Chapter 3 To break the ice
Thanks to Verarose19, When-A-Sprite-Meets-Unicorn and Ms Sread for reading and commenting. The next two chapters will focus on Flaca and Maritza. We will also meet other characters from the series. I will come back to Cecilia in chapter 5.
A few things about "The Litchfield book club" are necessary to read this chapter: Nicky and Shani are married and live in Litchfield. Jessica who spends time with the Litchfield ladies is an OC. She is in charge of a book club that takes place once a month at Flaritza coffee, she knows Nicky and Flaca quite well.
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Tamika was looking at the woman sitting across from her. She thought the black pants paired with a blue shirt and discreet gold ankle boots she was wearing looked good on her. Natalie Figueroa's outfit had changed a lot since they last saw each other. She probably wanted to adapt to her new professional environment.
"So, how's Linda doing," Natalie asked, putting down the cup of coffee she was drinking to finish off their lunch.
"Linda it's Linda," Tamika replied playfully. "Since she has managed to renovate the old workshops to make the inmates of Ice producting things there," she is in a good mood.
Natalie sighed. Talk about the working conditions of the Ice inmates had been the reason for their meeting at the Flaritza coffee, Tamika having agreed to see her regularly to provide discreet help to the Immigrant Defense Project.
"It means more money for Policon shareholders," Natalie muttered.
Tamika smiled. "There are some advantages to this situation. She approves certain budgets for essential things more easily . Soap, that kind of stuff."
Natalie didn't answer, but Tamika knew what she was thinking: "I don't miss this job." Tamika didn't like it either. Some of these aspects were even quite scary. But, she was trying to do her best. And, there was Taystee. Seeing her every day and knowing that she was fine despite the cruelty of her situation comforted Tamika.
"Do we pick a date for next month?" She offered. "First Thursday in February?"
Natalie looked down at the table. Tamika saw that she was blushing.
"Oh, that day I can't." She made a break and continued. "We have an appointment in court , to adopt Vanessa."
"This is a really good new," Tamika said. "You must be very happy."
"Yes," Natalie added, quitte shyly. She didn't need to talk anymore. Her smile spread from her lips to her eyes. For a few seconds Tamika shared her silent joy, until a loud voice broke this moment of complicity.
"You are going out tonight?"You are going out tonight?" repeated a dark-haired girl, leaning against the counter.
"You say you're going to spend your week without Juli to look for work, so that we can finally buy a car. But, every time I call, you tell me that you are going out, or you just waked up because you fucking went out. "
"I think we should go away," Natalie commented, glancing at the girl.
"Yes, but we have to pay at the counter first," Tamika remarked.
"... Alright. You know what? I'm going out tonight too. Goodbye Maritza." The girl hung up and threw her phone on the counter. The problem was solved.
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Gloria's apartment had had been transformed in a beauty salon. The smell of perfume and powder hung in the air from the living room to the bathroom. Fortunately, she took Juliana to a night at Aleida's place and wouldn't see the five girls coming and going, clicking their heels on her floor tile . Flaca wrapped a strand of Nicky's hair around the curling iron.
"Ouchhh," she complained.
"Sorry," Flaca sighed. She had offered to help the girls with their hair and makeup before the party and almost regretted it now. That night, like the two previous nights, she had woken up suffocating. She had put her hand on her face to don't scream, to don't wake Juliana. Slowly, the contours of the room took shape, and appeased her. She was not in Colombia. But, how could she get back there? When she was there life was tough but she was doing the right thing.
Here, in Gloria's quiet house, where she spent her days between the coffee shop and the park, playing with Juliana, everyday life in Bogota seemed violent and absurd to her.
"It's raining. I can't put my raincoat on with my purple dress. How am I doing, Flaca?" Lorna lamented.
"I don't know. I can't stop thinking about the guy sticking to me on the bus in Bogota. He does it every morning and every evening for an hour. I've been thinking about it all day, since then. where I woke up. " She almost answered that. She might have been relieved, but it wasn't Lorna's fault. Lorna had lived her own tragedies.
"Put on jeans with my black top that's on the bed," she shouted so the other girl could hear from the bedroom.
Lorna chuckled and Flaca smiled. She maybe could enjoy this evening.
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"The town is beautiful. We are in a small street behind the bar. It smells of wood fire. I don't know why I am telling you this because I'm still mad at you."
In the almost empty street, Shani and Jessica walked beside her, their eyes lowered to the ground to avoid slipping. The little bar where they took a drink after the restaurant was packed and the three of them needed some fresh air. It was a full moon night. When Flaca had sent her texto to Maritza she had looked up at the sky, and saw this round moon which lit the red brick buildings. A mist as soft as cold enveloped them.
"In Colombia it's 25 fahrenheit, she said toughtfully. She was relieved because none of the girls had asked about Colombia. Now she was talking about it.
"Do you like living there?" Jessica asked. Surely she knew the answer was no, but she tried to approach the subject gently. Flaca appreciated this.
"No," she responded softly. "At first you believe that anything is possible, that you can do whatever you want, be whatever you want. In fact, you realize that you can only be what they want you to be."
"Yeah," Shani approved. She put her hands in her coat's pockets to protect herself from the cold.
Flaca continued to speak: "In the bank where I work, I'm the Gothic cashier. It's a good job, so I'm not going to complain. We live in a secure residence, but the apartment is small. Everydays, we hear about something ... "
She stopped when she heard a noise. She had the impression of being caught making shameful confidences. It was just Lorna and Nicky coming out of the bar with red faces, jackets in hand.
"Flaca tells us about Colombia," Shani says to bring them into the conversation.
"Huuu, that can't be worse than Litchfield," Nicky observed, looking at their sad faces.
"There are pieces of glass at the top of the walls of the residence like barbed wire, and a recreation room ," Flaca replied sarcasticaly.
Jessica continued to watch the pavement, and Lorna looked uncomfortable:
"If you don't like Colombia, it's cool to tell us," "We're here to listen to you."
The five girls laughed. No one knew how to break the ice better than Nicky.
"There are beautiful things in Colombia. Dawn in Bogota is ... beautiful. But the city is really scary ... You knew that people are so poor, that there are disfigured guys who are demanding money on every street corner. The other day, I talked to one of my colleagues about our money problems, and she suggested me to join some kind of prostitution network . The girl hasn't spoken to me since. which I refused. "
"That's a good thing isn't it?" Nicky remarked, her gaze meeting Flaca's.
"Sure," Jessica added.
She approached, the mist swelling her hair and drops of water were applied to her eyelashes.
"Maybe you have to remember why you live there. Even though it's hard, you live in Colombia to be with Maritza and little Juliana. What you do, it makes sense."
"It's true," Flaca replied. She hoped that her brief absence would allow Maritza to think, that maybe her attitude would change. Often she wondered why Maritza loved Colombia so much. For her, life there was easier, more beautiful. Flaca felt Shani's gaze on her back. She went back to the bare, hand in hand with Nicky. Flaca knew Shani would have advised her to leave Colombia if the situation had been different. She knew how difficult it was to live in a country that did not accept you as you were. But, Flaca wouldn't leave. Not without Maritza.
