Nilda (11 page)

Shrugging her shoulders, she whispered to her brother, “Her mother wouldn't open up the door.”

The three of them walked back briskly. This time the wind was going with them so that it hit their backs instead of their faces and seemed to help them walk a little faster.

What does she mean her daughter is dead? Didn't she know that was Sophie? What does she mean her daughter was poisoned? Nilda walked home asking herself these questions. I wonder what Sophie told her in that other language. Maybe that's what got that lady so mad, what Sophie said to her in that language. Well, whatever she said, I didn't understand one word except when she said “Mama.” My mother would never throw me out, and she would certainly know who I am. She would recognize me right away. Of course, unless I had some sort of accident and had to get my face changed. Like in that movie where that woman had a real bad scar on her face and wore a big hat that could hide her. Then she meets a doctor and he fixes it and
makes her so beautiful that no one knows who she is anymore. But she still got the same voice. Didn't that lady know Sophie's voice? That couldn't have gotten different, she said to herself. She knew Sophie's mother did not like Puerto Ricans, and that was why she didn't like Jimmy. I guess when she told her to go back to the niggers, she meant us, Nilda thought, getting angry. Well, I hope that Jimmy and Sophie have a big wedding and get a nice apartment like Mamá says, and when that lady knocks on the door, I hope they don't let her in neither. Nilda went on thinking. The whole business made no sense to her. She walked along, now no longer frightened, and glanced at Sophie, who still held the handkerchief to her face. She felt really sorry for her, wishing deeply that there were something she could do.

They reached Lexington Avenue and Nilda remembered the party and began to worry about being late for the church service. It was supposed to start at about five P.M. She was going to meet Benji at four o'clock and get together with Petra and Marge; they had to plan where they were going to sit at the service and what they were going to do.

“What time is it?” she asked her brother.

“I don't know. I don't have a watch.”

“What time do you think it is? Is it four o'clock?”

“No, it can't be. We left at one; it didn't take us that long. It can't be more than about three o'clock.”

They soon reached their building and started up the stairway. As they walked into the apartment, Sophie said in a quiet voice, “I'll take the baby, Victor.” Taking Baby Jimmy, she disappeared into the long hallway. Nilda heard the door to her room slam shut.

“Victor? Is that you? You are back so soon?” Nilda heard her mother's voice. Her mother walked into the living room with a worried look on her face. “¿Qué pasó, chico? What happened? Didn't I just hear Sophie? Did you get there all right?”

“We got there all right, Mom.” Victor looked seriously at his mother. “All I know is I waited downstairs. Nilda went up with Sophie and the baby. I heard some shouting, but I was standing in the outside hall and nothing sounded clear.”

Looking directly at Nilda, her mother asked, “Well, what happened? Did she get to see her mother? Was there anyone home? Was she in?”

“We got up there, but the lady wouldn't open the door.”

“What do you mean she wouldn't open the door?” her mother asked, her voice getting louder.

“She said that her daughter is dead. That somebody poisoned her. That Sophie should go back to the …” Nilda hesitated.

“The what?” her mother asked urgently. “The what?”

“She said the niggers. To go back to the niggers because they poisoned her, I think.” She paused and then went on, “Mamá, is the food ready? I'm really hungry; can I eat? I have to meet Benji, remember?”

“Did she open the door at all, Nilda?”

“No, not at all. We only heard her talking and a dog barking. Sophie said it was her dog. Can I eat? Mami, I have to go soon.”

“Did Sophie tell her about the baby?” her mother asked.

“Yes, she told her. She even told her his name, too. Please, Mamá, can I—”

“Okay,” her mother interrupted. “Wait a second now!” Picking up her hand, she covered her eyes. For a moment Nilda watched her mother silently, afraid she was going to burst into tears. But then her mother lowered her hand and Nilda saw that even though she looked upset, she was not going to cry. Turning to Victor she said, “Victor, feed yourself and Nilda. I'm going in to speak with Sophie. Everything is on the stove. We can't have no seconds today, so just fill the plates once. And Nilda, you don't go without telling me. I have to know the time you'll come back. You hear?” There was a tenseness in her voice. “Wash up first.”

