CHAPTER 21

Wrapping my arms around my torso, I curled my whole body tighter in a ball as the pressing pain in my lower abdominals got more intense. It was definitely not a good day for me. I couldn't cancel out on Sara, because, I just couldn't. It was Sara, no explanation needed.

The ache having lessened, I got up off my bed and more like staggered to the bathroom. I was so thankful that my mum had been able to pay off the gas bill or that would have meant me making the effort to boil water in the kettle, pour it in the bucket and then mixing it with cold water. I brushed my teeth and then quickly entered the shower booth. The hot burst of water spraying on my back and belly certainly did me good.

After ten or so minutes, I dried myself off and went back to my room to get dressed. There was already a text message from Sara saying that she was on her way over to me. I was going through my bag just to make sure I had put in all my necessities when something caught my eye. Opening the small packet, I took out the information leaflet and briefly read through it. It's advantages would most definitely favour me in the state that I was, but then I considered the disadvantages which included weight gain - definitely not what I needed. Unable to make a firm decision, I threw the contraceptive pills back into my bag and thought to myself that if the pains got any worse, I would consider taking it.

Moments later, I heard a car horn and for sure it was Sara. After saying bye to my dad and Bobby who were having breakfast, I left my house.

"Chica, we're going to have so much fun today!" announced Sara excitedly as I put on my seatbelt (not wanting a repeat of what happened last time when I didn't.)

"Are we?"
"Of course we are", she responded before zooming off like a madwoman.

She had been able to convince or maybe more like command Angelo to give me the day off and for that I was truly grateful. She was definitely my guardian angel.

I couldn't even look at her son without feeling the strong need to punch him, one for how hard he had worked me over the past three days and two, because he was avoiding me. Even when he texted me on what needed to be done there was none of his usual conceitedness - no lie, I sadly missed that.

I just didn't understand his sudden change of character and it was starting to get on my nerves. So in my head Sara taking me out shopping to 'woo' her son was pretty much a pointless exercise.

Ten minutes later we found ourselves at the department store where most of the stores were designer. Sara dragged me into one of them excitedly because she saw a displayed dress that she liked. That was a major concern for me since I had a very limited budget. Sara was all too busy in her own world, sifting through hangers, holding a few against my body, to notice the stares she garnered from near-by shoppers. That bothered me a lot. Yes that sounded hypocritical of me since I had done the same thing when I had first met her, but it was just like they were judging her without actually knowing her.

"Luciana what do you think about this one?" asked Sara as she held up a long, elegant white gown for me to see.

"Hmm...It's a bit too simple for me", I said after eyeing the price tag and seeing it was into the thousands.

Turning the dress both sides before hanging the over-expensive dress back on the rack, she agreed, "You're right chica, let's go to another store."

That was the routine for the next two hours; we would go into a store or rather I was dragged into one and then I would give an excuse of why I did not like the dresses, Sara would agree and then we would go to another one.

However the more times we would enter a new store, the more increasingly infuriated I was starting to become because of the blatant stares, whispers, pointed fingers and a few giggles I noticed aimed at Sara and the thing was they didn't even try to hide it. These shops were mainly stuffed with upper-class, upper-rich, upper-snobbish, stuck -up tight asses who covered their ugly personality with their seemingly perfect body features. Sara on the other hand seemed unaware and that really got me angry at how cruel people could be.

Breathing deeply to calm the urge to slap the plastic and insensitivity out of the two bitchy staffs that were in charge of the changing rooms, I smiled at an awaiting Sara showing her the eighth dress she had asked me to change into.

The dress in question was an aqua blue ball gown that reached above my knees with silver crystals sprinkled at the hem. It made me look all the more bigger around my hips and I wasn't in the mood for showing leg, so the dress was a big no-no. Sara on the other hand seemed to have a contrary opinion.

"Lucy you must get this dress and look it's only $200 this is very good price!" she said clapping her hands with excitement.

Only in Sara's world did two hundred dollars for a dress seem like a 'very good price'.

"Sara, I don't like this dress", I mumbled scared of what she might say.

