Ana's Story

by Jenna Bush

  “She is super linda, so beautiful and chubby,” said the petite girl. “Hola, Beatriz, I’m Marcela and she is Verónica.”

  “I’m Ana. Mucho gusto,” Ana said, thrilled to meet friends her age.

  Verónica and Marcela walked with Ana and Beatriz to the park, where they met their amigas for a couple of hours every evening.

  “You should come tonight. We have some cute guy friends. Do you have a boyfriend?” Verónica asked.

  “Yeah, where is Beatriz’s papá?” Marcela chimed in.

  “Well, he lives nearby. Things have been kind of strange with him lately, though,” Ana said, looking at Beatriz. She felt as if those words betrayed Berto, and yet she wanted to talk with someone about the strain in her relationship with him. But she didn’t want to tell her new friends that Berto had been in and out of the hospital for months. She didn’t want them asking questions about his illness—or hers. She just wanted some friends, she wanted to be thought of as a normal seventeen-year-old girl because that’s the way she saw herself.

  That evening at the park, Ana met their friends. She didn’t remember most of their names, and she spent the evening next to Verónica and Marcela.

  “Who is that?” Ana asked, pointing to a tall boy with broad shoulders and curly black hair.

  “That is Guillermo. He is so guapo,” Verónica said. “He lives with his mamá.”

  As soon as he looked in her direction, Ana shifted her eyes and turned toward Beatriz.

  91

  Things became more and more difficult between Ana and Berto. He had left the hospital and returned to the hogar, but they hadn’t spent much time together. Ana always had to visit Berto because it was difficult for him to get around. She felt bad for him, sad he was in pain, but she also felt lonely watching other couples walk hand in hand with their children. Ana was surrounded by families, but although Berto was the father of her baby, she did not feel they were a family of their own.

  Ana’s feelings for Berto were unpredictable. When she thought of the love they shared in the beginning of their relationship, she wanted to be with him forever. When she thought of Beatriz, she wasn’t sure that Berto could be the type of father that she wanted for her daughter. When they were together, Berto seemed more interested in Ana than Beatriz; it was as if Berto wanted to be a boyfriend, not a father. Ana wanted a family for her daughter. She wanted to give her everything she hadn’t had.

  In many ways Berto was still Ana’s best friend, but she didn’t have the same feelings for him that she used to. The passion, the attraction, the butterflies had flown away.

  Instead, Ana found herself thinking of Guillermo. Berto was and would always be Beatriz’s papá, but Ana knew what she had to do.

  Ana didn’t want to hurt Berto, but she had to tell him how she felt. Her palms sweating, she dialed the number of the hogar.

  “Hola, Berto,” Ana said nervously.

  “Hola, Ana. What’s up? How is Beatriz?” Berto asked, his voice weak.

  “Beatriz is good; I’m good, too,” Ana said as she cleared her throat. “Berto, there is something I need to talk with you about. I know I’ve been acting weird.”

  “Ana, it’s fine,” Berto said, trying to cut her off. “I understand.”

  “No, Berto, it’s not okay.” Ana paused, unsure of how to say it. Then she blurted out: “You will always be Beatriz’s papá, but I don’t think we are working as a couple.”

  There was silence on the phone line.

  “I wasn’t expecting this at all,” Berto said. “I don’t want this. I don’t want Beatriz to live the life that I have lived, without a mamá and a papá. I am her father.”

  Ana couldn’t respond. She knew his pain, and she didn’t want to add to it.

  “I would do anything to make this work, to be a family, a real one,” he said.

  “Berto, you can’t. You don’t have a job. You still live in the hogar. You need to be there, but Beatriz and I can’t live there with you. How can we be a family when we can’t live together?” Ana said. Then she realized that there was more to it.

  “I’m sorry, but my feelings have changed, too,” Ana said.

  “Okay” was all Berto said; then he hung up the phone.

  Ana felt a combination of grief and relief. She didn’t regret what she had done, but she did regret that Berto would not be able to be the kind of father Beatriz needed. Ana and Berto still wanted the same future—one with a loving and supportive family—but Ana no longer saw them living that dream together.

