Post by jbgarnerwrites on Apr 8, 2020 1:09:25 GMT
Alejandra Alicea lets out a deep and abiding sigh, her cell with the speakerphone on sitting on the second-hand dresser that graced the wall of her new bedroom in Orlando, Florida.
Most of the rest of the apartment is already set up. It had taken her two days’ straight, but she is almost done. Her open closet is filled with hung clothes, everything from some slinky dresses set for a party, several sets of red, white, and blue Puerto-Rico-inspired ring gear, to a good dozen uniforms. A visual history of Alejandra’s work life, from the maid uniform to the mechanic’s jumpsuit to the farmer’s overalls to the hot pants and cut-off t-shirt from the car wash.
Alongside her phone, still on the charger, her dresser is covered in picture frames and an open toolbox. Not one of those disorganized home kits that someone ignorant of how to do household repairs might keep. Alejandra’s is organized and well-used, ready for everything from building a chair to tuning up a car’s engine.
As for the pictures, they run a gamut. Some are clearly of the Latina Spitfire’s family: her mother, Maria, her father, Valentino, her three older brothers, Pablo, Mateo, and Adolfo. But just as many, if not more, depict Alejandra, in the same work uniforms filling her closet, taking pictures with co-workers, all smiling and happy despite the sweat and grime of hard work on their faces.
“No, mamá, everything’s fine,” Alejandra says at last. She slides the stud detector along the plain white wall as she shakes her long, silky black hair out of her eyes. “I’ve got this all under control.”
Her mother’s voice, clearly an older Latina with more accented English than her daughter, echoes over the speaker. “You always say that, Alejandra.” The Puerto Rican Spitfire can clearly hear the combination of love, concern, and the universal favorite of all parents everywhere, judgment. “Moving from the island to the mainland is a big deal, mi hija, and your first match in FAWN is coming, and…” Her voice trails off for a moment. “I bet you moved everything in yourself, didn’t you?”
Alejandra resists the urge to cluck her tongue, roll her eyes, or let out another sigh. Maria Alicea is her darling mother, and her entire family was always a wellspring of support for the young Latina grappler, ever since she set her sights on entering the squared circle years ago. She needs to show her mother that much respect at the very least.
“Yes, mamá, I did.” Aha, there’s the other stud. Alejandra marked it with a carpenter’s pencil. “I could handle it. Why should I waste money I could be sending home on some movers?” She stands and turns to where the chin-up bar was already out of its box on the bed, hardware neatly laid out beside it with a screwdriver. “Besides, it was a great work-out.”
While Alejandra resisted clucking her tongue, Maria does not. She does so. Twice. Loudly. “Alejandra! When will you learn to use help when you can? I bet you that this big fancy mainland wrestling company would have gladly paid to move you in!” Another cluck which feels like a poke in the fit Latina’s ribs. “Or even gotten you a fully furnished apartment. They see your talent or else they wouldn’t have given you that contract.”
“Maaaaai!” The normally composed wrestler can’t keep a faint whine from her voice as she picks up the bar in one hand and scoops up the hardware and screwdriver in the other. “I am not going to annoy my new employers, the ones taking a big risk on me, I might add, by asking for things I don’t need.”
Her mother simply sighs as Alejandra lines up the bar on the marks she had made. Maria knows the truth, after all, and that is, despite all the protestations, Alejandra Alicea is proud. Most of the time, that pride was a strength. It carried her daughter from a slender slip of a girl with a crazy dream to become a wrestler to the muscular, powerful, confident woman who had won a regional championship before being snapped up by the big leagues.
But at other times, her daughter’s pride is a horrible weakness. Never one to ask for help when she thought she could make her way on her own, Maria remembers far too many times when she or Valentino were the ones patching up Alejandra when she pushed herself too far in training… or watched her carried out of a match on a stretcher when she punched above her limit.
Silence reigned for a long few moments as Maria collects her thoughts and arguments. Only the sounds of Alejandra screwing the chin-up bar into place. At least her daughter had learned to be good with her hands, just another side-effect of her prideful desire to fend for herself.
