when marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me [sway]
Who: Jeanette and Lucil
When: Saturday (13 days after [i'm some kind of badass])
Where: Latin Dance Club
Rating: PG-13ish
The room was bustling with noise; a din of low tones that seemed to drone in her ear even as she stood in her dressing room at the end of a lone hallway. The stage was built like a giant T, with the tail sticking out into the assembled chairs like a runway. The curtains were closed, and the backstage lead into a small hallway where several small rooms were situated. Jeanette was in the farthest one from the stage and her door was shut firmly against any intruders. Her mother stood behind her as they both gazed into the full-length mirror and the older Latina was tightening the dress around her daughter. “You look beautiful, Mija.” She said fondly, meeting her daughters gaze in the mirror. The young girl sighed and gave a small smile, “Thanks Mami.” She took a seat in the stool and spun it to face her mother.
Esmerelda picked up the make-up from the counter and began to apply it onto her daughters face. “You will do great tonight. Your father and I are so proud of you.” She smiled before chuckling, the sound smooth and comforting. “Your father always says that because he’s Italian, he has no clue what’s going on, and that he’s amazed you can dance. I told him you have the blood of a Garcia in your veins and it would be amazing if you couldn’t dance. No Garcia has ever not learned the Tango.”
“Not even you, Mami.” Jeanette smiled fondly at her mother then gave a shrug while her mother re-applied make-up to the brush, “So one day, I’ll also teach my daughter how to tango.” She grinned sheepishly when Esmerelda’s eyes went wide.
“You’re going to have kids? But I thought you didn’t-“
“Mami, I’m capable of having kids. Insemination and all that.” She paused and shrugged again, “I love kids. Of course I want one or two.”
“Or four!”
“You’re pushing it, Mami.”
“Sorry Mija.” Esmerelda silenced herself then smiled to herself, “I’m just glad you’ll keep the Garcia line going, and that you’ll make me a proud Abuela.” Finishing the make-up, (which was more then Jeanette usually ever wore; eye shadow, mascara, eye-liner, blush and foundation. She only ever more Mascara.) Esmerelda turned her daughter to face the mirror and start on her hair.
For the next hour, Esmerelda worked to pin up Jeanette’s hair into a fashionable bun, though at first it had been too tight and rigid that Jeanette insisted she at least loosen it and let a few strands loose. Finished, Jeanette stood up to examine herself in the mirror. If she didn’t know better, she would have never guessed it was her.; jean-and-tank top wearing, mascara loving teenager into dress-wearing beautified Latina.
For a moment both women reveled in the image before Esme tugged on Jeanette’s arm. “It’s almost your turn. Tony is waiting outside.”
“Thanks mom.” Jeanette turned and hugged her mother before there was a knock on the door that broke them both apart and they left with Tony to wait backstage.