Nilda

by Nicholasa Mohr

  “If I get Paul to take us, can I go to the park tonight?”

  “We’ll see how late it is. I don’t want a bunch of kids in the park alone at night.”

  Screwing up her nose, sucking in her cheeks and crossing her eyes, Nilda made a horrible face. Her mother looked at her and said, “Nilda, you are a nice-looking girl, but if you keep making those ugly faces, one day your face is gonna freeze and you will grow up as ugly as a toad.”

  “If I can go to the park, I promise I will not make anymore faces, Mamá.”

  Smiling, her mother said, “Suit yourself, but I don’t change my mind. Now go get your brothers; it’s time to eat.”

  “All right.” Nilda reluctantly stood up and slowly walked out. As she went through the living room, Aunt Delia was still reading the paper. This time she was alone. She moved her lips, shaking her head and uttering sounds of shock and outrage.

  December 7, 1941

  The wind was strong, sharp and cold as they walked toward First Avenue near the East River. Sophie held Baby Jimmy; he was wrapped up in several blankets. At first Nilda thought he would suffocate, but now, with the cold sharp wind on her face, she wished she had a few blankets herself. Victor walked alongside Sophie and the baby.

  “How many more blocks, Victor?”

  “Just about two. We’re almost there.”

  “Are you gonna come up with us, Victor?”

  “Will you stop asking so many questions, Nilda!” he snapped. Oh boy, he’s not too happy about going either, she thought. Her brother Victor was quiet and serious by nature. Even though Jimmy was the oldest, they all looked to Victor for advice. He very often made decisions and was respected as the older brother. Her mother would say, “I can always count on my Victor. Thank God for such a son.” He was in his senior year in high school and was a very good student. Nilda would brag about him to her friends. “He’s real smart,” she’d say, “always reading books and always in the library. He got the highest mark in his whole class. When he graduates, he’s going to go to college someplace and be something big, like a lawyer or even a bookkeeper. You know, something like that. Mami says he’s not going to be a sucketa working in no factory.”

  Nilda walked along, too cold to worry about the visit and anxious to reach there and get warm. At last they approached a grey tenement. The building was narrow, four stories high and old- and worn-looking, resembling all the other buildings in the area. They walked up the stoop steps and into the small foyer. Nilda felt the warmth as she trembled, shaking off the coldness from the outside. “Man, it’s cold out,” she said.

  Sophie stood there holding the baby. Nilda began reading the names on the mailboxes on both sides of the walls. She read silently, Zapatoki, Stasik, Jahelka, Brozyna, Lapinski.… Some of the names were hard to read. Not one Spanish name, she thought. The hallway was as empty as the cold streets outside.

  “I guess you better wait down here, Victor. My mother might think you are Jimmy and get real angry,” Sophie said, looking at Victor. “But once I’m inside, I’ll send Nilda down to come get you,” she added with embarrassment and looked away. She stood still awhile and began to bite the corners of her lips, first biting the right corner and then the left. “Okay, we might as well go on up,” she said, smiling despite a frightened look in her eyes.

  Nilda followed Sophie through the hallway and up the stairs. A strong odor of cooked cabbage permeated the hallway. She could hear the hall radiator hissing as the warm steam escaped into the stale air.

  “Is it a long way up?” whispered Nilda.

  “It’s the top floor, three more flights,” Sophie answered, also in a whisper. They continued to climb the narrow stairway. The floor was covered with dark green linoleum that had just been washed clean. A slight odor of disinfectant, mingled with the odor of cooked cabbage, made Nilda a little faint.

  “One more, Nilda, then we’ll be there.” Sophie stopped and rested against the wall, holding little Jimmy who slept soundly. Catching her breath, she started up again. They reached the last landing and walked up to a narrow, dark brown door with the number 15 printed in black. Standing in front of the door for a second, she handed the baby to Nilda and said in a barely audible whisper, “Here, take him for a minute.” She smoothed out her coat and straightened her hair. Reaching down, she picked up the infant again. Holding the baby, she pushed the small bell on the right-hand side of the door.

  Nilda heard a short ring sound at the other side of the door and then a dog bark. The dog, jumping at the door, began to bark loudly. Nilda ran back toward the stairway.