“Well, have you made any friends yet?” Maria ventures. “You know, I watch those FAWN shows, especially since they approached you about your contract.” She pauses for a moment, because she simply isn’t sure if this is even a smart topic to bring up. But… a mother has to do what a mother has to do. “It’s so much… more… dangerous in some ways than anything you’ve done down here, mi hija, and… well, there must be some nice girls in the locker room who could…”
“Help?” Alejandra almost strips the final screw as she uses a bit too much of her considerable strength to crank on it. “Mai, I don’t need—”
“You do.” Her mother’s words are firm but filled with love. “You showed me the contracts, and while I may just be an old lady who cleans up after tourists—”
Alejandra’s eyes go wide in protest. “Mamá, you are so much more than—”
“Now, now, Alejandra,” Maria gently pushes through the protest. “I know what I am, and there’s no shame in doing hard work like that. My point is, I know what can happen in that ring. And while I know I can’t convince you to simply be content with how things were here in Puerto Rico… I also want you to be safe.” Her voice lightens, and Alejandra can hear the smile come to her mother’s voice. “What about a boyfriend then? Maybe you can get some sexy man to be your… what do they call them?... valets?”
Alejandra tossed the screwdriver onto the floral-patterned comforter on her bed. She had splurged on a queen-sized bed, ostensibly just to have more room to sprawl, but her mother’s words remind her of other reasons.
“No, mai.” The Latina’s tone is firm as she rolls her muscular shoulders. “The last time I had a boyfriend, well, you remember.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “It didn’t work out so well.”
Maria laughs in amusement. “Oh, I remember! I remember when you broke his arm, but he was a pig. He deserved it, but that doesn’t mean…” She sighs. “A girlfriend, then? You could always see if Alma would be interested in moving State-side?”
Her eyes locked on the chin-up bar, Alejandra’s full lips frown slightly as memories of Alma Rodriguez flood her mind. Beautiful, kind-hearted, with a curvy body, bronze skin, and sandy brown hair. She was, is, a lifeguard at one of the resorts in Bayamon, and for a year, the two were inseparable. But in the end, well…
“You know that won’t work.” Alejandra shook her head to snap out of her memories, then reaches up to grab a firm grip of the bar. “We broke up a year ago. She couldn’t take some of the… baggage… of what I do.”
Alma’s kind heart was a bit too kindly. After a year of regularly seeing her girlfriend in the ring, in triumph but just as often in pain, cared for her through injuries, she just couldn’t take it anymore. That is just one more reason why Alejandra always watches out for herself in the end. As much as she loves her family, honors her friends, respects her people, in the end, she will always be the only one she can rely on.
To push the thoughts out of her head, Alejandra hops up, snatches the chin-up bar, and gives it a good testing. Her chiseled arms flex and curl, her athletic body moving in perfect, honed motions.
“Maybe that won’t work,” Maria continues, “but that doesn’t mean you should go it alone. There will come a time, Alejandra Valentina Maria Alicea, when you will realize you need help, and you won’t have it because you didn’t reach out to others.” As any good mother can, she lays on equal doses of guilty and love, and before she can keep going, Alejandra drops down from the bar and lets out the sigh that has been building up for minutes now.
“Alright mamá, alright!” the Latina Spitfire pleads under the parental onslaught. “I’ll… I’ll keep my eyes open, okay? You know me, I won’t be some antisocial freak hiding in their apartment all day working out.” She shrugs, even though the camera isn’t on so her mother can’t see her. “Maybe some of the other ladies in the locker room will be open to being friends.”
“See?” Maria laughs in relief. “Was that so hard to say?” A deep voice calls from the background. “Ah, it’s your papi. I need to go. We’ll both call next time, okay, mi hija?”
Alejandra picks up the phone and makes a kiss towards to the speaker. “Okay, mamá, give him and my brothers my love. I’ll talk to you later.”
Mara’s own kiss echoes in the speaker before she hangs up, and Alejandra is left in silence with her thoughts and recriminations. She runs a hand through her hair as she sets the phone back on its charger. While she didn’t think she was lying to her mother per se, she still isn’t sure she believes what she just said.
After all these years of going it alone, both in the ring and outside of it, could Alejandra bring herself to open up to anyone? After all, for every alliance in the ring she sees that works out, there is a betrayal, and it wasn’t uncommon for former partners to be the ones to put a wrestler on the shelf.
