Damn Girl, You Ugly

CHAPTER 11

I couldn’t help it.

I guess one could call it ‘a slip of the tongue’. I didn’t mean to get Angelo into trouble. It was an ‘accident’. I mean who would wish that terrible fate for him, seeing his culo (in other words, butt) get torn inside out by none other than his mother? Of course, me.

Standing by the entrance of the mega supermarket with bustling shoppers passing by, was not an ideal place to have an argument with your son, but who cares if the person who is getting told off by their mom is none other than Angelo? Definitely not me.

LOL happy days of shopping are here again, yay!

“I fly all the way from Mexico to America to discover my grown up child of let’s see...18?19?20?...Noooo...21 years old...yes 21, people... still needing a maid. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has to help you zip up your fly after you go to the toilet. You’re standing there not the least bothered of what I am telling you and I’m not even sure anything that I’m saying is going through to that head of yours. I’ve tried my best to be a good mother and teach you how to be responsible for yourself, I think I deserve to be angry or am I overreacting?”

“Yes you are over-”

Angelo’s mother ‘s heavily accented voice, cut back the beginning of a smartass response from his defiant son, “Don’t answer me back when I’m speaking to you! Has all the respect gone out the window since you came to this country?”

Sara’s back was towards me, so I could not really see the reactions on her face on the cheek her son had to defy her. Her tall, tense posture and the firm, angry tone that she directed at Buttbag let me know that she was very well annoyed. Her balled up fists were rested on her slim, curvy waist that was impressive for a mother of two, which was now making me feel very envious of her well-kept figure unlike mine. Her long, black, straight hair was pulled into a tight ponytail and reached down her mid back which contrasted with my very nappy head, that even sometimes a perm can’t fix. I’m such a jealous bitch right now.

“...consider how she felt?”

Erm...who’s she? Please don’t let it be me, I don’t want to involve myself in this mother-son argument. I’m quite just fine where I am just watching the show roll on.

I guess I wasn’t going to get what I want, as Sara finished her sentence she turned around to face me and on impulse I fliched. It seemed everytime I saw those scars on her face it was like cold water been poured on me unexpectedly. Her face shocks me. Her face was such a stark contrast to when I saw her from the back. It was like trying to put two pieces together that do not fit. I see Sara from the back and think , ‘damn I wish I looked like her’, and then when I see her face, it’s like seeing pain and damage staring right at you. It hits me harder than I anticipate.

“Chica are you okay?”

Urgh, damn me and my staring.

Snapping myself out of my new habit of gawking at Sara, I responded, “Yes, I am, did you just say something?”

Smiling at me she responded, “Yes, I was just asking my son over here if he considered your feelings when he made you his maid.”

I guess I left the bit out of me damaging his son’s car and that’s why he hired me as a maid as an alternative option to paying him back. Oh well, what she don’t know won’t hurt her. I want to be kept in her good books. It feels reallygood making Angelo to be the bad guy.

Talking of the Buttbag himself, who was looking as coolly as ever as if his mother words hadn’t penetrated into his head and getting told off by his mum (who I think was quite an entertaining drama queen) was of the norm. He wore a blue and black checked cardigan along with a pair of black jeans and on his foot blue converses. Damn, he looked good. The expression on his face as he looked anywhere but at his mum, was one that read ‘Cant be arsed with this shit’. I know, what a rudeboy. He was still standing next to the alarm gates, with his hands in his pockets because not even three steps into the supermarket Sara had started her rant over his despicable behaviour.

“Mom, I told you, me and her have an agreement and she is-”

“MOOOOM, I’m booooored!”

Three heads including mine, twisted to identify the new voice that had interrupted Angelo, was a very bored-looking Robinho standing next to his big brother. How could I have not noticed him? He looked exactly like a mini-Angelo. He was wearing similar clothes with his older sibling and I could tell this boy already knew the definition of swag and he was going to be trouble with the girls when he’s older.