Nilda ran into the bathroom and washed. She was hungry and anxious to meet her friends. There was going to be food tonight at the church, so she didn't mind not having seconds. Her thoughts were filled with going to the party, listening to the music, the speeches and making plans with her friends.

N
ilda hurried over to Benji's building. It was grey out and getting dark. Still no snow, she thought. Walking up the stoop steps she could see inside the hallway. Benji was waiting next to the hall radiator, trying to keep warm. She pushed open the inside door and said, “Hi, Benji. Did you hear the news on the radio? All the radio stations were talking about what happened.”

“Yeah. Man, everybody up in my house was talking and my mother and abuelita was crying—”

“The Japanese bombed the whole United States Navy in Pearl Harbor. That's what some of the news said, and now we are gonna be at war,” Nilda interrupted excitedly.

“Papá made us all get down on our knees and pray. As soon as everybody got up again and started to talk, I grabbed my coat and split.” With a worried look he asked, “Nilda? Do you think they will bomb us here?”

“No,” she answered reassuringly. “My brother Victor says we are too far away, that they don't got planes to fly that far. You don't have to worry.”

“Good,” he said, smiling at Nilda. “What a surprise, huh, Nilda?”

“Not to my papá,” Nilda said. “He knew we would have to get into the war because of Franco. You know, Hitler and Mussolini helping him all the time. My papá said sooner or later it would happen. He was not surprised at all.” She paused and saw that Benji was looking at her confusedly. She wanted to explain it further to Benji but remembered about the service tonight. “Hey,
Benji, are we still gonna have the meeting and the party at your church?”

“Oh, yes, Papá said that it is a good thing. We need the meeting because it is sin and the devil that causes war and we got to pray and fight evil.”

“Good,” sighed Nilda with relief. Looking out toward the street, she said, “I wonder where Petra and Marge are. They better not be late.”

“They're listening to the radio, I bet you.” Leaning against the wall next to the hot radiator, he moved closer to Nilda. Smiling up at her he said, “I'm glad you're coming with us, Nilda.” Nilda smiled back at him and nodded her head. Benji went on, “Sometimes, though, I wish Petra wouldn't have to bring that Marge with her all the time. We can't do anything without worrying about her, and she can be such a pest.”

“Petra don't like it neither, but you know how strict her parents are, especially her father. She can't go no place without her little sister. That Marge is worser now that she got them Shirley Temple dolls, and the way her mother combs her hair, too. You know what? She wants me and Petra to call her Shirley. She told me she's going to change her name and—”

“Not me! Never happen!” interrupted Benji. “I'm not gonna call her Shirley. Her name is Marge López and that's just what I'm going to call her. I don't care.”

“Me neither!” Nilda said emphatically. “And I don't care if she does get mad and cries. She's such a crybaby and she only does it so we can feel sorry for her and give in.” After a short pause Nilda jumped up quickly. “Benji. Did you tell her about that man Justicio? Doña Amalia's husband? Or about our plan?”

“No, of course not. Nilda, do you think I'm stupid? Petra wouldn't tell her neither; you know what a tattletale Marge is. If she knew, she would rat on us, man! And their father is so strict,
they could never be allowed to play with us again. I know that she doesn't know nothing about it.”

“Listen, what do you think? Will he do it tonight?”

“Well, at the last meeting he almost did it. He says next time he's going in and getting his wife out and ain't nobody going to stop him. You know, my papi says that when Don Justicio gets drunk, the devil gets into him so that nobody can control him.”

“But Don Justicio's still gonna try tonight, ain't he?” asked Nilda anxiously. Benji nodded his head. “Did you ever see it? I mean the whole thing, Benji?”

“Well, once I almost did, but they grabbed him right away and his wife, Amalia, fainted. All the ladies were screaming. I only saw a little.”

“Hey, where should we sit? What do you think?”

