“Did you write something or do something, too?” Miss Rachel asked.
“No,” said Stella. “I didn’t.”
“Josie brags too much, Miss Rachel! She has a big mouth.” A girl with straight bangs and long braids spoke. Everyone looked at her, and she continued, “Always talking about her mansion and her clothes and her this and that. And a whole bunch of lies!”
“That’s no reason to take what doesn’t belong to you and destroy or damage it, Evelyn,” Miss Rachel said, and walked over to the girl.
Looking at Miss Rachel defiantly, Evelyn said, “It will teach her a lesson. Not to be a liar!”
“How dare you!” said Miss Rachel. “Evelyn Daniels, who do you think you are? You are nobody special around here to decide who needs a lesson. That was a very cruel thing to do!”
Evelyn began to shake and cry. She opened her mouth and tried to speak, breathing hard. “She hasn’t any parents!” she sobbed. “I’ll bet she doesn’t even have parents. She doesn’t.” Coughing and screaming she yelled, “She’s lying … she is … she better just …” Almost incoherent, she tried to talk, sobbing and crying. “Ah … Ahhh …” she gasped.
“Stop it! Stop it!” said Miss Rachel. Evelyn opened her mouth and began to shriek. Miss Rachel grabbed her by the shoulders and began to shake her. “Stop that, I said. Evelyn Daniels, you will please stop it. Get hold of yourself. Right now! Do you hear!” Evelyn stopped screaming and sat down on her bunk, crying quietly. “Come inside with me,” Miss Rachel said, pointing to the other girls. “We all have to straighten this thing out. We have to talk about this and what has happened. Evelyn, come on. We are all going inside.” Evelyn did not move. Miss Rachel took her arm and gently pulled her toward her. “Please, Evelyn, you must come inside with us; we are going to work this out.” Miss Rachel had not asked Stella or Nilda to come inside with them.
Later, when Miss Jeanette returned with Josie, they went inside with the others and were gone for a long while. Miss Rachel came out and removed the cardboard box. The next day it had been replaced by a plaid cardboard suitcase. It was green Scotch-plaid with a grey background. No one ever mentioned the incident again.
From that time on, Stella, Josie and Nilda became a trio; they did almost everything together, except go to church on Sunday. Josie went to the First Methodist Church. Nilda and Stella went to the Roman Catholic Church. Stella was a Greek Orthodox, but there was no church available for her so she went with the group of Roman Catholic girls for Sunday services.
Josie had finally stopped rearranging things in her suitcase and had put it under her bunk. “Where’s Stella?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but she should be here already,” said Nilda. “Before you know it our free time will be over.”
“Let’s wait outside,” said Josie. The two girls walked outdoors and sat near the cottage. They saw Stella rushing toward them.
“Hi. I had to finish gluing something I’m making for my parents at arts and crafts,” said Stella. “Let’s go.”
The girls followed as Nilda led the way down the road. She took the side trail, then the path to the right and came up to the thick wall of bushes. “Just follow me. You’re gonna have to push the bushes and branches out of the way.” They made their way through the thick shrubbery until they were inside the clearing. “Well?” Nilda said. “Here it is.”
“Oh … this is really pretty,” said Stella.
“Look at all them flowers,” said Josie. “With the sun coming in over there like that, it looks like church.”
“Let’s sit down,” Nilda said, pleased with their reactions. They began to talk about camp and going back home. They were all leaving by the end of the week.
“That’s only three days,” said Josie. “But you can all come to visit me, just as soon as my parents get together again. My dad is getting a new job and he’s going to get our house back in Elmira, with the swimming pool and all. He and my mother are going to come and get me at the place where I am now. That’s only temporary, you know.”
Stella and Nilda looked at each other but said nothing.
Looking a little worried, Stella said, “I’ll ask my father and mother and they will probably make room, so you can sleep with me in my bed. Except, the only thing is I gotta help out every day at the diner.” Stella’s parents owned a roadside diner outside Lancaster, Pennsylvania. She was one of twelve children. Everyone was obligated to help at the diner after school, and weekends as well.
