Turning to Sophie he said, “Sophie, show Nilda the baby and let’s split. Finish packing; don’t worry about taking all that crap, will you? I’ll buy more.” Nilda walked in timidly, feeling somehow that it was not the same room anymore, and that she was in the wrong place. The baby was all bundled up in mountains of blankets.
“Come on, Nilda. Here he is,” said Sophie, “but don’t wake him now or I’ll murder you. I just gave him a bottle and I want him to sleep through the night.” Nilda looked but could hardly see his face. She did not know what to say or do.
“Okay, you took a look?” Jimmy said.
“Okay,” Nilda said. She paused for a moment and then went on, “Good-bye, Jimmy and Sophie … and … maybe I can … like you said, come to see you or something.”
“Sure, Nilda, sure. Good-bye, honey.” Reaching into his pocket, Jimmy took out a quarter. “Here, you get yourself something.”
“Gee, thank you, Jimmy.” She took the money and just stood there. They turned and started putting things into several suitcases that were open on the bed.
“Let’s go, Sophie. I haven’t got all night!”
Nilda left the room and walked back to bed. Her parents were still in the kitchen talking. She put her shoes under the cot and climbed in, covering herself, trying to shake off the chill of the cold apartment. She could hear the Madison Avenue bus stop at the corner, and go again quickly. It’s gonna feel funny not to see the baby no more, she thought. I wonder if he’ll remember me when I go to visit him. Her thoughts started to wander and she became very drowsy. Turning over, she felt something in her hand; it was the money Jimmy had given her. Oh, she thought, I better put this away. Bending down, she slipped the coin into her shoe and, closing her eyes, fell asleep to the rhythm of the traffic whizzing along Madison Avenue and the ticking of the clock on the night table.
May 1942
Nilda had been waiting with her mother a good part of the morning. They sat on a bench at the health station. Finally she heard her name. “Nilda Ramírez, next.” A young nurse held a manila envelope. “Mrs. Ramírez? Give me the pink card. You have to wait here.”
Nilda followed the young nurse through a door into a long room with many partitions dividing the space into eight small units and a narrow corridor. Each unit was about four and a half feet wide and a heavy green curtain closed off each entrance for privacy. Nilda followed the nurse into one of the tiny rooms. There was a small light-green metal table set with a clean white towel and some medical instruments. A metal stool was set right next to the table and a wooden chair was placed opposite. The nurse took the manila folder and put it on the table with the pink card. “Take off your clothes, honey, and put them on the chair. Leave your shoes and panties on,” the nurse said and left.
Nilda started to undress. She heard someone being examined in the next cubbyhole. “Say ahh,” a man’s voice said. “That’s good. Now breathe deep.”
A man dressed in white walked in and sat down on the stool. Nilda knew he was the doctor. “Well now, young lady, let me see,” he said, and picked up the folder. “Mmmm … ah ha … ah ha … ummm … okay! Now, we’re just going to give you a checkup; don’t be scared. No needles today,” he smiled. “Now say ahh. Open your mouth.” He put a wooden depressor on her tongue.
“Ahhh,” said Nilda.
“Good,” he said. “Now you are doing just fine.” He examined her eyes, ears and chest. “Haven’t menstruated yet, have you?” he asked. Nilda looked at him blankly, then became confused as he waited for an answer. “Your period. You haven’t gotten it yet, have you?”
“No.” It was the first word she had said and she felt embarrassed.
The doctor asked her a few more questions. “Okay. You’re in good health. Now get dressed and the nurse will take you outside and examine your hair for lice.” He got up quickly and left. Nilda began to get dressed.
The nurse walked in and picked up the manila folder with the pink card. “Come on, you have to get examined for lice.” Nilda hurried and followed her back outside where her mother was. Nilda started toward her mother. “No … hey, come here. Over here first! You are not through yet,” the nurse said, looking annoyed. She led Nilda into a partitioned area on the far right side of the room. Pointing to a bench that was placed in front of the partition, she said, “Sit there until your turn comes,” and then walked behind the partition.
