Page 5 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

But…shecameto you. She sought out mentorshipbyyou. So why does this feel like a bad idea?

Sierra Medina…she wouldn’t have been my first choice. But she was in proximity and willing to train with a man who’d lost his last fight. And from here, could be the one thing standing between us and losingHouse of Beast.

* Listen to me, shut your mouth already

* Shit!

CHAPTER THREE

Sierra

Silencing the buzz of my vibrating alarm, I did my best to hide the crust from crying so much in my sleep. It’d only been a few days since receiving the soul-crushing news, that after selling my car, most the things my abuela had left me, I’d really given up so much on the strength that I would meet Josue Mendez, and he’d be so bewildered by my commitment, he’d agree to train me. Come to find out, he doesn’t even train women. They say never meet your idols, right?

My luck hadn’t completely run out. At least for the next six weeks, I had a roof over my head. I could’ve ended up anywhere. Josue Mendez’s gym I knew would lead me nowhere but Newark, but I’d had about two other potential people I could have sought. But stretching across two states I had never been before, I doubt winning the lottery bed at a women’s shelter would have been my result had I tried for MA or CT.

It was probably about the only break I’d caught since losing custody of my daughter. My first day in New Jersey, I would’ve had enough to consider a hostel for a couple of days, but I must’ve been resting on some good karma, because upongoogling nearby shelters in the area, I walked in, put my name on a list, and before I could walk out, was told I’d won a bed.

Women’s shelters weren’t that great back home, or at least the ones I’d seen in Philly. But this particular women’s shelter wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was because they offloaded the labor of its upkeep on the temporary residents, but honestly, we were receiving food and shelter, so I didn’t see it as a waste of my time to be given assignments.

It was just a little nerve wrecking the first day. Sometimes I wasn’t always hyperaware of how people viewed me while in an abusive relationship. I was convinced I hardly wore the stress of surviving domestic violence, but being in proximity of women who had experienced the same things or worse, I wanted to kick myself for pretending no one around me noticed. Or at least no one who cared.

A loud, yet soothing sound went off, signaling it was the first alarm to ensure residents were aware it was 5:45 in the morning. You couldn’t sleep in at a place like this, but after weeks of exhaustion, it was just a relief to finally feel safe for once.

“Better get up before the Mrs. Krabs reminds us we better be up by eight,” Hydee whined, one of my three roommates.

“I’m gonna go five more minutes, I think it’s worth it after Daylights Savings,” Sheyla turned over, my only other roomie with kids of her own.

“I’m going to get dibs on the showers, I have to meet my caseworker today and I don’t want to make a bad impression,” I rushed out of bed, bringing my small plastic bag to line up for the bathroom showers. The later you got up, the longer you had to wait, and getting a case worker to see me this soon, I was told wasn’t common. I needed as much guidance as I could getting another place again if I was going to be stuck here and from what I knew, they could help you with that. I wouldn’t have the safetynet of this forever, but I was going to take any opportunity I had available to me.

After showering and fixing my makeup, I hobbled back to my shared room, not surprised to see all three of my roommates awake this time. Let’s see, there was Sheyla. Like me, I think she’d lost custody of her kids, but I knew not the rhyme or reason, just when I’d met her, she’d been sporting a black eye, so I didn’t even want to downplay why she was here. She may have been in her thirties, I think. I’d only been here a couple days, but I thought that’s what she said while introducing herself. You would just never know because with her strong indigenous features, I thought she’d been younger.

Hydee and Rocki were the babies of the roommate situation. They were still learning that so much of their traumas started with their mothers, and I couldn’t help thinking with Rocki, there was added on trauma there, because she’d been here just a day before me and still hadn’t stopped limping.

But that was where most their similarities ended. Where Hydee was outgoing and chatty, Rocki was more reserved and kept to herself. I, myself, tried to make the most of what I was being given. I was alive. I had my health. I was out of a bad situation. The best I could do was see the brighter side of being homeless and having almost no plan.

But that would change once I spoke to my case worker this morning. I just had to find my fight card, so I’d have proof I was working. “What are you looking for?” Hydee jumped on my bed, as I was tearing apart my dresser.

“I need my fight card for Saturday just in case my case worker asks for proof of employment,” relieved when I found it stuck between two shirts.

“Mamá, you couldn’t pay me to get hit in the face. Especially when my ass was doing it for free,” Sheyla said out loud, which had come out curter than I think the comment was meant to be,but given her trauma, I gave it a pass.Iwouldn’t joke about DV, but everyone coped differently.

“I’m not just getting paid to get hit in the face. I’m getting paid to actually try andwinthe fight,” I explained. I hadn’t expected anyone who didn’t do this for a living to get it, but legitimizing it didn’t cost anything.

“But you’re so pretty. Why would you want to do that?” Hydee questioned.

“Aw, no one can really compare to you,” I flattered her, mostly because she reminded me of what my daughter could look like if she were nineteen. She had pretty dark skin, or at least darker than mine, and small set eyes that made me think of Mónica every time I looked at her smile.

That was my daughter’s name. Mónica. I struggled with at first whether I wanted to make things easier and drop the accent, so her name wouldn’t get mispronounced. But when I got my life together and could properly have her in my life again, I was going to teach her the importance of forcing people to say your name the right way. Every single time.

“I can’t talk long. I was going to take advantage of breakfast and right after that is my meeting with my case worker—” as I rushed to find a place to sit in the dining hall where they typically served the breakfast, lunch and dinner, an option that wasn’t privileged to just the residents, but women and mothers with mouths to feed. Shelter food was never going to be perfect, but if I had Mónica with me, I would’ve definitely been taking advantage of that resource. It was too hard out there.

Silently, Hydee and Rocki had made room near me, or at least by the table I was sharing, choosing to indulge in the free breakfast too. It wasn’t like we were close; we’d known each other less than a week. But I was grateful to have roommates that didn’t snore, or thrive in unnecessary drama. Most of all, I was afraid that being a mom, I wouldn’t relate to theyounger two, but something magical happened when Black girls assembled. I couldn’t explain it into words, but even across diaspora, I felt kinship there.

***

“So, Sierra Medina? What are your goals before you leave Alexa's Place?” Blessing Ekuba, the caseworker assigned to me asked. She was really stern, but in a good way. Like she was trying not to get too familiar with residents since they always came and went.

“I just want to get back custody of my daughter. I want a place, but if there was something that was a priority, it would be getting her back. She’s with my ex’s mom at the moment. And don’t get me wrong, she’s been great until I get back on my feet. Her father’s not really around much, so I at least want to provide for her,” I admitted.