“We can help you when we visit,” said Josie. “Can’t we, Nilda?”
“Sure we can!” agreed Nilda.
“Hey!” said Stella. “I’ll tell them that; they will probably say yes. I’m sure.”
“You can visit me. I’ll ask my mother,” Nilda said. “She won’t mind. We can do a lotta things in Manhattan. We can go to Central Park and play and you can ride the subways. We can sneak in; I’ll show you how. We don’t have to pay.”
“Oh!” “Wow!” said the girls, impressed.
“We can go to a lotta places, but we have to watch out for those tough kids, man!” Nilda loved telling stories about New York City to her two friends because they had never been there.
“Do they really carry knives, like you said?” asked Josie.
“Sure,” Nilda nodded her head emphatically, “and guns and everything. They are real tough. You musta seen it in the movies. Didn’t you?”
“Sure,” said Josie.
“I did,” said Stella.
“But I still would be scared,” said Josie. “I’ve never been to a place like that.”
“Don’t be scared; I’ll be with you and I know just what to do and …”
“Were you ever attacked?” asked Stella.
“Not exactly, but I seen a man knifed. Yes, I did. He was bleeding and holding his stomach and everything.”
“You seen it? The whole thing I mean?” asked Josie.
“What happened? Oh, Nilda, tell us,” said Stella.
“Well,” Nilda said excitedly, “I didn’t see the whole thing exactly, but I was playing and then I saw this big fight. People—men—were pushing and beating each other up and everything. Then they ran. One of them had a gun…” she paused, “but he ran away. Then the man that was hurt ran into the hallway. I went in to help him and then we called the police and they brought an ambulance.”
“Weren’t you scared all alone?” asked Josie.
“Well, my mother was there with someone and they actually called the police.”
“How come your mother was there?” asked Stella.
“She was just walking by, that’s all. And she heard the commotion. So, she called the police,” Nilda said.
“Did he die, Nilda?” asked Josie.
“No, he lived. When he left, I saw him stretched out and he looked like he was going to get better.…” Nilda continued to talk and the girls listened, enjoying what she had to say. They remained in the clearing for quite a while, talking and making plans to visit each other.
“Hey, we better get back before it gets past suppertime,” said Stella.
“Oh, yeah, we better go,” Nilda agreed. “Well I’m glad you finally came to see it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Just like you said it was, Nilda.”
Quickly, Nilda led the way back through the thick bushes, out to the trail, and onto the main road. She had come to her secret garden as often as she could and knew the path even without looking.
They all hurried back to the cottage to wash up for supper. Nilda could not imagine not being in camp anymore, or not seeing her secret garden. Well, she thought, we still got three days and that is a long time.
Some of the girls cried when they said good-bye. Nilda exchanged addresses with Stella and Josie. She wrote them down in her book of drawings, which was in her suitcase. The train ride seemed to go by quickly, and she was hardly aware of just when the tall buildings came into view. The Park Avenue Marketa appeared and the train moved on ra
pidly underground. They had said that they would see her again next year. Nilda thought about her garden and wondered if it would be there next year and still look the same. Would she be in the same cottage? And get her old bunk again? Her thoughts were interrupted by the excitement of Grand Central Station.
She stepped off the train with the other girls and saw her mother waving to her.
“Mami. Mamita, over here!” she yelled. Other children called out to their parents. There were lots of people and children with suitcases, duffle bags and backpacks.
After lining up her group, the counselor began to discharge the children to the adults who waited nearby.
“Mrs. Ramírez, please!” Her mother came forward and Nilda jumped up to greet her. “Good-bye, Nilda. Mrs. Ramírez, it was so nice having her. We hope to see her again next year,” the counselor said.
“Thank you very much. Good-bye. Thank you for everything,” her mother said.
“Good-bye,” Nilda said as she walked away, her arm around her mother. They hugged and kissed each other.
“My goodness. Dios mío. Look at you. My nena has grown almost like a señorita, so big.”
“I made something for you and Papá, Mami. It’s in my suitcase.”