  “Don’t be scared, Nilda; that’s Queenie, my dog.” Smiling, she seemed to gain confidence as the dog continued to bark, and rang the bell again, this time more forcefully. “Queenie, it’s Sophie. How’s the girl? Queenie?” The dog began to yelp, cry and whine. Sophie laughed nervously and handed the baby back to Nilda. “Take him, Nilda. He’s sleeping, so hold him still.”

  They heard footsteps on the other side of the wall; the footsteps came all the way up to the door and stopped. A voice from inside said, “Who is it? Who’s there?” The dog stopped her whining and it got quiet. “Who is it? Anybody out there?”

  “Mama? Mama, it’s me, Sophie.” Silence followed. “Mama?” The dog started a low crying and whining. “Mama, it’s me, Sophie. Can I come in?” After a short silence they heard the footsteps disappearing somewhere inside the locked apartment. Nilda was beginning to tire and the baby was stirring, so she carefully leaned against the wall, trying to ease the weight.

  They heard a noise; the door next to them, with the number 16, opened. For an instant Nilda could see a face on the other side of the door chain. Then someone slammed it shut. Sophie put her finger to the bell and pressed it for a long time. The dog began to bark loudly once again. They heard the footsteps coming back toward the door. Getting very close to the door, Sophie placed her mouth over the lock and said, “Mama, it’s me, Sophie, and my baby. Mama? I have a baby, your grandson. It’s a boy. His name is James. I brought him to meet you, to meet his grandmother. Can we come in? Mama?”

  “Who is there? What do you want?” the voice from inside asked.

  “Mama.…” Nilda heard Sophie talking in another language. Her voice was steady at first, then it began to crack. She was crying but she continued to speak. “Mama” was all Nilda could make out. Sophie seemed to be pleading. She stopped and waited for a response, then continued to speak, crying and pleading. Nilda could not understand a word of what she said. Sophie stopped talking and waited, quietly sobbing.

  The voice inside answered loudly in English. It was a woman’s voice, strong, and with an accent. She pronounced the words very clearly. “Who is this? Sophie, you say. I don’t know anybody by that name. My Sophie, my daughter, is dead. She died. She run off with a nigger and now she’s dead. He poisoned her. You are mistaken. I don’t have no daughter no more. You got the wrong house. Go away to another place; maybe they know you there.”

  “Mama! Maaamaaa!”

  Startled, Nilda heard a shriek as Sophie lifted both her hands and began to hit the door, shoving her weight against it. “Maaama! Maaama!” Sophie kept screaming between sobs, almost choking as she shrieked out to her mother. “Maaaaama!”

  Nilda felt little Jimmy jump up in her arms and begin to cry. People opened doors, muttering, then slammed them shut again. The baby was crying steadily now.

  They heard the woman from inside the apartment shouting, “Get out! I’ll call the police. Go away. Go someplace with those people who killed my daughter. The niggers. Go there. My daughter is dead, gone, finished. No more. I call the police!”

  Sophie had her face buried in her hands, sobbing. Lifting her head she looked at Nilda, her face streaked with tears and her nose wet with mucus. Wiping her nose on her sleeve, she said, “Let’s go.” Baby Jimmy was still crying. She took him from Nilda. Turning around just before going down the steps, Sophie yelled, “Remember, Mama, remember I’m dead, dead, dead!” She
went down the stairs swiftly. Nilda followed, almost running, frightened, her heart pounding as she thought of the lady in the apartment. She wanted to run all the way home and back to her own mother. She was glad the lady had not opened the door.

  Victor was waiting, standing in the outside doorway, rubbing his hands together to keep warm. He looked uneasy. Nilda noticed the look of shock and concern on her brother’s face as he looked at Sophie and the baby. “What happened?” he asked. “I heard some shouting.” Sophie was absentmindedly rocking the baby, who had stopped crying. She opened her mouth to speak but began to cry. “Here, Sophie,” said Victor, “I’ll take him. I’ll carry him home.” He reached over and took the baby from her. She cried quietly, continuing to cover her face with her hands. They walked out of the building and began to walk home. Victor handed her a handkerchief and she held it up to her face. He looked at Nilda inquiringly.

