"Femme Trouble"

Beatriz is dying, she is sure she is or she surely will. The pain she feels is so intolerably excruciating there is no possible way she can survive, if there is such a thing as mercy.

She prays, a rare thing for her but for right now is needed, for Death to swing his sickle right through her heart so she could go quickly and peacefully.

HURRY NOW!!

The poor thing is in her soft bed, under the warm sanctuary of sheets and blankets, shifting to this side, shifting to that side, lies on her back (that doesn’t work), lies on her stomach, recoiling into a ball (but that feels worst!), stretching out of the ball. Nothing works, the pain never stops!

She hates the second day of her period. It’s the worst day of this miserable occurrence. Her head throbbed with all this pressure. It felt like her abdomen and lower back had been bruised with brass knuckles and kicked with steel toe boots.

She didn’t understand how she had been a fighter (professionally) for five years, being rag-dolled around the ring, beaten with fists, kicks, bats, steel chairs, survived a red-ass beat down of iron pipes and crowbars, power bombed through tables and on concrete streets, had her head bashed on naked ring posts, overcame numerous broken ribs and other bones and manage to limp away in one piece, ready to go at it again the next week, only to be laid out and suffering in bed just because of some cramps, groaning for burial. The pains were dull enough to bear, not totally crippling, but sharp enough make her feel so miserably nauseous and sluggishly lethargic and drowsy.

She didn’t remember the exact day she first had her period, she just remembered being horror-struck. She was ten and very scared. She didn’t think she was supposed to be bleeding from there but she was and profusely. She didn’t tell Mamá the first night because for some reason she felt ashamed and cried and prayed to God that whatever she did to deserve this she didn’t mean it and hoped she didn’t die during the night from the hemorrhage. Mamá found her bloody panties and explained to her, without going into the reason as to why she bled, that what was happening to her was natural and safe and she calmed down, though she didn’t think it was normal to bleed all of a sudden for a couple of days (it’s not like your nose just ran snot for apparently no reason), but when she got to the part about it happening once a month for the rest of her life, she went hysterical all over again and wished she was a born a boy.

But then she got breasts and found out how nice she fitted into dresses and other girlie things so that wish diminished pretty fast.

The bleeding wasn’t what bothered her; it was the “growing pains” but they didn’t really bother her either until after Mamá died.

Tío didn’t know anything about those things of the feminine nature and did his best to make her feel better when she was sick with sweets and chocolates and jokes, did little things to make her smile and laugh.

Agnes DeLarge was a saint to her and very sympathetic. She practically pampered her by bringing her tea with soft peppermint stirred in and refreshed her hot water bottles, and if she could, tried to cheer her up, talked to her of pleasant to take her mind off of her situation. Alice, sweet little Alice, unaware of what her adopted sister was going through but still understanding and caring, would come by with her coloring book and crayons and they would color together or watch cartoons together and talked about the latest little boy Alice was sweet on.

Beatriz never had the heart to tell her that most boys were fickle jerks who crushed on girls who didn’t give a shit about them or even know they existed and the other half had their minds stuck on a thing they didn’t know anything about and though sex is not a bad thing to think about, except when it’s the only thing you think of and how to get it cheap, fast, and easy.

David was also nice about it, which she thought was weird. She always thought guys didn’t want to be around girls when they were having their “time” or even think about it but he would comfort her by spooning with her and alleviating her aches with his large, warm, calloused hands on her tummy. That memory made her feel better and she thought about how he wasn’t that bad of a guy.

He wasn’t that good of a guy, either.
Magdalene would concur on that one. Hmm, wonder where she was now.

The only person who was not nice to her was of course, your friend and mine, that darling DICKLICKER, Seth. He would just pass off her sickness as being lazy and hung over then bitch at her for sleeping all day (HA! She wished she could sleep all day) but then got all self-righteous and indignant when she lashed out at him for being an asshole. She wasn’t angry at him because he was insensitive to her condition, she knew he wouldn’t care; she was upset at how he just couldn’t leave her alone. It seemed like he always wanted to irritate her, like an unreachable itch. He played with her trigger then he blamed her gun for going off in his face.

Minino probably didn’t know what was going on, but even he seemed concerned and showed it by nuzzling close to her, trying to console in some way.

And Seth wondered why she shows Minino more affection than him.

Fuck him brutally.

Bleh, she hated thinking about unpleasant things when she was already feeling unpleasant.

She was beginning to drift into that area of sleeping when you’re still awake but you’re unconscious she may have made that complete step into slumber if not for the sudden knock at the door.

Against her will, she stirred and disturbed Minino who was resting nearby. She thought and hoped that maybe if she stayed there the person would go away and come back when she was feeling better or maybe even not at all.

She preferred the latter, really.

JUST GO AWAY!!

And for a moment, the knocking stopped and she thought she won the battle but then the knocking resumed, this time to a tune she recognized. She didn’t remember the exact song, but she had definitely heard it before.

Maybe it was Eddie and if it was she wouldn’t be too sore about it, she just felt nice inside whenever he was around. He was like a drop of golden sun that light up the entire world with his smile.

Almost like Mary Tyler Moore.

She lumbered out of bed reluctantly, gave herself a quick look over in the nearest reflective object, and without even thinking twice, she opened the door only to get struck by the magnificent blue of a familiar set of eyes and the cheeky, cherry red, full-lipped grin possessed by only one person she had ever known.

“Why, bon soir, putain.” Said the drawling little cherub.

Beatriz was so hypnotized by this sudden surprise that she was caught off guard with a very malicious right hook to her jaw and a jab to her already hurting gut and she hits the floor hard. The red head is on her in two shakes, assaulting her face with her small, sharp knuckles, clawing at her eyes. Beatriz thinks fast and pops the butt of her palm right in the screaming woman’s nose and it bleeds instantly.

The angelic demon reels back, shouting loudly in French spiced with Cajun swears. It’s Beatriz’s turn to straddle her and she chokes the woman’s small, delicate neck. The woman gasps and gags for air but then head-butts her stiffly and Beatriz lets go and crawls away from her, the throb that had mellowed now raged and her vision went double and blurry.

They spend a silence trying to regain their composures, Beatriz on her hands and knees, nauseated and tired from the sudden movements, the other woman now propped on her elbow, rubbing her bruised neck. She wipes the blood from her face with the back of her hand and hacks up a nasty sounding piece of phlegm.

“Merde,” her voice is hoarse, “mon ami Ah nee’ uh sink or I’ll blee’ aww ova yer nice carpet.”

Beatriz points her in the direction of the bathroom.

“Sink’s on the right side of the door.”

The woman makes the motions to stand but a little shaky when she does and smiles down at Beatriz as she walks past her.

“Appreciated, cherí.”

“De nada.” She’s getting up now too, going to put some tea on. Her head continues to pound but she can manage a chuckle and shake of her tortured head.

“Goddamn, Maggie, just goddamn.”