“Did you? Oh, well, I can’t wait to see it. When we get home I make you such a good lunch, you will see.”
“What, Mami? ¿Plátanos?” Her mother nodded. “Oh, boy, I haven’t had them in a whole month.”
“I’ll make everything you like,” her mother smiled.
They walked quickly over to the IRT Lexington Avenue line and boarded a local train, rushing to get seats next to each other. The warm stagnant air in the subway, the vibrations of the moving car, combined with the noise of the train passing over the tracks, placed Nilda in a familiar setting, one that she had known all her life. She leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder and looked up at the advertising signs that were on the wall above the windows. Under almost every advertisement were the words:
BUY AN EXTRA WAR BOND.
YOU’LL BE GLAD YOU DID.
All the advertisements seemed to have something about the war. She read a bus company’s ad:
HIGHWAYS WILL BE HAPPY WAYS AGAIN
IF WE KEEP FAITH WITH OUR FIGHTING MEN.
BUY WAR BONDS.
Courtesy of the American Wings Bus Lines Corp.
On the ad was a lifelike drawing of a man, dressed in a bus driver’s uniform, saying good-bye to his employer. In the next section, the same man was dressed as a soldier, saluting proudly.
SPAM
SO MANY WAYS
COLD AS A SANDWICH
HOT AS THE MAIN DISH
CUT INTO A SALAD
DELICIOUS BUT ALWAYS NUTRITIOUS
This advertisement had a picture of a family sitting down to eat Spam. Everyone was there except the father; his chair was empty. On the wall over his chair was a portrait of a Naval officer, smiling.
Nilda read all the signs; there had not been much mention of the war at camp.
“Here we are, Nilda, 103rd, our stop. Let’s go, mi hijita,” said her mother.
Nilda climbed the familiar steps of the subway station. Outside it was hot and humid, hardly a breeze. They walked along, stopping for traffic and passing familiar shops: bodegas, candy stores, dry cleaning and tailor shops. They turned into her street. A few children were out playing and waved to Nilda, exchanging greetings. She climbed the steps slowly, following her mother. The door was open in one apartment and the radio was playing loudly. In another apartment, she heard an argument. Nilda felt very warm and tired. The perspiration began to run down the sides of her face and, for a moment, she remembered camp, the trails, her garden and the silence. That is happening, she thought, right now too, someplace real far, where I was this morning.
“You hungry, nena?” her mother asked, stopping before the door to the apartment to catch her breath.
“Yes, Mami.”
“Good. We are home now.”
April 1943
“Nilda, bring the rest of the holy water here,” her mother said. “Don’t wake up your papá. You know how he feels; if he finds out, there’s gonna be the very devil and all hell to pay.” Her mother made the sign of the cross.
Nilda carefully brought in a jar filled with holy water. That afternoon, right after school, she had gone with her mother to St. Cecilia’s. Cautiously she had watched, ready to give warning if anyone came by, while her mother quietly filled several glass jars with the holy water. She had scooped the water out of the marble fonts with a metal measuring cup. When she was all finished, she took a small piece of paper and read the prayer that was written on it, as she had been instructed to do by the spiritualist. After making the sign of the cross, they had left.
“I’m hiding the holy water there, way in back of the closet, and as soon as Doña Tiofila comes, we can get to work. I don’t know if it will work, since he don’t believe.…” Her mother paused and sighed, “But maybe, if we believe.” She walked over to one of her portable altars, knelt down and began to pray silently.
Nilda walked into her room and started to put her books away. When Victor had left for the Army, her mother had given Nilda a bedroom of her own. Her stepfather had suffered another heart attack and had been sent home from the hospital with no chance of recovery. Nilda knew that he was very ill despite the fact that he was always making plans to go back to work. She thought about the time her mother had gone to see the spiritualist, determined to try in every way to help her husband recover his health. “There is something bad, something evil that has come into my home, Doña Tiofila.” Nilda had sat and listened as the two women spoke; she was quite used to going with her mother to see Doña Tiofila. “It all started with Jimmy, you see, and now, it’s Emilio,” her mother had confided.
