Nilda (21 page)

“Sssss … Sssss.”

“Boooo.”

“Kill the Japs!”

“Dirty Nazis!”

“A slip of the lip will sink the ship.”

“Ssssss … Mussolini the monkey … ha ha ha …”

The majority of the group were young people. “Kill, kill a Jap!” they called out. The politician and some of his men took large sticks and gave the effigies a few hard blows. A huge cheer and a roar resounded over the entire street. Everyone began to hit the effigies. They were hung high, about six feet off the ground, and people jumped up to reach them. Someone pulled off Mussolini's tail. The stuffing started to come out of the Hitler dummy.

Some teen-age boys finally tore the dummies down. Nilda watched, standing a bit of a distance away, afraid she might get hurt. Dummy limbs were tossed around, some of the heads rolled. Tojo's head burst, the stuffing coming out of his smile.

Finally, all the pieces were heaved onto the large pile of wooden crates, cardboard and paper, and the mountain of trash was set ablaze. The entire street lit up, casting an orange glow,
silhouetting the people, cars and buildings. The music started again and Kate Smith sang loudly, “God bless America, land that I …”

Trucks were parked along the street, selling war bonds and war stamps. Nilda wished she could buy a war stamp. She knew better than to ask her mother; they were still on public assistance. Her brother Victor was allowed to send only very little, or they would be taken off the welfare rolls. Some of her friends had war-stamp books. Each time they bought a war stamp, they pasted it in the book. A full book was worth as much as eighteen dollars and seventy-five cents, as much as a war bond.

“Nilda, hey Nilda? I gotta cut, man,” Benji shouted.

“Can't you wait a little while more? I can walk home with you then,” she said.

“No. Man, you know Papi. Besides, I gotta go home with my brothers. They're leaving now.”

“All right,” she said, walking over to Benji.

“Hey, ain't that man your uncle? Over there, Nilda.” Benji pointed across the street.

Nilda turned and saw Leo. “Oh, yeah, that's Leo. I'm going over there. See you, Benji.”

“See you, Nilda,” Benji said. Nilda walked over to the other side of the street. Leo was standing and looking at the truck selling the war bonds and war stamps.

Music was still blaring out. Patriotic tunes. The warbond rally workers called out to the people in the street. “Come on, folks. Buy more war bonds and stamps! Help our fighting men. Make us stronger. Buy war bonds; they identify you! Do your bit! Make 1943 the best year of all. Buy a war-stamp book! Buy war stamps, everyone; they identify you!”

“Leo?” she said, tapping him on the arm.

“Nilda? Hello, nena; what are you doing out so late? And by yourself?”

“It's okay. Paul and Frankie are here somewhere and Mami gave me permission.”

“Well, and where is my kiss, eh?” Nilda put her arms around Leo, giving him a hug and a kiss. “So tell me how you are?” he asked. She noticed that underneath his coat he still had his bartender's apron on.

“I'm okay. I got almost all A's in my school this term.”

“Did you now?” He smiled and shook his head, “Just like your mamá, so smart. How's everybody? How's Emilio?”

“He's like the same. You know,” she said. “All right, I guess.”

“Victor? You hear from him?”

“Yes, once in a while. He's somewhere in North Africa, but we get mail and the return address is to Washington, D.C., so we don't know exactly where he is.”

“He's a wonderful boy. We are all very proud of him,” Leo said. “Listen, nena, I got something for you, wait.…” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a book. “This here is a war-stamp book. See?”

“Oh, Leo! Honest?” she yelled.

“Sure. Look, see?” he opened up the book. “I already got two dollars' worth of stamps in it. I just bought it for you. Right now. You have to keep it and, when you can, you buy a war stamp and you paste it in.”

Jumping up, Nilda gave Leo a hug. She grabbed the book. “Wow, thank you so much!” She smiled. “Wait till I show Mami.”

“I have to go back to work at the bar. Listen, honey, I'll walk with you to the house; then I have to go. I only came out to see the rally and get the book of stamps.”

