She Had No Choice (13 page)

Sofía could make a piece of steak go a long way, and round steak and gravy was one of the family’s favorite dishes, especially when she made hot biscuits from scratch to go with it. Times were tough, and the family didn’t eat like people who had money, but Mama always did her best to make sure her family was well fed. There was no sliced white bread or creamy whole milk for the Gonzalez family, but they always had enough food to eat.

As children do, Eva and her siblings found ways to entertain themselves. Sometimes they challenged each other to foot races in the yard or on the street when there was no traffic in the evening. They had marbles to play with and sometimes they played “kick the can” to see whose aluminum can would go the farthest.

Somehow, as they got a little older, they managed to lay their hands on an old bicycle, and they would all take turns riding it. Once, they even built a scooter using two wooden fruit boxes and wheels they had rescued from someone’s trash.

When they were younger, they sat on the wooden floor next to their parents’ bed and listened to the old radio. The children sat in awe, listening to the adventures of Red Ryder, the Lone Ranger and The Shadow before going to bed. This was their nightly escape from their hard life. Papa was usually gone to town in the evenings, and Mama was busy catching up on housework or tending to a baby. The stories were so exciting to the children that they sometimes carried the adventures to bed with them in their heads, playing them over and over in their minds as they drifted off to sleep.

They were happy when they were playing, as most children are. But once Carlos came home, the mood quickly changed to somber. Neither Mama nor the children ever knew what kind of mood he was in or how he was going to act. They all tried to stay out of his way as much as they could. He only needed the slightest provocation for one of them to receive a slap or a punch, maybe even drawing his ire to use his leather belt or a switch from the nearest tree.

Carlos’s punishment of choice was whipping the children with his leather belt or a green switch. A switch was a small branch Carlos made the offending child cut down from a locust tree in their yard for him to use on them. He or she was not allowed to scream or cry, just take the beatings in silence or the punishment would be worse.

Eva counted the days until she could be free of Carlos. She saw children at school every day that did not have to endure the life she and her brothers did. Her father’s abuse made her more and more determined to find a way to escape her dire situation and make a better life for herself.

This determination is what sparked hope in her, and that hope helped her get through each difficult day. One day she would be free from that cruel man, she told herself, just like her mother had gotten free from Tía Consuela. But Eva hoped she would not make the same mistakes her mother did that trapped them all in their miserable circumstances.

Chapter 10:
The Secret

Though Sofía loved all her children equally, she knew that Carlos always favored his first-born son, Eduardo. Second to Eduardo, he treated the other boys equally. But he never gave any kind of positive attention whatsoever to Eva. He rarely even spoke to her unless he was ordering her to do something or calling her a fat cow if he thought she was being lazy.

Carlos never accepted Eva as his daughter, and he consistently treated her differently from the other children. He only saw her as another pair of hands to work, which was helpful to him, yet another mouth he had to feed. Sometimes Sofía and Carlos would argue over how he treated Eva, and Carlos would get so angry he would slap or back-hand Sofía. Eva witnessed the arguments and the abuse, but she didn’t understand it.

“
It’s the drink,” she told Eva, “that often causes him to take his anger out on me and you children.”

“
But it’s not right, Mama.”

“
Just do as he asks, mi’ja, and stay out of his way,” Mama advised.

They couldn’t get through the day or have a peaceful meal without somehow making Carlos mad. Then someone would pay.

Even though they lived in town and had close neighbors, no one ever reported any spousal or child abuse to the authorities. Eva wondered why the teachers ignored the children’s bruises and never reported them. Sofía and her children were trapped, without hope.

Then another daughter was born. They named her Lydia. She became the apple of Carlos’s eye. She could do no wrong. Eva didn’t understand why her papa loved Lydia and not her. One day, when she was twelve years old, she learned why her papa never loved her.

* * * *

It was a hot, humid Sunday afternoon in the late spring of 1944. Carlos had been drinking out in the backyard, and Eva caught his ire. The back door of their rundown little house quickly creaked open and Eva ran in.

“
Mama!” The girl called out in a weak, pained voice.

Mama looked up from her cooking, a baby on her hip, and pulled out a chair for Eva. “What’s wrong?”

“
Papa. He whipped me again,” she cried. Tears from her muffled cries, mingled with dirt, were caked on her cheeks.

“
Come, sit.” Eva sat down and bent forward. Pulling up the back of Eva’s shirt with one hand, Mama surveyed her injuries. “No blood this time, mi’ja, just welts. But I’ll get some salve. It’ll make it feel better. I think there’s some in the bathroom.”

Sofía didn’t ask what happened, she didn’t need to. She already knew. Papa had just whipped the girl again in the backyard with a green switch from their elm tree. Sofía had heard nothing because Carlos warned the girl that if she cried he would beat her harder.

Looking out the cracked kitchen window, Sofía saw Carlos in a dirty T-shirt and work pants sitting on an old tree stump, opening another bottle of beer. The green switch lay on the ground by his feet. It was late afternoon and, from the number of empty bottles on the ground around him, she knew he already had a few.

As Sofía watched him, her face grew red and hot with anger and frustration. She loathed this prison of fear in which he held them all captive, but she was helpless to break free.

She didn’t bother to ask her daughter what set him off this time because it didn’t matter anymore. Carlos always had plenty of excuses – she didn’t move fast enough, she was in his way, she forgot to do something he had ordered her to do, she looked at him the wrong way – the list went on. It never took much to get him started.