There were three girls sitting on the bench ahead of Nilda. She sat down next to them. She could see right into the room where another nurse, an older heavyset woman, was examining a little girl’s head very carefully. The young nurse walked out and disappeared.
“I wonder if she’s gonna make it,” said the girl sitting next to Nilda. “They caught some nits on a girl before. Man, was that nurse hollering and calling her a pig.”
Nilda felt her heart jump. Her mother had thoroughly cleaned her head with kerosene yesterday and had inspected it very carefully this morning. Nilda had protested and carried on, but her mother had insisted. “You are not going in with a trace of anything in your hair. That’s all there is to it! They are not going to call us cochinos.” All last night she had secretly prayed again and again that she would have lice in her hair, because she dreaded the idea of going to camp. Now, as she looked at the nurse, she hoped her head was clean; at this moment she was more frightened of the nurse than she was of camp. The girl who was being examined left the room smiling.
“Julia Díaz, you’re next,” said the nurse. One of the girls jumped up and went into the room. After a while, the girl came out of the room with a look of relief on her face. “Carmen-María Quin … Quintera? Next!”
“What camp you going to?” Nilda heard the girl next to her ask.
“I don’t know exactly. That is, they didn’t tell me the name yet,” Nilda replied.
“You never been there?” asked the girl.
“No … but I been to camp before,” Nilda said.
“How did you like it?”
“I didn’t like it at all. It stunk,” said Nilda.
“Why you going again?” asked the girl.
“I gotta go, man; my mother says I gotta go,” Nilda said.
“Me too,” said the girl. “I have to go to a Catholic camp. They are too strict. I don’t like it. I hate it. The sisters are mean, you know.”
Nilda’s eyes widened. “Hey, is that camp by any chance called ‘Saint Anselm’s Camp for Catholic Youth’? That’s where I was.”
“No,” the girl said. “This one is named ‘Our Sacred Lady of Refuge’.”
“Do you got boys there?” asked Nilda.
“You kidding? With my mother? No, it’s only for girls. I been going there since I was a little kid. I try to talk my mother out of it, you know, but now,” she lowered her voice, “I got my period and Mami said I gotta be away from boys. She’s worser and stricter now. And Papi he …”
“Luisa de Jesús, next!” the nurse called.
A few moments later Nilda heard the nurse saying loudly, “OH … oh no … no no, young lady. What’s this? Honestly! Don’t these people know that they’re going to be examined? Ugh!” She pushed the girl’s head away in disgust. Walking over to a small table, she picked up a pad and began writing. Then she picked up a manila folder and continued writing, filling in a form.
Nilda saw the girl, who looked down at the floor, her face flushed with embarrassment. Oh man, thought Nilda, she looks like she’s gonna cry.
“Didn’t your mother clean your hair?” the nurse yelled. The girl did not answer. “Well? I’m talking to you.”
“Yes,” she answered.
“It’s full of nits; you know that? You’ve got a filthy head. Shame on a big girl like you. Look, you’re developing already! I’ll bet you’re menstruating! Walking around with a filthy head. Honestly! Some people!” She looked at the girl and went on, “Who brought you here today? Your mother?” The girl nodded her head. “Well go on, go get her; I have to speak to her.” Quickly, the gi
rl jumped off the stool and ran out toward the other side of the large room. Nilda watched as the nurse walked around, busy putting things here and there.
The girl came back with her mother, a small thin woman, her hair tied in a kerchief. She carried a paper shopping bag and a worn-out pocketbook. She entered the room smiling at the nurse and nodding her head. One of her front teeth was missing and she kept putting her hand up to her mouth.
“You know she’s got a dirty head,” the nurse said to the woman. The girl translated what she said into Spanish, speaking to her mother.
“No,” the mother shook her head and said to the nurse, “she clean.”
“She’s got a head full of nits. I just saw it. You want me to find one for you?” The girl translated what the woman had said. The mother looked at the nurse. She began to speak to the nurse quietly and intensely.
“What did she say?” the nurse asked.