"What d'you mean you don't like the dress? Every shop we've gone to there has been nothing you've liked. This dress looks absolutely beautiful on you" she said then proceeded to kiss her fingers for emphasis, "it brings out your complexion so I don't understand why you don't like it."

I don't know what it was but I think it was her Spanish accent that made her seem all the more intimidating and that's why for a moment I stood there foolishly, my eyes glued to the white plush carpeting of the changing room, whilst I fiddled with the dress.

Softly sighing, Sara said, "Go get changed chica, we can continue looking for a dress after we get some food. Estoy hambriento."

"Pardon?"

"I'm hungry. Now hurry up chica."

A few minutes later I came out the changing room with all eight dresses and handed it over to one of the bitches at the entrance of the changing rooms. As Sara and I began to walk away, I heard from behind me, "I thought I was going to puke if I had to see that woman's face any longer."

Thunder, fire and lightning seemed to pounce on me at once, fuelling me to do some serious damage but just as quickly, Sara's hand grasped my wrists. "Let it go."

"But-"

"No."

With burning rage that was ready to rip me apart I had no choice to but to be led out by Sara.

It was only when we arrived at the place that provided me the most happiness, otherwise known as the food court, that I became slightly settled. Only slightly. Sara on the other hand looked as chirpy as ever and seemed to have forgotten what happened all together. Mumbling to herself that she needed 'break from Spanish food' she ordered for burger and fries, whilst I only ordered for fries knowing it'd probably trigger more cramps, but whatever.

"Doesn't it bother you how people stare at you and say mean things about how you look?" I asked after we sat down to eat.

"Is it supposed to bother me?"

Feeling uneasy by her steady gaze on me as she munched on her fries, I said, "I don't know. It'd bother me."

From the amount of stares that she received in the time I spent with her, it would have been enough to make me never come out the house, if I was her. I just didn't understand how she could be okay with people intentionally trying to make her feel bad about herself.

I knew from the shit I faced in school of how words and people's actions could easily penetrate into someone's head and make them believe the negativity.

"I'll be honest, it did bother me at first - not anymore", I heard Sara say as she took a sip of her ice tea.

"I don't know if you know this , but I'm an actress, I'm more known in Spain. Anyway something like this", she said pointing to her face, "is the worst thing that could happen to someone who's living is made from being in front of the camera."

"For the first two months or so after the accident, I stayed at home. Only the doctor who changed my dressing really got to see my face and I refused to have any mirrors around me. But then, I had like an epiphany that I should be grateful to Dios that I didn't die. My children were going to grow up with their mother around and my husband still with a wife. It wasn't the end of the world, people have it worse. You understand chica?"

"Yes I do."

"Good. I know who I am and I comfortable with it. I'd rather be called beautiful based on how I make others feel than what's on my face."

Not even five minutes later, she started clearing up her plate. "We still haven't found a dress that you like so you have to hurry up."

After nearly being force fed by Sara herself we had exited the food court and we were strolling around the mall, in random directions until a shop caught Sara's eyes again and she got me to go with her, excitement clear on her face.

This shop sold traditional Mexican clothes and the workers were much, much nicer. Actually they seemed to have recognized Sara from one of her movies and they all huddled around her asking for autographs whilst I stood at the side happily watching her soak up the attention. The owner was very much pleased with Sara's presence in his shop and had immediately ordered three of his staff to be assistants to Sara. Speaking now in her native tongue, Sara said something to them whilst pointing at me and I assumed she was asking dresses for me. I wasn't sure I felt about a Mexican dress.

Any uncertainty I felt was cleared off, when I saw the dress that the assistants brought out from their stock room; the bottom half was long, ruffled layers of different colours cascading down, whilst the top half was black in the chest area but its short sleeves were puffed up into different layers of colours. I immediately fell in love with it.

"You like it chica?" asked Sara with a knowing smile on her face.

After getting the dress, which Sara had demanded I let her pay saying it was my Christmas present from her and it would be rude for me not to accept it, we had left the shop and were finally after nearly four hours of searching, able to leave the mall.

But then Sara smacked her head and said, "Oh I forgot chica, we haven't bought the shoes to go with the dress and we need to get manis and pedis. The New Year's Party is tomorrow, no chipped nails allowed."

Lord help me.