A/N: This story was birthed through a submission. I hope and pray that I did it justice.
Describing Noa's body type, think about Iskra Lawrence or Khrystyana Kazakova. And, yes she is darker complected, think Thandy Newton or Zoe Saldana.
On to the story now, I hope you guys like it!
Old Habits
I stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my every curve, dip, and give. Life had been a bitch to me and I was only twenty-eight. I grabbed at my fleshy stomach and scoffed in disgust. I looked at my meaty thighs and cringed. I turned my hips outwards to glance at my bottom, the only good thing on my body… well, one of the good things on my body. I looked and felt disgusting but I couldn't stop gnawing at the bagel in my hands. I breathed in deeply and released the gust of wind through my nose. It was now or never, I needed to get dressed if I wanted to make breakfast at my mother's and make it out of there in time for my interview. I was interviewing for the position of Executive Assistant at a law firm, a very prestigious law firm. I took the last bite out of my bagel and walked to my closet where I had set out my outfit for the day, above the ankle black skinny slacks, a white button down blouse, and a cream short jacket. I smiled at my ensemble, the same one I had worn for my very first day at my PR firm in Spain.
I quickly got dressed and straightened my already straight shoulder-length hair. I applied some mascara and a burgundy stain to my plump lips and made it out of my Harlem apartment. Outside, I hailed a cab to my mother's apartment in Tremont. It was a quick fifteen-minute ride that I had no problem in making, except of course, when my sister was involved. I could already hear my mother's nagging and my sister's bickering about my weight, my age, and the fact that I was still single and nearing that age in where a woman was no longer desirable. I sighed and shook my head as I rested it on the backseat's headrest. I blinked slowly and took in the sights of the city's early morning hustle. New York was nothing like Spain and though, having grown up my entire life in the Bronx, leaving it was no problem.
During my college years at NYU, I'd met an exchange student in my same field of study and he had said that there were better opportunities in Spain when it came to publicity, especially if you could dominate with ease the English language. Getting to where I had gotten to had been no walk in the park and I couldn't wait to be away and truly independent. I'd move to Madrid with a full and completed offer from a major PR firm with a five-year contract that was later extended into two more years. After having spent the better part of my twenties in a foreign city that later on became home, I began missing the city. The city that had molded and shaped me into the woman that I was now, so I returned with no job offer but with a hefty savings account. I took three months to settle back in and get in the groove of things and though, I was not ready to return to the expeditious environment of a PR firm, I was in need of a job and what better way to ease myself into it than as an assistant of some sorts. No, it wasn't the same but let's face it, being a publicist for several major companies and one for a person typically meant 'making them look good' and what better way to make someone look good than through his assistant?
"We're here miss, it'll be fifteen even," said the cab drive, interrupting my thoughts.
I reached in my purse and handed him a twenty-dollar bill as I uttered my thanks.
I stepped out of the cab and stared at my mother's building, the same building for nearly thirty years and she had no plans in moving and/or leaving this wretched place, "Here goes nothing," I mumbled under my breath.
I made it to the door and punched the combination to unlock the door. Once inside I noticed the renovations made to the building and was mildly impressed. Granted, I had not stepped foot in my childhood home since I left for Madrid. I made my way up to the fifteenth floor and gently knocked on my mother's door. I heard the faint 'it's open' from the inside and pushed the door open, rolling my eyes as I reminded myself of how things would probably never change around here. Inside of the newly remodeled dwelling the smell of coffee engulfed my nostrils and I smiled, something familiar, finally! I chuckled to myself and placed my purse on the living room chair as I made my way to the kitchen. Everything was new! New cabinetry, new floors, new countertops, new stove, new microwave, and what was that; a dishwasher, in a Puerto Rican's home? Dead. My brows rose and nearly reached my forehead at the sight of the foreign contraption in my mother's kitchen, "Ay, Noa! You're here, finally," said my mother standing on her tippy toes to reach my neck, "And, I see you've gained some weight too," she said, grabbing at my stomach.
I rolled my eyes and pushed her hands away, "¿Ya vas a empezar, Mami? Jesus, and you complain why I haven't here since I came back. You always have something to say about my damned weight."
My mother waved her hand over her shoulder as she continued with breakfast, "Whatever, go get Sara, she said she was getting ready."