“She says that she cleaned my head good with the kerosene and everything and maybe there are one or two nits but they could not be alive. Like they are left over from what she cleaned—”
“I found nits!” the nurse shouted, interrupting her. “Doesn’t matter if they are old or new, dead or alive, or left over. You, my dear, have a dirty head.” Looking at the mother impatiently, the nurse said, “Now here is what you do. Take this prescription and follow the instructions. Use it! It’s already very late; it’s almost June. I don’t think she can get to camp this summer. I doubt it this year.” The mother looked at her daughter, waiting for the translation. The girl spoke to her mother.
“No … no es posible! No,” the mother began to protest loudly in Spanish, shaking her head and waving her arms.
The nurse interrupted, “Look, now stop arguing! That’s what she’s got in her head. Look.” The nurse pointed to something on the wall and then pointed to the girl’s head. Nilda could see it was some sort of poster, but she could not make out what was on it. The girl and her mother walked out.
“Nilda Ramírez, next!”
As she sat down on the high stool Nilda heard the mother quietly protesting. The nurse quickly washed and dried her hands. Nilda tried to keep calm and not move, although nervous and anxious, as she felt the woman’s cold fingers parting her hair and digging into her scalp.
“Don’t fidget and keep still. Put your head down,” the nurse said.
Nilda looked around the room for the poster the nurse had shown that girl’s mother. She could see it quite clearly. In the center of the poster was a carefully detailed drawing of a head louse. It was brown in color with a small round head attached to a large oval-shaped body. Two eyes bulged out of its head, antennae jutted out above each eye and three feet sprouted out symmetrically on either side of the fat scaly body. Nilda was both fascinated and revolted at the idea that this was the same tiny creature that traveled in her hair by the dozens, leaving the tiny white nits, each smaller than a pinhead. It looks like one of them prehistoric monsters from the movies, she thought. She thought of the “Flash Gordon” chapters and all the weird things he had to fight in outer space.
“Go on now,” she heard the nurse say. “You’re clean. Here’s your card.”
Nilda ran outside to her mother, smiling. Her mother smiled back at her. She sat down, giving her mother the card, and said with a sense of relief, “Mami, I passed.”
July 1942
From Grand Central Station, like the first time, along with many other children, Nilda went off to camp again. It was an all-girls camp, nonsectarian, taking children from all areas of the Eastern states. Her mother told her that it would be different this time. Reassuring her, she had said, “Look, Nilda, I had to pay something for the camp. It’s not a free camp like the last time. I had to buy two pink jumpsuits for uniforms; everybody wears the same thing there. Everybody is the same. You see? Nobody is going to hit you, Nilda. There is not gonna be no nuns and none of that. I promise. Okay?”
She was going for a whole month. That’s like forever, she thought, feeling miserable. As the train sped out of New York City, leaving the Barrio and the tall buildings behind, Nilda became frightened, not knowing what was going to happen to her. Looking around her in the train car, she noticed that there were no dark children. Except for a couple of olive-skinned, dark-haired girls, she did not see any Puerto Rican or black children. She wondered if the two girls were Spanish.
Nilda thought about last summer and the nuns, and felt a sense of relief as she looked at one of the women counselors who was dressed in a light pink cotton suit. The woman caught Nilda’s glance and smiled at her. Nilda quickly looked away, hoping that the woman would not ask her any questions. She did not want to speak to anyone. She began to think of home and her family, making an effort to keep from crying.
She knew her brothers had gone to camp. Paul was big enough to work at his camp and make some money. Lucky thing! she thought. She remembered Victor was not going to be at home anymore. Determined, despite his mother’s protests, he had joined the Army right after graduation. He had been gone two weeks already. She just couldn’t imagine not having Victor at home anymore. She had been very proud that her brother was going to be a soldier and had told Miss Langhorn all about it at school. “He is a good American,” Miss Langhorn had said. “You and your family should be proud.”