  92

  On New Year’s Eve, Verónica stopped by Ana’s house.

  “Hey, what are you going to do tonight?” Verónica asked.

  “Nada,” Ana said. “I think I’m going to stay home with Beatriz.”

  “No way! You have to come to the park tonight. The boys are grilling fish and plantains and shooting off fireworks,” Verónica said.

  “I don’t know. I can’t stay until midnight; it will be too late for the baby,” Ana said.

  Aída overheard the conversation from the other room. “Ana, I’ll watch Beatriz,” she said. “You should go.”

  “Are you sure, Tía? This would be my first night away from Beatriz.”

  “Yes, get out of the house. Have fun,” her tía said. “Beatriz will be okay.”

  Ana and Verónica went to the park at nine. It was already full of kids dancing, lying on blankets, staring at the sky, and eating ice cream and Sno-Kones. The romantic sound of reggae filled the breezy air. The night was black, and a sliver of the moon hung in the sky, lit with fireworks.

  Guillermo walked up to Ana and Verónica.

  “Hola, Guillermo. Happy New Year,” Verónica said, hugging her friend. “This is Ana. She and her baby just moved here.”

  “Wow, Cupid has hit me with his arrow,” Guillermo said, his voice like rough silk.

  Ana couldn’t help but notice how Guillermo made her heart jump slightly.

  He looked directly into Ana’s eyes. “Do you want to dance?” he asked, reaching out to take her hand.

  93

  The following morning, Ana took Beatriz back to the hogar to visit her papá. When she arrived, she saw Berto standing in the courtyard, leaning against a cane.

  “Hola, Berto,” Ana said as she politely kissed him on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” he replied, but Ana could see the sadness on his face. Berto left and went alone to his room.

  Ana talked to Silvia and some of the women from the hogar about the date of Beatriz’s baptism. She then walked down to Berto’s room.

  She remembered the nights she lay on Berto’s small cot and listened to his heart beat in time with the songs on the radio. She was sad that her feelings had changed, but they had.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I just wanted to let you kiss Beatriz before I left,” Ana said, handing Beatriz to her papá. He held her close and kissed her on the forehead.

  “I’ll do what I can to support her, and I know the hogar wants to help,” Berto said.

  Ana was pleased that Berto wanted to take his responsibilities as a father seriously and do whatever he could.

  “Thanks,” she said, reaching for Beatriz. “See you later.” As Ana turned to leave the room, she looked toward the bed and saw pictures of herself and Beatriz taped to the wall next to Berto’s pillow.

  She turned toward him.

  “Are there days you want me to come by to let you visit with her?” Ana asked.

  “Afternoons are best,” he said. “I’m going back to school.”

  Ana was surprised but pleased. “Good for you.”

  94

  Later that afternoon, Ana’s extended family planned to get together at Aída’s house for a party to celebrate the new year. Ana was nervous; she had not seen her abuela or her great-aunt Sonia in a few years.

  Ana hoped that Beatriz could be a bridge to reunite the family; the first day of the new year seemed an appropriate time to start o
ver. Ana was ready to make peace. While the painful memories had not faded, Ana knew she had made things difficult when she lived with her abuela and Aunt Sonia. Of course, Ana’s behavior did not justify the abuse, but now she could see how she had provoked some of the conflicts. She was willing to try again, for her daughter’s sake.

  When her family arrived, Ana stood in the corner, cradling Beatriz. When Ana’s abuela walked into the room, Ana was relieved that Ernesto was not with her.

  Her abuela had aged; her eyes looked old and tired, and her face was as wrinkled as a prune, but she still wore her pride like a medal.

  Her abuela locked eyes with Ana and walked straight toward her.

  “Is this your baby, Ana?” she asked sharply.

  “Yes, Abuela, her name is Beatriz.”

  “Look, my great-granddaughter,” her abuela called out to the family. Then she hugged Ana and took baby Beatriz from her arms.