She sighs and simply decides to push the worries aside. After all, she has bigger things to worry about, like her upcoming debut match, and how she is going to navigate a career to do her people proud.
The rest will come easy… won’t it?
Most of the rest of the apartment is already set up. It had taken her two days’ straight, but she is almost done. Her open closet is filled with hung clothes, everything from some slinky dresses set for a party, several sets of red, white, and blue Puerto-Rico-inspired ring gear, to a good dozen uniforms. A visual history of Alejandra’s work life, from the maid uniform to the mechanic’s jumpsuit to the farmer’s overalls to the hot pants and cut-off t-shirt from the car wash.
Alongside her phone, still on the charger, her dresser is covered in picture frames and an open toolbox. Not one of those disorganized home kits that someone ignorant of how to do household repairs might keep. Alejandra’s is organized and well-used, ready for everything from building a chair to tuning up a car’s engine.
As for the pictures, they run a gamut. Some are clearly of the Latina Spitfire’s family: her mother, Maria, her father, Valentino, her three older brothers, Pablo, Mateo, and Adolfo. But just as many, if not more, depict Alejandra, in the same work uniforms filling her closet, taking pictures with co-workers, all smiling and happy despite the sweat and grime of hard work on their faces.
“No, mamá, everything’s fine,” Alejandra says at last. She slides the stud detector along the plain white wall as she shakes her long, silky black hair out of her eyes. “I’ve got this all under control.”
Her mother’s voice, clearly an older Latina with more accented English than her daughter, echoes over the speaker. “You always say that, Alejandra.” The Puerto Rican Spitfire can clearly hear the combination of love, concern, and the universal favorite of all parents everywhere, judgment. “Moving from the island to the mainland is a big deal, mi hija, and your first match in FAWN is coming, and…” Her voice trails off for a moment. “I bet you moved everything in yourself, didn’t you?”
Alejandra resists the urge to cluck her tongue, roll her eyes, or let out another sigh. Maria Alicea is her darling mother, and her entire family was always a wellspring of support for the young Latina grappler, ever since she set her sights on entering the squared circle years ago. She needs to show her mother that much respect at the very least.
“Yes, mamá, I did.” Aha, there’s the other stud. Alejandra marked it with a carpenter’s pencil. “I could handle it. Why should I waste money I could be sending home on some movers?” She stands and turns to where the chin-up bar was already out of its box on the bed, hardware neatly laid out beside it with a screwdriver. “Besides, it was a great work-out.”
While Alejandra resisted clucking her tongue, Maria does not. She does so. Twice. Loudly. “Alejandra! When will you learn to use help when you can? I bet you that this big fancy mainland wrestling company would have gladly paid to move you in!” Another cluck which feels like a poke in the fit Latina’s ribs. “Or even gotten you a fully furnished apartment. They see your talent or else they wouldn’t have given you that contract.”
“Maaaaai!” The normally composed wrestler can’t keep a faint whine from her voice as she picks up the bar in one hand and scoops up the hardware and screwdriver in the other. “I am not going to annoy my new employers, the ones taking a big risk on me, I might add, by asking for things I don’t need.”
Her mother simply sighs as Alejandra lines up the bar on the marks she had made. Maria knows the truth, after all, and that is, despite all the protestations, Alejandra Alicea is proud. Most of the time, that pride was a strength. It carried her daughter from a slender slip of a girl with a crazy dream to become a wrestler to the muscular, powerful, confident woman who had won a regional championship before being snapped up by the big leagues.
But at other times, her daughter’s pride is a horrible weakness. Never one to ask for help when she thought she could make her way on her own, Maria remembers far too many times when she or Valentino were the ones patching up Alejandra when she pushed herself too far in training… or watched her carried out of a match on a stretcher when she punched above her limit.
Silence reigned for a long few moments as Maria collects her thoughts and arguments. Only the sounds of Alejandra screwing the chin-up bar into place. At least her daughter had learned to be good with her hands, just another side-effect of her prideful desire to fend for herself.
