Nilda (15 page)

“Like I was saying, this is a swell job in New Jersey. It's around Hoboken and I got a small place, but it's enough room for Sophie and the baby. We got a real modern kitchen, a tile bath, a living room and a private bedroom. The rent is cheap, man, a lot cheaper than in New York.” Jimmy paused and smiled at Sophie.

“You gotta union in this place, Jimmy?” her stepfather asked.

“Don't need no union, Emilio,” Jimmy said. He was the only one who called the old man Emilio. The other children called him Papá.

“That's what you think now. But you see, you need a pension. Rights for the worker that include disability benefits, like in my place. We haven't got all that yet, but we are working toward it. Look, let me give you the name of our …”

“We don't need it there,” Jimmy interrupted.

“Let me give you the name anyway.”

“I ain't promising nothing, okay?” said Jimmy.

“Fair enough!”

“I don't believe in Communism,” Jimmy said.

“Getting help and decent wages, that's Communism! That's not good? Helping the poor, the masses, that's Communism! That's bad? Getting what you deserve instead of charity, that's—”

“Okay,” her mother interrupted. “Everybody knows that, Emilio.”

“No! … not in this house, everybody does not know that!”

Ignoring her stepfather, her mother went on talking. “What about the draft? Eh, Jimmy, will they call you?”

“Well, if I can work for defense I may not have to go. Anyway, I'm not going to worry about that.”

“Now, where is this place again, Jimmy? What do you do there?” asked her mother.

“Mamá, I told you it hasn't got a name yet. They just started it. I told you it's in Hoboken, New Jersey. I'll take you there as soon as we get settled.”

Her mother turned around and looked at her son Jimmy for a moment and asked, “What's the exact address?”

“Look, I told you everything now, okay?” he said, almost shouting. “I have to go anyway. Sophie, you ready?” he said, annoyed. Sophie nodded and smiled at him.

“You don't have to rush out, Jimmy,” her mother said. “Just because I wanna know where you are going and what you do. You know you got a young wife and baby now, my son. They are a great responsibility. You gotta do right by them, eh? You know that, don't you?” she said affectionately. No one spoke and it got very quiet in the room.

“I'm joining the Army when I graduate,” said Victor. “I've already made up my mind.” Everyone turned to look at him; he had been very quiet. “I'm going to volunteer. I won't wait to be drafted.”

“What?” her mother said, shocked. “Since when?”

“Since …” Victor looked at everyone. “I just told you,” he said softly.

“Man, Victor, don't be a sucketa. What the hell are you joining up for?” Jimmy asked.

Victor, looking at Jimmy, said in a firm tone, “Because I believe in my country and I believe we should defend it.”

“Man, you wasn't even born here; you was born in Puerto Rico. What country? What country you talking about?”

“Puerto Rico is part of the United States. And anyway, what if I was born there! I've been here since I was six years old and I am an American,” Victor answered.

“Oh, yeah?” Jimmy said, getting angry. “You're a spic. You can call yourself an American, all right. But they're gonna call you a spic!”

“If that's the way you want to think about things, Jimmy, then I really feel sorry for you. You got no feelings for your own country. In this country, if you work hard you can be somebody, get an education and accomplish something!”

“First of all I was brought here, man. I didn't ask to come! And in the second place, I don't believe in that sucker stuff, Victor. You wanna believe that, okay! Go ahead. It is more blessed to take, baby, than to receive leftovers. That's my motto. I don't want for them to give me no shit. I take and I get.”

“What kind of talk is that?” her mother asked. Ignoring her, the two brothers went on arguing.

“You call taking what doesn't belong to you honest? What isn't yours, right?” Victor asked.

“I take it so it's mine! What am I gonna do? Wait until I'm an old man, have nothing! Work all my life, like a slave, and then be nothing! Like him?” Jimmy shouted and pointed to her stepfather. Nilda had left Jimmy's lap when the arguing started and now stood next to her two younger brothers.

“It's better than shooting up that dope. And hanging around with hoods and criminals!” Victor said angrily.

“Stop it!” her mother said.

Jimmy started toward Victor. “Don't talk like that to me, you fucking punk!”

Victor jumped up out of his chair. Nilda felt frightened and heard herself whimpering. Her mother stood between the two brothers. “Stop … stop! … Now look … a little peace in this house. For God's sake! ¡Virgen María!” her mother shouted, almost in tears. Victor and Jimmy both stared at each other, not speaking or moving.

Aunt Delia, looking confused and worried, asked, “What is it? What? What is everybody saying? Why are the boys fighting?” Everyone ignored her.

“I musn't have this. You hear? You musn't do this. My children cannot fight like this. You are a family, brothers!” her mother said, standing firmly between them. The room was silent.

Nilda's stepfather had his hand on Victor's shoulder. “Calm down, son, you are gonna aggravate your mother,” he said.

Jimmy turned away from Victor, looked at his stepfather, and made a gesture of disgust. “Let's go, Sophie. Move it.” Sophie jumped up quickly and left the room. Jimmy followed her. Everyone was very quiet.

“Let him go. I'm glad he's going. He's up to no good. He's not my brother,” Victor said.

“Don't you ever say that!” her mother shrieked. “Never, never! He will always be your brother. You don't say that in my house!” Nilda saw her mother was trembling with rage. Victor looked at his mother for a moment, then lowered his eyes and walked out of the room.

“What?” Aunt Delia asked. “Whose house? Listen, what's going on here? What did Victor say? I have to show him where the trouble is. It happened this morning again, to a family who opened the door to a stranger. You mustn't let in strangers.” Going over to Nilda's mother, she said, “Lydia, what do you think? I should show him. No? Lydia, where it all happened, right here in the paper.”

“Delia, go to sleep; it's all over now. Everybody has to get up tomorrow. Go on to bed.” She spoke into Aunt Delia's ear.

“Go on to bed, kids. Go on,” her mother said. “Emilio, you finished? Why don't you go to sleep.”

“No, it's all right, Lydia,” her stepfather said, sounding very tired. “I'll wait for you.”

Nilda waited until Aunt Delia, Frankie and Paul had left, then said to her mother, “Mami, please let me say good-bye to the baby. Please.”

“Sure, but don't stay long; tomorrow is school,” her mother said. Nilda was relieved that her mother was not so angry anymore. Picking up her blanket, she carried it to Sophie's room. The door was shut. She waited a bit, then knocked very gently.

“Who's there?” asked Jimmy.

“Me. Can I say good-bye to the baby?”

The door opened and Jimmy stood before her. “Look, Nilda, it's late and we have to get going … and anyway, he's asleep.”

“I know … but … just let me see him … to say good-bye, that's all.”

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.

N
ilda 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.”