After the Spanish-American War
Puerto Rico was doing needlework in the living room of America's house. This place was unfamiliar and she was livid about being stuck here, but needlework had always been calming. It was repetitive and that was enough to keep her from yelling at everyone around her for now.
But, the thought kept coming to the forefront of her mind that she was still a colony again despite her best efforts. She stabbed through the fabric with more force than was strictly necessary in an attempt to vent her frustration.
Cuba was sitting across from her reading a book and the Philippines was braiding her long hair on another couch. The three of them had endured the the worst of Spain's instability and control, and now they were stuck with another imperialist that had used a war against Spain as an excuse to bring them under his yoke.
Puerto Rico felt another surge of rage, not just at America. It was the unfairness of life that was making her so angry. She was mad at Spain for oppressing her, at Mexico for leaving her, with Philippines for helping him, and with Alfred for not letting her be free. But, she was seething in silence, taking her anger out on the piece of fabric that she was stitching a bird of paradise on.
Guam came running into the room and breathlessly said, "Alfred has a visitor!"
He ran over to the window and looked out to where America and his visitor apparently were. Puerto Rico could not care less about who was visiting, there was no country who she had a kind word for. But, Guam was young and excited. He said, "Carlos, come here! Do you know her?"
Cuba sighed and stood up. When he looked out, he said, "That's Brazil. I've only met her once or twice. I don't know much about her."
Philippines said, cutting unexpectedly into the conversation, "Alejandro knows her. He used to send her letters."
This information pulled Puerto Rico away from her needlework. She had never heard that Mexico had even met Brazil, let alone that they were close enough to send each other letters. She asked, seeking for some reason for this, "When did he do that?"
It could not have been when he was a colony, she would have known about it. Philippines looked like she thought this was obvious, "From what I can tell, they knew each other since before I met him."
It was impossible, Mexico had never even spoken with another woman while they were together. Puerto Rico said, "That can't be. He was with me."
The look that passed over the other woman's face caused a wave of terrible dread over her.
Philippines spoke slowly, "If you didn't know, then maybe..."
She trailed off and the look on her face suddenly turned to pity. Nothing could have made Puerto Rico more upset. She said, shrillness coloring her voice, "Maybe what?"
Philippines replied with the air of someone who would rather be anywhere else, "Maybe she was the other woman. Ale once told me that he had another woman waiting for him."
Puerto Rico felt curiously light headed as she slowly processed the news. Mexico had a mistress, even when they were engaged. The anger that she had been suppressing came roaring up. This was the last humiliation, and she could not stand it. The person who was the target of this sudden, sharp rage was standing in the garden.
She rose to her feet and threw down her needlework on the chair, and let her anger carry her out of the room. Cuba said sharply, "Cat! Don't do anything rash!" But by that point, she was already out the door. His heavy footsteps followed her, but she did not care.
In a moment, she was out of the house and in the garden. Brazil was not what she had expected. If she did not know that Brazil was a woman, she would not have immediately have seen it. Brazil was wearing a man's uniform, with a sword at her hip.
Bringing all her anger into her voice box, Puerto Rico said, "Hey, hussy!"
Brazil turned her head towards the sound, but her face remained impassive. This fact, if anything, made her even angrier, and she said, "He wasn't yours! You stole him!"
By this point, America had noticed her yelling, and he was walking towards him. But, Brazil turned to him and said, "Wait. I'll handle this."
Puerto Rico felt like a demon had possessed her, every injustice she had endured was coming back to her in vitriolic waves. But her rival looked incredibly calm as she walked towards her.
When she got close enough, Brazil had the gall to reach out to her and say, "You are too pretty for these tears. Let him be free, and let yourself be happy."
Puerto Rico swatted away her hand and said, "Don't touch me, bitch."
She could see America ready to intervene, and it wasn't worth it to keep up this anger. She gave them both one more angry glare and said to no one in particular, "He loved me!"
Then she turned and walked away, feeling the anger ebb away and give way to the deepest despair. As soon as she was back inside, sheltered safely behind the door, she let the tears come. As the sobs shook her body, she felt Cuba pull her into a hug and say, "I'm so sorry, Cat."