Blinding Mirror Page 4

  Out of the corner of her eye Oliva saw something shiny and in a horrifying instant realized it was a pair of scissors. She knew what was coming and began to struggle to get up but she was no match for the massive poundage of her mother holding her down.

  “Be still!” shouted Inès.

  “Mom, no! Please! I promise I won’t do it again! I promise! Mom, please!”

  “Shut up!” She leaned down and held the sharp points of the scissors to Oliva’s face. “If you don’t be still I swear to God I will cut your face. How would you like that?”

  When Oliva heard this, she stopped moving. She couldn’t bear it if something happened to her face. She quickly resigned herself to what was about to happen and she became perfectly still. The tears from earlier didn’t make a reappearance but went back to where they normally resided—locked deep within. She all but physically removed herself from what was happening and became almost like a slightly interested bystander. She saw her father standing in the doorway with his arms folded. She listened to the snipping sound of the scissors as they ate through her long beautiful hair and watched as the strands of hair were tossed in an ever-growing pile next to her.

  It was four-thirty in the morning and guilt interrupted Inès’ quest to fall asleep. It had been years since she had laid a hand on her daughter. The last time was when Oliva was twelve-years-old. Inès was already angry over finding out about another one of Alphonso’s women—this one an old friend of hers, when Oliva accidentally dropped a pot of spaghetti as she was taking it to the refrigerator. It was during a particularly rough period when Alphonso was in between jobs and money was even more scarce. Inès had planned to stretch out the spaghetti to have for dinner the rest of the week. When she saw the contents of the pot splattered on the floor she lost it. She picked up a broom that was nearby and beat Oliva with it until the broom broke in half. She then started in on her with her fists; punching her until Alphonso came in and pulled her off Oliva. She got up later and looked in on Oliva who had gone to bed. That’s when she saw the bruised face, arms and legs. Luckily, Oliva didn’t appear to have any broken bones because that would’ve meant a trip to the hospital and a bunch of questions from the doctors and nurses. She made Oliva stay home from school until the bruises were no longer visible. She told herself from then on she wouldn’t lay a hand on her daughter again and she’d kept that promise until now. One of the reasons she was so anxious to leave her family in Chula Vista was to get away from her brutal father who beat her mercilessly on a regular basis.

  She never wanted to abuse her daughter the way she was but there were those few times that she couldn’t help it; like tonight for instance. When Oliva strutted into the party a storm of jealousy began to brew. She’d certainly taken note of her daughter’s burgeoning beauty over the last few years but it hit her smack dab in the face earlier. She walked into that room as if she owned the world. Every head in the place turned in her direction. Oliva had command of the room and displayed an air of confidence Inès had never seen in her before and she saw all the promise of what she herself never had nor would ever attain. And she hated her daughter for it. She had to teach her a lesson and put her in her place. Especially when she saw the way he looked at her. He even had the nerve to say Oliva was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. He won’t think she’s so sexy now.

  Chapter 9

  Pilar opened the door to greet Oliva and was stunned by what she saw. Oliva was wearing an old skirt and blouse with a scarf on her head. Pilar was about to ask why she was dressed the way she was when she noticed the dead look in Oliva’s eyes. She pulled her inside the house and took her in her arms. She then guided Oliva to the couch.

  “Sweetheart, what happened?”

  “My parents burned all the clothes you bought me,” she replied in an almost robotic tone. “They even burned some of the clothes I’d bought for myself. All I have is what I’ve got on right now.”

  Pilar stared at Oliva, not believing what she was hearing.

  “They burned—why would they do that?!”

  “That’s the kind of people they are. I told they were horrible. I figured you thought I was exaggerating but now you see. And that’s not all they did.” She slowly reached up and slid the scarf off her head, revealing her haphazardly chopped locks that were now about three inches long in some spots and four inches in others.

  “Jesus Christ, Oliva!” She leaned her head into Oliva’s and rocked her gently. She lifted her head and looked at Oliva who was staring straight ahead. She was lost to her at that moment. She was somewhere closed off emotionally. Pilar placed her finger under chin and turned Oliva’s face to her. The eyes staring back her were without a hint of its former spark.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered. She leaned in and pressed her lips into hers. Oliva was unresponsive to her kiss. Pilar pulled away from the kiss and stroked Oliva’s back. She knew other than telling her what happened Oliva didn’t want to talk about it any further and decided not to ask more of the questions swimming in her head. The main one being what kind of monsters was her parents? She noticed Oliva holding something in her hand. It was a photograph.

  “What’s that?”

  Oliva handed it to her. “It was taken at the party. It’ll be a while before my hair is like this again.”

  “You’re so photogenic. Don’t worry. Your hair will grow back before you know it. Can I have this?”

  “Yes. I brought it for you.’

  “Thank you. It’s going to be okay, baby. I promise.” She stood up and grabbed Oliva’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Just come on.”