“
I don’t understand, Mama,” Eva said as she wiped her eyes with her hands. “Why does he hate me so much?”

Mama’s turned away from the window and handed her daughter a damp kitchen towel to wipe her face. Then she set the baby down in the old wooden high chair.

Sofía knew the day was coming when she would have to tell Eva the truth about Carlos, but she thought she would have more time. Eva was only twelve. Mama hoped for a few more years, but Eva was asking questions and it could not be put off any longer.

“
I didn’t want to tell you until you were older, mi’ja, but I guess it’s time.” Sofía hoped she could spare her innocent young daughter from the truth of her mother’s indiscretions.

“
Tell me what, Mama?” Eva sat up straight in the chair and her attention was riveted on Sofía’s next words.

“
I’m so ashamed, niña.” Sofía felt heat rising in her face and couldn’t look Eva in the eye. She looked down at the floor, then at her hands, wiping them on her worn apron.

“
I didn’t want you to know, but I suppose it’s really better that you do.”

“
Know what, Mama?” Eva insisted.

“
Papa…well…” she paused, wringing her hands, struggling to find the words. “Well, he’s not your real father,” Mama blurted out, embarrassedly.

“
What? What do you mean?” Eva was stunned and trying to understand what her mama was attempting to tell her.

“
I was with another man before I met Carlos. His name was Enrique. He was your father, mi’ja. Please forgive me.” Sofía’s voice was shaking, her eyes swimming with tears.

“
Yes, Mama, I forgive you. But I want to know more.”

“
It’s a long story, mi’ja.” Sofía just wanted this conversation to be over.

“
Tell me, Mama,” Eva pressed.

“
No, niña, I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older.” Sofía couldn’t look at Eva and her words were quick. “But for now, that’s all I’m going to say.” Then she hurried off to the bathroom to find the salve.

From that day on, Eva never called Carlos her “Papa” again.

Even though she was surprised to learn the man she always thought was her father was not, she was glad that now she understood why he treated her like he did. She realized she had done nothing to cause his hatred and cruelty toward her, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

Although Eva appreciated her mama telling her the truth about Carlos, she knew it meant she would never know her real father. At first she was sad about that, but somehow this new revelation set her free. She no longer felt an obligation to love Carlos simply because he was her father. She no longer desired his love or approval. For her mother’s sake, though, she would not disrespect him because she never wanted her mother to be ashamed of her. So, she continued to be an obedient and helpful child.

Chapter 11:
An Unfortunate Union

On occasion, Carlos allowed Sofía to go into town to do some shopping or go to mass at the Catholic Church. She always tried to take Eva with her, giving them a little time together and showing her daughter there was more in the world than farm work and house work. They usually had to bring the youngest with them, little baby Lydia.

Attending mass gave Sofía a break from the brutality of her life and the constant responsibilities of all the children. She could sit in peace and quiet for awhile, praying and thinking, surrounded by the beauty of the stained glass windows, candlelight and soft music. The baby slept, and Eva sat quietly beside her in the wooden pew.

Being at mass, listening to the priest and the choir, also reminded Sofía that she and Carlos were not legally married, which filled her with guilt and shame. She had been living as Carlos’s wife for twelve years now, and they had many children together.

Surely in God’s eyes we must be married, she often told herself, trying to justify her marital situation. But, when she went to mass, just being in the sanctuary reminded her that she was not married in the eyes of the Church. And at confession, she was painfully aware that the priest knew she had many children with a man to whom she was not married. Even though Father Marcelo tried to be kind and understanding of her situation, she knew he disapproved of her sin.

After mass, she and her girls went to several stores for their shopping. Sofía was acquainted with some women in the Hispanic community, wives of other farm workers, neighbors, women who also attended mass sometimes, and women who worked in the stores she occasionally shopped in. Many of them knew that she and Carlos were not married, and she could feel their obvious disapproval.

“
So many children and they’ve never married.” “Who does she think she’s fooling?” “Why won’t that man marry that poor woman?”

Many of the women would whisper behind her back or as she walked by. Some were even so bold as to say out loud what they were thinking, as if they were only talking to themselves or to each other, but certainly intended for Sofía to hear. She knew what they meant, and it cut through her like a sharp knife. In her heart she felt that she was Carlos’s wife, after all the years they have lived together and the many children they share. But she understood that in the eyes of the Catholic Church and other people who knew them, they were not married.

Occasionally, if Carlos was in one of his rare good moods, Sofía would venture to bring the subject up. Late one Saturday morning, he had just gotten up and wandered over to the dining table. He hadn’t gone out drinking the night before because he worked late into the evening and his boss had given him a cash bonus for staying late. Sofía set down before him a good breakfast of chorizo, fried eggs and fresh tortillas. He cleaned the plate and was feeling relaxed and satisfied.

“
Carlos, don’t you think it’s time we get married?” she asked, in as sweet a voice as she could possibly speak.

“
What for?” he asked, starting to get irritated. “We’ve been together a long time, and we have all these kids,” he said, motioning with his hand to the children playing on the floor. “I don’t know why we need to do that.” He always dismissed the idea whenever she brought it up.

“
But Carlos, you don’t have to face the priest and see what he’s thinking. I feel so ashamed in front of him,” she said as she poured him another cup of coffee.

“
Then don’t go to church. You don’t
have
to go.” Carlos truly wished she would stop going, then maybe she would stop bringing up the subject of marriage.

“
And the women in town, they’re always whispering behind my back when I’m shopping.  Sometimes they just come right out and say things.”