  Shrugging her shoulders, she whispered to her brother, “Her mother wouldn’t open up the door.”

  The three of them walked back briskly. This time the wind was going with them so that it hit their backs instead of their faces and seemed to help them walk a little faster.

  What does she mean her daughter is dead? Didn’t she know that was Sophie? What does she mean her daughter was poisoned? Nilda walked home asking herself these questions. I wonder what Sophie told her in that other language. Maybe that’s what got that lady so mad, what Sophie said to her in that language. Well, whatever she said, I didn’t understand one word except when she said “Mama.” My mother would never throw me out, and she would certainly know who I am. She would recognize me right away. Of course, unless I had some sort of accident and had to get my face changed. Like in that movie where that woman had a real bad scar on her face and wore a big hat that could hide her. Then she meets a doctor and he fixes it and makes her so beautiful that no one knows who she is anymore. But she still got the same voice. Didn’t that lady know Sophie’s voice? That couldn’t have gotten different, she said to herself. She knew Sophie’s mother did not like Puerto Ricans, and that was why she didn’t like Jimmy. I guess when she told her to go back to the niggers, she meant us, Nilda thought, getting angry. Well, I hope that Jimmy and Sophie have a big wedding and get a nice apartment like Mamá says, and when that lady knocks on the door, I hope they don’t let her in neither. Nilda went on thinking. The whole business made no sense to her. She walked along, now no longer frightened, and glanced at Sophie, who still held the handkerchief to her face. She felt really sorry for her, wishing deeply that there were something she could do.

  They reached Lexington Avenue and Nilda remembered the party and began to worry about being late for the church service. It was supposed to start at about five P.M. She was going to meet Benji at four o’clock and get together with Petra and Marge; they had to plan where they were going to sit at the service and what they were going to do.

  “What time is it?” she asked her brother.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have a watch.”

  “What time do you think it is? Is it four o’clock?”

  “No, it can’t be. We left at one; it didn’t take us that long. It can’t be more than about three o’clock.”

  They soon reached their building and started up the stairway. As they walked into the apartment, Sophie said in a quiet voice, “I’ll take the baby, Victor.” Taking Baby Jimmy, she disappeared into the long hallway. Nilda heard the door to her room slam shut.

  “Victor? Is that you? You are back so soon?” Nilda heard her mother’s voice. Her mother walked into the living room with a worried look on her face. “¿Qué pasó, chico? What happened? Didn’t I just hear Sophie? Did you get there all right?”

  “We got there all right, Mom.” Victor looked seriously at his mother. “All I know is I waited downstairs. Nilda went up with Sophie and the baby. I heard some shouting, but I was standing in the outside hall and nothing sounded clear.”

  Looking directly at Nilda, her mother asked, “Well, what happened? Did she get to see her mother? Was there anyone home? Was she in?”

  “We got up there, but the lady wouldn’t open the door.”

  “What do you mean she wouldn’t open the door?” her mother asked, her voice getting louder.

  “She said that her daughter is dead. That somebody poisoned her. That Sophie should go back to the …” Nilda hesitated.

  “The what?” her mother asked urgently. “The what?”

  “She said the niggers. To go back to the niggers because they poisoned her, I think.” She paused and then went on, “Mamá, is the food ready? I’m really hungry; can I eat? I have to meet Benji, remember?”

  “Did she open the door at all, Nilda?”

  “No, not at all. We only heard her talking and a dog barking. Sophie said it was her dog. Can I eat? Mami, I have to go soon.”

  “Did Sophie tell her about the baby?” her mother asked.

  “Yes, she told her. She even told her his name, too. Please, Mamá, can I—”

  “Okay,” her mother interrupted. “Wait a second now!” Picking up her hand, she covered her eyes. For a moment Nilda watched her mother silently, afraid she was going to burst into tears. But then her mother lowered her hand and Nilda saw that even though she looked upset, she was not going to cry. Turning to Victor she said, “Victor, feed yourself and Nilda. I’m going in to speak with Sophie. Everything is on the stove. We can’t have no seconds today, so just fill the plates once. And Nilda, you don’t go without telling me. I have to know the time you’ll come back. You hear?” There was a tenseness in her voice. “Wash up first.”