  Oliva sat in the beauty chair as the hairstylist tried to correct the damage done to her hair. She wasn’t the least bit optimistic. She was devastated that her long locks were gone. “Oliva, I think you’re going to love what Frances has done with your hair.”

  Oliva glanced up at Pilar, not believing her. The stylist Frances then twirled the chair around to face the mirror. Oliva was a little pleased. It looked much better than it did when she first sat down in the chair. Frances cut it into a very nice style. Still, it couldn’t compare with her former flowing tresses.

  “Sweetie, you look like Dorothy Hamill! It’s simply adorable!”

  “It is quite cute.”

  “Quite cute?” repeated Pilar. She went and stood directly behind Oliva and their eyes met in the mirror. Pilar put her hands underneath Oliva’s chin and caressed the sides of her face with her thumbs. “Baby, you look beautiful. This style makes you look so classy and mature. It may be your mother did you a favor.”

  “Thanks,” Oliva mumbled. She squirmed a little in the chair, uncomfortable with Pilar’s public display of affection and endearments.

  “Now let’s go replenish your wardrobe.”

  Oliva’s face finally brightened.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I thought that would perk you up.”

  “But what if they did what they did last night.”

  “You’ll keep them in the closet of my spare room.”

  “Sweet. Thank you, Pilar.”

  Chapter 10

  Carlos furiously stroked himself as he moved closer on the verge of orgasm.

  “Carlos!” Maribel shouted from the top of the cellar stairs. “I need you to help me hang this picture! You know I can never hang it evenly like you do!”

  Carlos stopped masturbating at the sound of her voice. It’s like she knows what I’m coming down here to do. She never bugs me until she sees me heading down here. I’ve been upstairs for four hours and the moment I…

  “I’ll be up there in a minute, Mari!”

  Maribel stood listening for a moment.

  “Well hurry up!” She turned to go back into the kitchen. “Dirty beast,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Carlos looked back at his new Playboy magazine featuring Miss August, Dorothy Stratten. Other than Oliva, no other woman brought forth the lust in his loi
ns like Dorothy. What a beauty she was—full mouth, shiny blonde hair and curvaceous body. Maribel was painfully thin and though he loved her, her lack of curves did nothing to inspire him to make love to her. He began to massage himself again. This time he thought of the other object of his desire. Oh, that Oliva is a hot one. Those small but firm tits and perfect ass. Mmmm, I bet her chocha’s just as good as her mother’s. Actually even better—nice and tight. Last night I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She could be a Playboy model too if she wanted. I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. Even though there was something scary about her, I’d still fuck the hell out of her. Old Inès didn’t like it when I whispered to her how sexy her daughter was. I had too many beers and didn’t know better. She gave me such an evil look I hope she’ll still meet me at the motel tomorrow. Yeah, when I bang that fat pussy I’m going to be picturing Oliva. Oliva. You sexy little wench. You try and pretend you don’t want this dick but I know you do. I’m going to give it to you, too. I’ll be covering your mouth to stifle your screams when you come, just like I do Inès. I’ll—I’ll—

  Carlos swallowed the groan bubbling in his throat as his seed oozed out and dripped down his hand. After a few moments of collecting his thoughts he reached over and picked up an old rag next to the milk crate he was sitting on. He used the same rag to clean himself the last two visits down to the cellar. He pulled up his pants and started for the stairs.

  As Carlos entered the kitchen, Maribel eyed him with distaste.

  “The picture is sitting against the wall in the living room,” she informed him. “When you go to visit your cousin in El Segundo you’d better not forget to bring back those sconces she promised me. I’ll put them on either side of the picture.”

  Carlos walked to the living with Maribel close on his heels. She certainly knows how to finagle things out of people, he thought.

  “You won’t believe this.”

  Carlos stifled a sigh. Maribel enjoyed filling his ears with the latest chisme. She always prepared him with the opening phrase, “You won’t believe this.”

  “What won’t I believe now?”

  “I saw Oliva today at the salon.”

  Carlos’s ears immediately perked up at the name.

  “And?”

  “All of her hair was gone!”

  He almost dropped the hammer he’d just picked up from the table.

  “What do you mean her hair is gone?!” He hoped he either misunderstood or his wife was wrong. One of the sexiest things about Oliva was her waist-length hair. He always fantasized about what it would feel like to trail over his body.

  “I saw it with my own eyes. I went to Ruby’s Salon with Sherry while she got her hair done and I saw Oliva with that young woman who moved in the old Garcia place. I found out her name is Pilar. I don’t think Oliva saw me though. Anyway, she came in looking like her hair got caught in a meat grinder or something.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, all of that long hair was gone.” Maribel’s reply was accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk. “Frances sure didn’t have much to work with. Oh, and she had on some old rags,” she added with a touch glee. “She didn’t have on those hot mama clothes she had on last night. Without the clothes and the hair she’s nothing special at all really.”

  Carlos didn’t say anything but doubted that to be true. He knew her comments stemmed from envy. Oliva still had the same body and face so she was still a beauty. But there was no doubt the hair and clothes were a nice addition to the package. I wonder what the heck happened. Inès! I know she’s behind this!