“Well,” Benji said seriously, “I know just where to sit so we can see the whole thing. But you and Petra have to follow me fast, or somebody else will sit there. Now, when Don Justicio makes his speech, he says the same thing every time and then he does it. Well, when he starts his speech, I'll tap you and you tap Petra, because they grab him fast since everybody is usually ready for Don Justicio, okay?”

“Right! I'll be ready, Benji,” Nilda nodded.

“Hey, how are we gonna tell Petra in front of Marge?”

“Let's have a game of hide-and-go-seek, Benji. You be It. I'll watch where Petra hides and tell you, then I'll go with Marge. You can find Petra and tell her our plan, okay?”

“Sounds good. Only, you know how Papi feels about my playing games. What if he sees us? Man, then I'll be in trouble for sure.”

“Don't worry, Benji. I'll look out for them; I won't hide far. When I see them coming out of the building, I'll yell ‘Ungawa Ungawa,' like in the Tarzan movies. That's what Tarzan yells all the time when he's in trouble. All right, Benji?”

“Okay, Nilda.”

The door flung open; Petra and Marge walked in. Nilda saw that they had on their good Sunday clothes, almost brand-new. She had not gotten anything this year and wore the same coat for school and Sunday. Remembering she had a torn pocket where the lining was showing, Nilda slowly covered the spot with her hand.

Marge had dozens of curls that looked like tiny bedsprings all over her head; several came down over her forehead, partially covering her eyes. Small red bows were pinned at either side of her head to match her red knee socks. Petra wore her hair in two neat braids tied with blue ribbons. Both sisters had fair complexions and blonde hair; however, Marge had an abundance of thick hair, very golden in color. Her family was very proud of Marge's hair and looks. “She's the picture of Shirley Temple,” their mother would say. Marge always wore the latest Shirley-Temple-style clothes. Nilda had heard their mother discussing Marge with a neighbor once. “She even has dimples like Shirley Temple,” she had said. “People mistake her for Shirley Temple sometimes. They just stare at her.”

Nilda remembered waiting for the two girls one day to go out to play. She had watched as Marge was getting her hair combed. With painstaking effort, their mother undid one of the many lumps of hair that had been wrapped up and knotted in a long thin piece of white rag. Then, taking the lump of hair and wetting it with a green sticky solution, she twisted it around her finger with a comb, jerking it loose. It would separate into one tiny, short blonde curl. With a smile and a chuckle of satisfaction, their mother would continue to make another curl. Boy, Nilda thought, it seemed to take forever to get out to play that day. She had been grateful that Petra always wore two plain braids. Petra was two years older than Marge and one year older than Nilda. She was easygoing by nature, never asserting her authority as the oldest in the group.

“Hi!” said Petra. “Is there going to be a party and a service tonight, Benji?”

“Oh, yeah. Papi said now we need it so that we can fight the devil and sin that cause wars.”

“My papá knew we were going to have the war,” Nilda announced. “You see, they are just puppets of Hitler and Mussolini and Fascism.”

All three children turned and, with confused expressions, looked at Nilda. After a short silence, Petra asked, “Fascism? What is that?”

“Well,” Nilda said, “that's when they kill people. Like they don't let you be free. And they also kill little kids.”

“Oh,” Marge said, “that's their religion.”

“No!” answered Nilda. “It's not a religion.”

“Well, I never heard of it. My father never mentioned it to us,” Marge said.

Nilda looked around her. All three of them were waiting for her to speak. “Look,” she went on, “when you want to be free, okay? And you do what they want, or else!”

“My father says we do what he wants, or else!” Marge said quickly. Petra and Benji giggled.

“Your father is not gonna kill you and drop bombs and destroy whole villages, now is he?” Nilda yelled furiously. “Just like Hitler and the Japs who bombed the whole U.S. Navy? You gotta know that, I hope, for your own sakes!”

A door opened from the back of the hallway, and a voice yelled, “Hey, shut up. Get out of the hall and go play outside. Stop that God damn racket.” They all heard a loud slam as the door shut.

Benji looked at Nilda and whispered, “I get it now.”

“Me too,” said Petra.