  Abuela carried the baby to the other side of the room, showing her off to the rest of the family.

  Ana did not need to address the past with her abuela. For now, talking about Beatriz was enough.

  Later in the evening, Great-Aunt Sonia arrived. When she entered the house, Sonia looked around the room and then walked over to Ana. Her steps were slow and labored.

  “Hola, Ana,” her great-aunt said. “It is good to see you and your baby. I hope you have a nice new year.”

  “You too, Tía Sonia,” Ana responded.

  Ana pulled Beatriz in tight and took a deep breath. She had seen both of the women who had injured and rejected her, and she knew now that they no longer had the power to hurt her. In her memories, both her abuela and her great-aunt were big, powerful, and dominating. When she saw them this time, they both seemed shrunken shadows of what they had been. This time Ana felt that she could protect herself—and Beatriz if she had to.

  Later, Ana sat on the edge of the couch, talking to her cousins. She looked around the room crowded with her family. She smelled sweet empanadas baking in the kitchen, and she watched the adults laugh and talk together.

  She knew that her family was flawed, but she was surprised that she genuinely wanted to be with these people in this place in this moment. The only person Ana missed, and the one she wanted to see most of all, was her sister, Isabel.

  95

  At the party, Ana learned that Isabel had been kicked out of her godfather’s house and sent to the reform center. Until that day, Ana knew nothing of the nights Isabel stayed out late or the way she rolled her eyes at her godfather when he tried to correct her; she had no idea that Isabel cursed at her godmother and sometimes skipped school. This news made Ana ache. She knew that Isabel was crying out for help, and she desperately wanted to visit her sister.

  96

  Two days later, when Ana approached the reform center, it looked unchanged from the day she left. She saw the same mural painted in red, lime, and turquoise.

  Ana waved at the guards who had worked there when she was a resident. She went into the administration office and proudly introduced Beatriz to her favorite guard.

  “Ana, is this your bebé?” the guard asked.

  “Yes. This is my Beatriz. Isn’t she beautiful?” Ana asked.

  “She is. She has your smile,” the guard said while gently squeezing one of Beatriz’s cheeks.

  “She looks more like her papá,” Ana replied, her heart sinking slightly.

  “Do you know Isabel?” Ana asked, changing the subject. “She is my sister.”

  The guard looked surprised. “She’s your sister? She’s a troublemaker.”

  Ana cringed. She never thought of Isabel that way. She was always the quiet one who watched as Ana got into trouble.

  Ana handed the guard a bag filled with a toothbrush, soap, face lotion, and a pink spiral notebook with a pencil. “Can I give her these?” Ana asked.

  The guard looked into the bag and removed the notebook and pencil. “I have to confiscate these,” she said, but her voice was kind. “The girls can’t have paper or they write notes to the boys.”

  “I understand,” Ana said, remembering how she used to scribble notes to José and Berto.

  “Go to the cafeteria and wait,” the guard said. “Isabel will meet you there in about five minutes; she is finishing her work in the garden.”

  Ana walked to the cafeteria and sat at one of the tables. She looked at the stage and smiled, remembering her fifteenth birthday.

  Sitting in that room, Ana was struck by the parallels between Isabel’s life and her own. Isabel would soon celebrate her fifteenth birthday locked inside the same detention center where Ana had celebrated her quinceañera.

  After several minutes, Isabel walked into the room wearing the familiar T-shirt and shorts Ana wore during her stay.

  Ana thought she and Isabel looked more alike than they ever had before, almost like twins. They both had deep-set mahogany eyes, full lips, and thick, dark curls. Just as twins connect during their time together in the womb, Ana knew that she and Isabel were linked by their past experiences, by their anguish and joy. Isabel was her sister, her family, and she would honor her promise to her father.

  97

  Isabel hugged Ana fiercely and kissed Beatriz on the head. She sat down and wiped the tears from her eyes. These were tears of frustration, loneliness, and fear. Ana had never seen Isabel look so desperate, so empty.