  Nilda ran into the bathroom and washed. She was hungry and anxious to meet her friends. There was going to be food tonight at the church, so she didn’t mind not having seconds. Her thoughts were filled with going to the party, listening to the music, the speeches and making plans with her friends.

  December 7, 1941

  Late Afternoon

  Nilda hurried over to Benji’s building. It was grey out and getting dark. Still no snow, she thought. Walking up the stoop steps she could see inside the hallway. Benji was waiting next to the hall radiator, trying to keep warm. She pushed open the inside door and said, “Hi, Benji. Did you hear the news on the radio? All the radio stations were talking about what happened.”

  “Yeah. Man, everybody up in my house was talking and my mother and abuelita was crying—”

  “The Japanese bombed the whole United States Navy in Pearl Harbor. That’s what some of the news said, and now we are gonna be at war,” Nilda interrupted excitedly.

  “Papá made us all get down on our knees and pray. As soon as everybody got up again and started to talk, I grabbed my coat and split.” With a worried look he asked, “Nilda? Do you think they will bomb us here?”

  “No,” she answered reassuringly. “My brother Victor says we are too far away, that they don’t got planes to fly that far. You don’t have to worry.”

  “Good,” he said, smiling at Nilda. “What a surprise, huh, Nilda?”

  “Not to my papá,” Nilda said. “He knew we would have to get into the war because of Franco. You know, Hitler and Mussolini helping him all the time. My papá said sooner or later it would happen. He was not surprised at all.” She paused and saw that Benji was looking at her confusedly. She wanted to explain it further to Benji but remembered about the service tonight. “Hey, Benji, are we still gonna have the meeting and the party at your church?”

  “Oh, yes, Papá said that it is a good thing. We need the meeting because it is sin and the devil that causes war and we got to pray and fight evil.”

  “Good,” sighed Nilda with relief. Looking out toward the street, she said, “I wonder where Petra and Marge are. They better not be late.”

  “They’re listening to the radio, I bet you.” Leaning against the wall next to the hot radiator, he moved closer to Nilda. Smiling up at her he said, “I’m glad you’re coming with us, Nilda.” Nilda smiled back at him and nodded her he
ad. Benji went on, “Sometimes, though, I wish Petra wouldn’t have to bring that Marge with her all the time. We can’t do anything without worrying about her, and she can be such a pest.”

  “Petra don’t like it neither, but you know how strict her parents are, especially her father. She can’t go no place without her little sister. That Marge is worser now that she got them Shirley Temple dolls, and the way her mother combs her hair, too. You know what? She wants me and Petra to call her Shirley. She told me she’s going to change her name and—”

  “Not me! Never happen!” interrupted Benji. “I’m not gonna call her Shirley. Her name is Marge López and that’s just what I’m going to call her. I don’t care.”

  “Me neither!” Nilda said emphatically. “And I don’t care if she does get mad and cries. She’s such a crybaby and she only does it so we can feel sorry for her and give in.” After a short pause Nilda jumped up quickly. “Benji. Did you tell her about that man Justicio? Doña Amalia’s husband? Or about our plan?”

  “No, of course not. Nilda, do you think I’m stupid? Petra wouldn’t tell her neither; you know what a tattletale Marge is. If she knew, she would rat on us, man! And their father is so strict, they could never be allowed to play with us again. I know that she doesn’t know nothing about it.”

  “Listen, what do you think? Will he do it tonight?”

  “Well, at the last meeting he almost did it. He says next time he’s going in and getting his wife out and ain’t nobody going to stop him. You know, my papi says that when Don Justicio gets drunk, the devil gets into him so that nobody can control him.”

  “But Don Justicio’s still gonna try tonight, ain’t he?” asked Nilda anxiously. Benji nodded his head. “Did you ever see it? I mean the whole thing, Benji?”

  “Well, once I almost did, but they grabbed him right away and his wife, Amalia, fainted. All the ladies were screaming. I only saw a little.”

  “Hey, where should we sit? What do you think?”