  “Something funny is going on between Oliva and that Pilar,” said Maribel.

  “Funny how?”

  “It was the way she was touching Oliva. It was, I don’t know. The way a man touches a woman.” She glanced at her husband sharply. “You know. The way you used to touch me.”

  “Oh come on, Mari. I still touch you!”

  “Right. You mean like on our anniversary or my birthday? Anyhow, it was like that. You don’t think they’re marimachas do you? As far as I know Oliva has never had a boyfriend and she’s 18-years-old. I was married at that age. She’s an odd girl so I wouldn’t be surprised if she was—you know—that way. Poor Alphonso and Inès. I would die if one of our kids were queer.”

  Carlos hammered the nail into the wall and tuned out his wife. Oliva can’t be a pata! Mari has it all wrong and is reading into things. But what if she isn’t? That would explain why no matter how sweet I am to that girl she turns her nose up at me. I know I’m not the young buck I used to be but there’s still crowing left in this rooster. If she’s what Mari thinks she is, one night with me would set her right.

  “I’m going to take Señora Sanchez something to eat. She’s still laid up from her surgery. I’ll probably sit and visit with her for a few before coming back home.”

  Maribel waited for a response from her husband but there was none. He looked like he was in another world. With an exasperated cluck of her tongue, she turned on her heels and walked back to the kitchen.

  Chapter 11

  Oliva felt good for the first time that day as she hung up her new clothes. It was only a band-aid for the wound she suffered the night before yet it was an effective one. Pilar had gotten out her charge card and replaced all the clothes she’d bought for Oliva before and then some. She had a wide assortment of jeans, skirts and blouses. When things died down at home she would bring some of the clothes home. Although she was starting to like her short hairstyle more every time she looked in the mirror, she still missed her hair. The new hairstyle did make her look older and a little more sophisticated but it didn’t compare…

  After she finished hanging up the clothes she joined Pilar in the living room. She was standing by the record player, pulling her most played Amàlia album from its sleeve. Soon the room was filled with voice of the singer Oliva had also come to love. Pilar sat on the couch and patted the space next to her for Oliva. When Oliva sat down she reached for one of the wine glasses Pilar had set out on the table.

  “Thanks again for the clothes. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “You don’t repay gifts, my love. Your happiness is enough for me. Now let’s talk about our future plans. I think it’ll be safe for me to get back on the scene in another few months.”

  “A few months?” Oliva asked, disappointed. “I was hoping we could leave sooner.”

  “Patience, darling. I need to make sure my situations have cooled. I’m just as anxious to leave here as you are–trust me. But it’s all about timing. Now here’s my plan. In Los Angeles there’s a good mark for you. Valente Construction is a company headed by Anton and Gino. I’ve done my homework on them and these guys are loaded. They own buildings across the country and they’ve been building malls like crazy. Now how are your secretarial skills such as typing and filing?”

  “I’ve taken typing in school. I’ve never filed but I know my ABC’s so that should be no problem. Why?”

  “From what I’ve heard Gino would be the better target because he’s more a soft touch. It’s kind of known that any woman with a sob story will get his sympathy and money. If you can get in his secretarial pool and try to get as much time as you can, I guarantee you he’ll be yours before you know it. What’s the faraway look for?”

  “I’m going to have to sleep with him, aren’t I?”

  “Eventually,” Pilar replied with a laugh. “You’ve never been with a man before have you?”

  “Nope. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  “You have to do everything, just not all at once. You want a man to think you haven’t been around too much even when you’ve gotten experienced. Therefore you have to be coy in the beginning and gradually loosen up into this wild beast they think they’ve unleashed. Men want to be the one to stake the flag in the bedroom. They love to hear, ‘I’ve never felt this way before’. Or ‘no one has ever made me feel this good’. Did you read those manuals I gave you last week?”

&
nbsp; “Yes, I don’t know if I can do those things, Pilar.”

  “You will if you want to keep your rich man happy and living the good life. Do you want that?”

  “More than anything.”

  “If you want that more than anything you have to be willing to do anything.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day with my brother.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “He’s a character all right—a real ladies man. I don’t know how but he is.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Let’s just say he got short-changed on the looks genes in our family. He’s not ugly by any means, just nothing special. I guess his smooth words and money help him out in the women department.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He has a company that imports and exports goods to and from places all over the world. Our father actually had to go to him for help in an investment venture. Oh! This song is so beautiful! I can hear a million times and never get tired of it.”

  Oliva tilted her head as she listened to the song “Meu Amor, Meu Amor”. Pilar stood up and grabbed her by the hand.

  “You’ve got to dance with me to this song.”

  Pilar and Oliva wrapped their arms around each other and began to slow dance. Oliva closed her eyes and laid her head on Pilar’s shoulder. The trauma she felt from the events of the night before were temporarily suspended while she was in Pilar’s arms. There was no place she would rather have been than where she was at that moment.