  Ana listened as Isabel’s problems flooded out of her like a river. Ana’s heart ached as Isabel told her, “All I want is to live with you, to live with Beatriz. I want to be with you.”

  Isabel looked Ana squarely in the eye and said, “Rescue me, please.”

  Ana remembered her father’s last words to her: Take care of your sister.

  “Isabel,” Ana said, “I can’t do anything right now, but when I turn eighteen, I will see if you can come live with me.”

  “That’s one more year,” Isabel said, her voice weak.

  “I understand you quit school,” Ana said, changing the subject.

  “I can’t stand it. You’re lucky; you don’t have to go,” Isabel said.

  “I wish I could go,” Ana said, anger rising in her voice. “I can’t leave Beatriz. I can’t give her to someone I don’t know, someone who might hurt her.” This was the first time Ana truly understood how much she feared for her daughter. She didn’t want to leave her in a situation in which Beatriz could be hurt the way she had been.

  “I want to finish school,” Ana said. “Now I can’t even afford the uniforms, not to mention the books.”

  For a moment, both of the girls felt their own pain, their own regrets.

  “At least you have Beatriz,” Isabel said finally. “You’re not alone.”

  Ana knew how lost and alone Isabel felt. She had felt that way once, too.

  “It’s not easy having a baby,” Ana said gently. “I don’t regret for a moment bringing Beatriz into this world, but it’s hard. I can’t do anything without her. I’m exhausted from changing her diapers and taking care of her all the time.”

  Isabel started crying, and Ana passed Beatriz to her. Beatriz let out a small whine.

  “Oh, Beatriz, don’t cry,” Ana said. “This is your aunt Isabel, and we both love her very, very much.”

  98

  When she was six months old, the doctors gave Beatriz a second HIV/AIDS test. This test confirmed the results of the first, but Beatriz would need a final test to definitively prove that she did not have HIV.

  99

  Ana began to see Guillermo more often at the park in the evenings. Guillermo loved holding Beatriz and making faces at her. He carried the baby on his shoulders, holding her upright and showing her off to all his friends. Ana liked that Guillermo took such an interest in her daughter.

  A week after the New Year’s party, Guillermo stopped by Ana’s house.

  “Hola, guapa,” he said. “I’ve missed seeing you at the park the last couple of nights.”

  “I know. Where have you been?”
Ana asked, hoping she sounded casual.

  “I got a job,” Guillermo said. “I’ve been too tired after work to come to the park. Anyway, I stopped by to see if you and Beatriz would like to come over tonight and meet my mamá.”

  No boy had ever asked her to meet his parents before. She was sure Berto would have introduced her, but he didn’t have parents. She felt guilty for thinking this, but she pushed Berto from her mind and responded, “I would like that.”

  100

  That night Guillermo showed up at five minutes past seven, dressed in a white shirt and jeans. Ana had tried on four different shirts before deciding on a flowing light blue skirt and white tank top. She had woven her hair into an intricate braid.

  Ana and Guillermo walked hand in hand, with Beatriz balanced on his shoulders, his free hand holding her securely. He guided Ana along the dirt roads to his house, one similar to Aída’s, except it was lime green.

  When they walked inside, Ana found Guillermo’s mamá sitting on a tattered red couch.

  “Mamá, this is Ana and Beatriz,” Guillermo said.

  “Ana, I’ve wanted to meet you,” his mother said. “What have you done to my son? He met you and now he has found a job. I think you and that niña of yours have something to do with it.”

  Ana could feel herself blushing. She had no idea how much Guillermo cared for her and her daughter. It made her very happy and hopeful.

  101

  Ana started to develop more serious feelings for Guillermo. They spent almost every evening together, and he bought diapers and milk for Beatriz.

  The three of them sat night after night on an old wool blanket in the park, enjoying the windy evenings of spring. They talked about their lives; Ana opened up about the guilt she felt for breaking up with Berto and for leaving Isabel at the center. She told Guillermo the stories of her past, but when she told them this time, they felt like they had happened a lifetime ago.