“Well, have you made any friends yet?” Maria ventures. “You know, I watch those FAWN shows, especially since they approached you about your contract.” She pauses for a moment, because she simply isn’t sure if this is even a smart topic to bring up. But… a mother has to do what a mother has to do. “It’s so much… more… dangerous in some ways than anything you’ve done down here, mi hija, and… well, there must be some nice girls in the locker room who could…”
“Help?” Alejandra almost strips the final screw as she uses a bit too much of her considerable strength to crank on it. “Mai, I don’t need—”
“You do.” Her mother’s words are firm but filled with love. “You showed me the contracts, and while I may just be an old lady who cleans up after tourists—”
Alejandra’s eyes go wide in protest. “Mamá, you are so much more than—”
“Now, now, Alejandra,” Maria gently pushes through the protest. “I know what I am, and there’s no shame in doing hard work like that. My point is, I know what can happen in that ring. And while I know I can’t convince you to simply be content with how things were here in Puerto Rico… I also want you to be safe.” Her voice lightens, and Alejandra can hear the smile come to her mother’s voice. “What about a boyfriend then? Maybe you can get some sexy man to be your… what do they call them?... valets?”
Alejandra tossed the screwdriver onto the floral-patterned comforter on her bed. She had splurged on a queen-sized bed, ostensibly just to have more room to sprawl, but her mother’s words remind her of other reasons.
“No, mai.” The Latina’s tone is firm as she rolls her muscular shoulders. “The last time I had a boyfriend, well, you remember.” Her eyes narrow slightly. “It didn’t work out so well.”
Maria laughs in amusement. “Oh, I remember! I remember when you broke his arm, but he was a pig. He deserved it, but that doesn’t mean…” She sighs. “A girlfriend, then? You could always see if Alma would be interested in moving State-side?”
Her eyes locked on the chin-up bar, Alejandra’s full lips frown slightly as memories of Alma Rodriguez flood her mind. Beautiful, kind-hearted, with a curvy body, bronze skin, and sandy brown hair. She was, is, a lifeguard at one of the resorts in Bayamon, and for a year, the two were inseparable. But in the end, well…
“You know that won’t work.” Alejandra shook her head to snap out of her memories, then reaches up to grab a firm grip of the bar. “We broke up a year ago. She couldn’t take some of the… baggage… of what I do.”
Alma’s kind heart was a bit too kindly. After a year of regularly seeing her girlfriend in the ring, in triumph but just as often in pain, cared for her through injuries, she just couldn’t take it anymore. That is just one more reason why Alejandra always watches out for herself in the end. As much as she loves her family, honors her friends, respects her people, in the end, she will always be the only one she can rely on.
To push the thoughts out of her head, Alejandra hops up, snatches the chin-up bar, and gives it a good testing. Her chiseled arms flex and curl, her athletic body moving in perfect, honed motions.
“Maybe that won’t work,” Maria continues, “but that doesn’t mean you should go it alone. There will come a time, Alejandra Valentina Maria Alicea, when you will realize you need help, and you won’t have it because you didn’t reach out to others.” As any good mother can, she lays on equal doses of guilty and love, and before she can keep going, Alejandra drops down from the bar and lets out the sigh that has been building up for minutes now.
“Alright mamá, alright!” the Latina Spitfire pleads under the parental onslaught. “I’ll… I’ll keep my eyes open, okay? You know me, I won’t be some antisocial freak hiding in their apartment all day working out.” She shrugs, even though the camera isn’t on so her mother can’t see her. “Maybe some of the other ladies in the locker room will be open to being friends.”
“See?” Maria laughs in relief. “Was that so hard to say?” A deep voice calls from the background. “Ah, it’s your papi. I need to go. We’ll both call next time, okay, mi hija?”
Alejandra picks up the phone and makes a kiss towards to the speaker. “Okay, mamá, give him and my brothers my love. I’ll talk to you later.”
Mara’s own kiss echoes in the speaker before she hangs up, and Alejandra is left in silence with her thoughts and recriminations. She runs a hand through her hair as she sets the phone back on its charger. While she didn’t think she was lying to her mother per se, she still isn’t sure she believes what she just said.
After all these years of going it alone, both in the ring and outside of it, could Alejandra bring herself to open up to anyone? After all, for every alliance in the ring she sees that works out, there is a betrayal, and it wasn’t uncommon for former partners to be the ones to put a wrestler on the shelf.
She sighs and simply decides to push the worries aside. After all, she has bigger things to worry about, like her upcoming debut match, and how she is going to navigate a career to do her people proud.
The rest will come easy… won’t it?