"Pfft," I said, searching the cupboards for a mug so that I could pour my coffee, "It's barely seven thirty Ma, she's probably putting her make-up on."
"Well," my mother begun as she turned her head, "she's making the effort, unlike you."
Again, I rolled my eyes and felt the threat of a headache quickly approaching. I didn't respond, it had always been this way. My mother favored my sister because she was everything I was not. She was a 'womanly height', thin, and did everything my mother said. I, in the other hand, was an Amazonian of a woman, voluptuous, and challenged my mother in every way that I could. My father, Lord rest his soul, was my parent and he supported me in everything I did. Even when I decided to go against my mother's wishes to joint the talent agency and instead went for sports, softball on top of it all. I heard the clicking of heels and rolled my eyes once more as I maneuvered my way out of the kitchen and to the table, "So, you're just going to be rude and not say good morning to me or anything?"
I rolled my eyes and smirked, "I was here before you came out, el que llega es el que saluda."
She chuckled and approached me, kissing me on my cheek, "I thought you had an interview today, is that what you're wearing?"
I glared at her through my lashes, "Don't start, I already have enough with Mami commenting on my weight and getting on my nerves because you try and I don't."
Sara and I though completely different, always tried to embrace our difference but our mother, could never see that and Sara took advantage of that. She defended and advocated for me where she could but for the most part, she remained quiet, "Ay, pay her no mind. Mami will be that way 'til the day she dies."
"I'm listening to the both of you!" Our mother yelled from the kitchen, "So, shut it up si no quieren que le eche tres pasitos to the food."
Sara and I giggled and fell into chatter, finally catching up after seven years of not seeing each other, "So, tell me, how was Madrid?"
I lit up at the mention of Madrid, "Amazing! I don't think you'll like it there. It's less fast-paced than here but I think you'll like the dating pool," I hinted at the men.
"Oooh, tell me about that. Did you manage to meet somebody while you were there?" she gently prodded, knowing well my sister didn't care about my dating life but my mother did.
"Did Mami put you up to this?"
Sarah rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, "Can't I have a conversation about men with my big sister?"
"No, because you've never cared about my dating life and I know seven years apart didn't make you start caring, Sara!" I said with a smirk on my lips, leaning forward near her.
She slumped back in the chair, "Fine, Mami did ask me to find out."
At that our mother came out of the kitchen with two plates of food, "I can't trust with anything, Sara. Sheesh, you're such a pushover when it comes to this one," our mother said as she set our plates in front of us.
I looked down at my plate and noticed what my mother had done. She had offered me less food than my sister purposefully. I had no bread on my plate and had egg whites instead of the whole egg, I had turkey sausage instead of bacon, and I had a serving of yogurt with chia seeds instead of fruit. My sister and I looked each other and nodded, exchanging plates and laughing. I laughed on the outside but on the inside I knew why my mother had done what she had done. It was her way of telling me to control my mouth and get in shape but this had always been my shape. Ever since puberty came knocking on my door, this was my shape. I was a five foot ten inch woman with hips, thighs, and ass for days. I was a major foodie, thanks to our father's profession, and because of that, I had the extra pounds to show for it. I wasn't heavy set by any means but I was a size ten in pants whilst my sister was a perfect size two. I shook my head and ate in silence, fully enjoying the meal in front of me.
Our mother joined us and began chatter with Sara about something at her job. I was too focused on holding back my tears that I didn't even notice when the women in front of me addressed me for what seemed like third time, "Noa!"
"Huh?"
"Mami asked if the job is at a firm or someplace else?" Sara repeated herself.
"Oh, I'm not working for a PR firm. If I get it, it'll be a lawyer firm," I responded, nibbling at some grapes.
"Lawyers?" my mother said in disgust, "What do lawyers know about publicity?"
I rolled my eyes not wanting to get into this argument with my mother, especially not now, "Ma, you do know that my degree allows me to be flexible with what I do, right?"
"Yea, but your father and I didn't work so hard to put you through college so that you can go be a secretary," she mumbled.
I scoffed in disbelief; not believing what my mother was saying, "Are you kidding me, right now?" I was in awe. Sara gave me a pleading look and shielded her face with her long curtain of hair before mouthing 'please' towards me. No, fuck that, "You didn't do anything to put me through college, Mami. That was all Papi and I, you couldn't even be bothered to come to a single game of mine."
"Noa, please," my sister pleaded again.