She remembered Victor’s graduation party. Her mother had managed a small dinner for the family, and a cake. Aunt Rosario had come down from the Bronx with her husband, Willie, and her two children, Roberto and Claudia. Her mother and Aunt Rosario had been brought up together in Puerto Rico; they were first cousins. She was her mother’s only relative in this country. Nilda saw Aunt Rosario and her cousins during holidays every year and on special occasions. She would travel with her family to the Bronx or Aunt Rosario would come to the Barrio to visit with them. Nilda didn’t much like Roberto, but she enjoyed playing with Claudia.
Nilda smiled, thinking about all her family and Baby Jimmy. She remembered it had been a long time since she had seen him. He won’t even know me anymore when I see him again, she thought. Last winter they had received a card from Jimmy and Sophie postmarked somewhere in New York, not New Jersey, with no return address. She went on drifting into mental images.
A loud whistle sounded and the train began to slow down. “Bard Manor … Bard Manor … fifteen-minute stop,” she heard a man’s voice calling.
Outside they all lined up and marched over to several buses that were parked near the small railroad station. After a short ride, Nilda got off the bus with the rest of the girls. Nilda looked about her and saw no buildings; there were large areas of grass and trees. Off at a distance from the road she saw a group of cottages set among green hills.
They approached the cottages, which were made of unfinished logs with a dark rough bark. Nilda entered a cottage with her group; it was a large dormitory, simply furnished. There was a total of eight beds, four at either side of the room. A wooden bureau was placed next to each bed, with a small wooden bench at the foot. Each child automatically took a bunk.
“Hello, girls,” said one counselor. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Miss Rachel Hammerman, and you can all call me Miss Rachel.” Looking at the other counselor, she said, “Jeanette?”
“Yes,” answered the other counselor. “Hi. I’m Miss Jeanette Pisacano. You can all call me Miss Jeanette.”
Miss Rachel said, “Has everyone got a bunk? Okay then that will be your bunk for the rest of the time you’re going to be here. In this section of Bard Manor Camp for Girls we have campers ages nine to twelve. The older girls live on the other side of the camp. We will visit them in time and they will visit us as well. In fact, we all eat together in the main house, which is about a ten-minute walk down the road. The pool is there with the tennis court, swings and all the other goodies. Let’s see …” she paused. “Oh, yes, Miss Jeanette and I also sleep here; I don’t know if you noticed, but there is another entrance to the cottage; that is our entrance only. Okay?” She waite
d, then asked, “Now, Jeanette, you wanna say something?”
“Yes,” Miss Jeanette smiled. “We hope to really have a good time here. You all might complain about our early bedtime … seven-thirty we get ready.”
“Awww.…” “Nawww,” the girls complained.
“By eight o’clock we should be in bed,” Miss Jeanette went on, smiling.
“Nooo.… Awww.” “Awwww,” the girls responded.
“You will be so tired,” Miss Jeanette went on talking, “that you’ll be glad to get to bed when we finish with you.” She paused and smiled. “You’ll see.” She laughed. “Anyway—” The girls interrupted, giggling and protesting. “Shhhh … shhhh.” She continued, “Now listen, you all have two pink jumpsuits. They will be what you are going to wear most of the time that you are here. Just put on a pair of clean panties and your jumpsuits. At the end of the day you can put them in the large laundry cart in the shower room. Now, they will be laundered; you will always have a clean jumpsuit to wear. In the morning someone will put all the suits and panties on one camper’s bunk. She will look at the name tags and distribute them. Every day another camper will distribute the jumpsuits, so that everyone will take a turn, rotating … ummm … and …” Looking at Miss Rachel, she asked, “What else, Rachel?”
“Oh, well, we will make a list of chores for everyone. Every day each camper has a special chore to do. We will alternate the work.”
“Too bad.” “Yeah.” “Aw, shucks,” said some of the girls.
Miss Rachel smiled. “Never mind; everybody works. Here we make our own beds and keep our cottage clean, as well as help in the dining room at mealtime and so on.” Pausing, she asked, “Who’s hungry?”
“Meeeee.” “Me.” “I’m starving,” the girls yelled.
“Okay,” she said, “get your things put away and then wash up and make sure you all go to the toilet. Now, as soon as we finish, we go eat. All right? Make it snappy then,” Miss Jeanette said.
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