(no subject)
Home is, as it always has been, a noisy, riotous affair, full of the squalling of babies, the ever-present smell of beans and rice, a steady parade of affectionate relatives coming in and out, small children clambering for hugs and attention.
"You're too skinny," Mama says, and while Mimi can't disagree with such an obvious truth, it does sting a little. She's a shell of what she was, and well she knows it - white and rail-thin, in desperate need of - well, a great many things, really. But it is what it ss, and there isn't much she could do about it, except shovel down massive amounts of Mama's cooking, which she does with abandon.
When the topic of Benny comes up, as she knew it would, she admits to her mother that he never loved her, that he married some rich gringa and had no further use for Mimi, and her mother pulls her close, embracing her, giving Mimi a shoulder to lean on while she cries.
It helps more than she thought it would, and when she leaves - carrying a basket full of Mama's empanadas - she really feels better, about everything.
"You're too skinny," Mama says, and while Mimi can't disagree with such an obvious truth, it does sting a little. She's a shell of what she was, and well she knows it - white and rail-thin, in desperate need of - well, a great many things, really. But it is what it ss, and there isn't much she could do about it, except shovel down massive amounts of Mama's cooking, which she does with abandon.
When the topic of Benny comes up, as she knew it would, she admits to her mother that he never loved her, that he married some rich gringa and had no further use for Mimi, and her mother pulls her close, embracing her, giving Mimi a shoulder to lean on while she cries.
It helps more than she thought it would, and when she leaves - carrying a basket full of Mama's empanadas - she really feels better, about everything.