“Doña Lydia, tell me, have you noticed or found anything unusual in the apartment?” Doña Tiofila had asked.
“Well, only as I have told you—the chicken wishbone wrapped up in red ribbon. It was hidden way on top of the doorway at the entrance to our apartment. It had a lot of dust on it, very dirty and looked old, like it had been there for a very long time. So I couldn’t tell whether that was actually monkey turds wrapped inside.”
Shaking her head, Doña Tiofila had said, “You should have brought it to me right away. Immediately!”
“I know. But I didn’t think. I was so upset. So I threw it in the garbage can outside.”
“Well, Doña Lydia, we must have a seance. It is the only way to get to the bottom of this. I will arrange one. There are several people who also need a seance. I’ll let you know.” Nilda had refused to go to the seance with her mother. She was too frightened. When her mother had returned, she told Nilda all about it.
“Nilda, por mi madre, it was just fantastic. You should have gone with me to see. During the seance, the message was spoken by Doña Tiofila; it was the voice of my dead Aunt Saiyo. Remember? I told you about her, she is Titi Delia’s older sister. I recognized her voice right away. She warned me, Nilda. It is my father. Yes, your grandfather, ¡mi hijita! Dios mío. He did not receive the last rites. His last wife did not believe. She is Lutheran; she did not call a priest. So now his soul is wandering around with no place to go and he is restless, tired and angry. My father is now mixing with some other lost souls. ¡Bendito! Some of them are evil; they have been lost too long. They are up to no good and they are the ones entering my house. My father cannot stop them. It is understandable; he is too restless and angry.” Her mother had taken out a written list of items. “You see, Nilda, we must make the sacrifices. I have to get these things; they are important. Look,” she held out the list toward Nilda, “the white rooster, the holy water, the herbs, candles and all that. This way Doña Tiofila can help me so we can be rid of the evil.”
Doña Tiofila was due to arrive in a short while. Nilda’s mother had already bought the live white rooster and given it to the spiritualist, who had made the sacrifice in Central Park the ni
ght before. Now, there were prayers to be recited and rituals to be performed in the apartment. Everyone knew about it except her stepfather.
Her mother had warned everyone. “Papá is not to be awakened. But if he should get up, I will just have to tell him, and that’s that! It is too important.”
Nilda heard voices. She went to see who it was. A small plump woman walked in; she was bundled up in a heavy winter coat and had a kerchief wrapped around her head. She carried a large cloth shopping bag. The woman took off her coat and kerchief. She wore a housedress, no make-up and solid comfortable shoes with laces. “It’s another nasty day out. Looks like snow or rain,” she said. “Winter is too long in this country. Well, thank God, in another couple weeks we have the springtime.”
“Thank you for coming this cold wet day. Everything is ready. My husband is sleeping; I pray he does not wake up. He is not a believer,” her mother said. Pausing, she added, “He can be very difficult.”
“I know,” said Doña Tiofila. “I have to deal with all kinds of people in my work. That’s why the good Lord gives me my faith and my powers. To meet with all kinds of difficulty and doubt. But that never discourages me. Mire, Doña Lydia, I wish I could tell you how many people come to me now, who, at one time did not believe. But after what has happened to them through faith and belief, they now come to me and believe with all their hearts.” Looking at Nilda, who was standing listening, she asked, “How are you, Nilda?”
“Fine, thank you.”
The two women went into the kitchen where her mother began to make coffee. There, Doña Tiofila started to take things out of her shopping bag and discuss the ritual with her mother.
Nilda went back to her room and took out a drawing she was working on for Easter. She was not in the mood to work on it, and went over to her “box of things,” examining the contents. Most of her cardboard cutouts had been made some time ago. Lately, she had lost interest in her cutout projects. I have to start seeing what I need and don’t need, she thought. She took out a paper cutout of a crib, and remembered Baby Jimmy. Well, he certainly won’t know me now; Mamá says he’s almost a year and a half already, Nilda said to herself. She found herself angry at Jimmy and Sophie, feeling it was their fault that she couldn’t see Baby Jimmy.
Nilda Page 14
