herself away from the counter, arms crossing back over her chest protectively. "If I see Nicky I'll send her in here," she turned slightly offering Red a smile. It was the most she could do without actually saying thank you "You look like you could use people of your own."
Author's Note: Hey all, so as is my thing, I try to give shout outs to my RN people who post their first RN centered stories. Jotajessie author of Reznikov's a story about Red/Nicky/Tricia navigating everyday life- super cute. I am in love. GodandMonsters author of I Promise (I am helping her write this story) check it out. She has done so much to it, and I'm more or less, just her glorified beta. Last but not least, hollyhalebnichorelloregelolove author of It Started With A Card, a wonderful Mother's Day story. Okay, so, I think that is everyone. Go read and send them all the love!