angelita looked cute. she always did. just about any look she had looked utterly adorable and instantly mami’s heart grew warm at the sight. she could imagine things were rather tough for noa. she rode in here with a broken heart, a swollen belly; no home, no more family. death was riding on her back with blazing saddles and mami knew that all quite well. women of betrayal at the hands of men was a strong thing to bond over, even if mami never spoke of her own bitterness towards them.
but on the other hand. having her baby by her side in the moment when her hunger gets the better of her feels like a slap to the face. just because she has a child means she gets special treatment? what about the men who spend all day exerting themselves trying to get the food for them all to eat? what about mami herself? who spends few moments actually to herself because she’s busy keeping everyone alive? she doesn’t pick at the scraps. these were tough times for everyone. sympathy for noa runs deep with bitterness and she’s constantly teetering back and forth. maybe if there wasn’t blood up to her elbows and she was already particularly stressed over the whispers of the weeks to come, she’d be more docile with her hound companion.
today she was caught in a void between.
“i’d happily do it with your daughter elsewhere.” she says plainly, her eyes back to running the knife under the flesh of the beast, a swift motion as she left out a sigh. “take one.” she finally caves. “but i have this under control.” and if her arms were covered in crimson, she might think to pinch the cheeks of angelita and coo, but she couldn’t, so she kept her eyes down. “there’s some fresh pelts by my tent you could make something for angelita. rabbit suits her well.” she cracks a smile, albeit small, to show some sign of solidarity.
mami meant a lot to noa, but there was an unspoken tension between them. it she had taken the time to look at it, head on--without the filter of sorority she bore for the woman--she might’ve seen more clearly the pain that her motherhood wrought upon the other woman. mami was a good woman, hearty and considerate, but she was still a woman. it was she whom noa trusted most with angelita.
it was that same woman she would entrust with angelita’s life if god ever decided to send death back to claim her and leave her sweet daughter an orphan. there was no one else, far as she was concerned, who was up for the task and--though the men doted on angelita as surely as the women--a girl needed a mother more than anything in this world. she only hoped mami knew, without noa having told her, should the time come because the request always seemed to die in her throat before the words ever come to pass.
noa doesn’t laugh at the statement, though she thinks it’s an approximation of a joke or else the embodiment of some unspoken frustration mami has yet to take out on the carcass before her. she knows better than to ask are you sure? when offered the morsel, which is an insult to both mami’s offer and her intelligence. instead, she pauses respectfully and thanks her with sincerity.
“i appreciate it.” she tacks on as she rolls the meat before thumb and forefinger. “she could use the extra warmth; you’re right.” even though it was getting warmer by the day, angelita was growing and outgrowing her pelts as quickly. “my mother was a seamstress--have i told you that?” she asks, tearing off a small bite of meat and chewing it over. “wasn’t til i joined up with y’all that i really learned how lucky i was to learn that skill myself.” she had been a silly girl who’d thought she could be a silly wife to a rich man. what a lifetime ago that seemed.
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