"No Sara, please nothing. At first it was why do you want to play a sport where you have to be outside in the sun and get dirty, then it was are you a lesbian because Carmen said that a lot of the girls on the team have girlfriends, and when I got my scholarship it was, really, they're paying for you to go play for them and you choose public relations as your major?" I glared at my mother who had continued with her breakfast as if the conversation was completely casual, "It's never good enough for you, is it Mami? I'm never good enough for you."
"You don't know what you're talking about," she mentioned and averted her eyes from me.
I scoffed and threw my fork down on my plate, "Of course, avoid the conversation altogether, mother. That's what you're good at. That and telling me how much I need to lose weight," I paused momentarily, thinking for a second that comment would catch her attention, it didn't. I shook my head in disbelief and pushed the chair back, "Fucking unbelievable," oh, but that did.
"How dare you cuss in my house?" she seethed.
"Oh," I chuckled sarcastically, "that you can't handle but Sara fucking under your roof is completely acceptable?"
My mother and I held gazes, challenging each other through our eyes. I was not backing down, I didn't do so then as a teenager and I was certainly not doing it now. She gave in first, "Get out."
I shook my head once more and bit my lip, "With pleasure," I relented as I stood, walking towards the living room chair and grabbing my purse. I bypassed the women in the dining room table without conceding the decency of eye contact or verbal acknowledgment. I was seething and my morning had been ruined, I wanted nothing else than to leave that apartment where scenarios like the one that had just happened, occurred one too many times for me to actually count and remember but they were there and they had happened, that much I knew.
I stopped at the door momentarily thinking that maybe I had pushed too hard but once I heard that my mother had fallen back into simple chatter like nothing had happened placed everything in perspective and I was gone. I walked down the hallway, punching the down button to the elevator. I stewed in my anger as I waited for the elevator. In my younger years, I cried but it had happened so much that, truly, what was the point of crying right now? Honestly, what was it? I growled and tapped my foot furiously on the ground, anxiously expecting the arrival of the metal contraption that could have me on ground level and away from everything in a few short seconds. I walked forward and pressed the button repeatedly, growling and cursing at the slowness of it all. I kicked the wall and released a gust of wind through my nose, closing my eyes, and running my fingers through my hair, bunching them at the crown of my head. I needed to calm down, being this angry could be detrimental in my interview process and I was not about to screw up this opportunity just because my mother had managed to get under my skin once more.
As I'm willing my temper down, the bell for the elevator dinged and I watched as the doors slowly opened. I stepped inside the cabin and made it to the ground level. Outside the air felt rather calming. It was a cool embrace that spring awarded and I breathed easily. I closed my eyes and fluttered them open with a smile as I remembered a quote my father used to tell me about spring's breeze, "… love is carried on the breeze," he'd said. As I felt the ends of my hair tickling my cheeks I chuckled to myself and nodded. A breeze, whether it was a spring one, a nippy one, or a wet one always reminded me of my father and that quote; it's all I felt when I felt the fleeting wind in my hair, love.
I walked towards the curb and hailed a cab. I knew it was going to be an almost forty-dollar cab fare but I wanted a quiet ride and I really wasn't in the mood to take the subway, "392 Park Ave South," I mumbled to the cab driver. He nodded and begun the journey to Upper East Side of Manhattan which is where I hoped to have a job soon enough. I sat back again, but this time I couldn't concentrate on the people on the outside, this time I could only focus on the words that had came out of my mother's mouth and at the ones my sister could not say. All she could do was beg for me to not open my mouth and not tongue-lash our mother but she'd seen this one too many times and she knew that no matter how much she begged me not to do it, it was nearly impossible for me to control it.
I'd learned that me verbally lashing out at my mother would only make her angrier and come after me harder but it also gave me the opportunity to express myself and let her know how her words made me feel. My father allowed for the altercations to take place but he never allowed for them to go too far, "That's still your mother, Noa," he'd say. And, in that same breath he would go after my mother for being so insensitive towards me. She would apologize some times and others, her pride was too grand for it to be allowed but that just only proved me that I was getting to her, that she knew I was telling the truth but being such a stubborn woman, that one, she'd die before admitting she was wrong and though I knew, this morning, I'd been wrong for bringing Sara's business into my pile of shit, I wouldn't admit it right away to her.
"Henshall & Langan, they're pricey but the best," offered the cabby.
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