They walked toward Madison Avenue. Nilda loved being with Leo. He never hollers at me or criticizes me like Mamá, she thought.

“Why don't you come to see us? Concha and me, eh?” he asked. “We like to see you, and Concha always asks me how you are.”

Nilda smiled and shrugged. Her mother had forbidden her to go to Leo's without permission. She knew her mother did not like Doña Concha, the woman Leo lived with.

“Nilda, tell your mamá that I will be coming by soon to visit, and to see how she is, and how everyone is. All right?”

Nodding, Nilda asked, “When?”

“Soon. Pay my respects to Don Emilio. Anything that I can do that Lydia needs … never mind, I will tell her myself.” They stood by the stoop of her building. “Go on upstairs; it's cold and I have to get back to work.”

Nilda leaned forward and said, “Thanks a lot for the stamp book.”

“Oh, well I'll give you some more money for stamps when I see you again. You know, Nilda, the value goes up and in seven years you get twenty-five dollars instead of eighteen.” Bending over, he kissed her cheek. “Now, nena, don't forget to tell your mamá I asked for everyone and that I send my respects. Yes?”

“Okay, I won't. Good-bye, Leo.” She went into her building, holding her book of stamps. Man, she thought, wait till I bring this to school tomorrow and show everybody. As she climbed up the steps, she remembered something was bothering her. Petra! she thought. Well, I don't care; let her hang out with who she likes. Annoyed at being called a tomboy, she said to herself, I'm proud to be a tomboy! She tried leaping three steps at a time instead of her usual two. “Made it!” she said out loud. And she went on to try several more times; each time she was able to jump up the three steps at once. She reached her landing and was glad to be home to show her mother her new war-stamp book.

“D
on't forget, now, what I told you. Ten cents on the number 305 straight, and eighteen cents on the number 382 combination. And tell Don Jacinto that Aunt Delia will bring down her own list of numbers as usual. That she is a little late today; she had to go to the clinic. All right?”

“Okay, Mami,” Nilda said.

“I have to mail this package for Jimmy today.” Her mother worked quickly and quietly, putting some jars of food and candy, boxes of crackers and cookies, and small tins of sardines into a cardboard box. “He is getting better, thank the good Lord and my faith in God,” her mother said, almost in tears. The package was being sent to Lexington, Kentucky, to a federal penal institution for the rehabilitation of criminal drug addicts. Jimmy had been there for three months, serving a prison sentence of not less than one year and one day and not more than five years. “I wish I could afford somehow to go and see my son. He was so sick and I never saw him. Maybe if we hit the numbers, I could make the trip,” she said, almost to herself.

Nilda looked out of the kitchen window; hardly a breeze. It was sticky and hot out. She had not gone to camp this summer; her mother had told her that things could not work out and that she would have to wait until next year. At first, Nilda sulked and was angry with her mother, but after receiving the news about Jimmy, she realized that there was no sense in even thinking about anything like camp.

They had first found out about Jimmy through a phone call from Sophie. Sophie had telephoned at Don Jacinto's store. Nilda's mother had returned in tears, almost incoherent, after
the phone call. Nilda had to call in a neighbor. Through the efforts of her stepfather and some other people, her mother had finally calmed down and was put to bed. Nilda had heard them talking. Jimmy had been sentenced for grand larceny, from one to ten years. But because it was his first offense, and he had given himself up as a drug addict, his sentence had been reduced. He had been very sick, in critical condition, and so they had sent him to a drug rehabilitation program.

Later they had found out that Sophie, frightened of the police, had left Jimmy. He had threatened to find her and kill her. She had gotten in touch with a priest and her aunt. The aunt was persuaded to take Sophie and Baby Jimmy in to live with her. An older man, an immigrant from the Ukraine who had escaped Europe before the war, was boarding at her aunt's home. He married Sophie, and Nilda's family learned that Sophie was pregnant again, soon to give birth to another child.

“Next week I have to make a package for Victor, may the Lord keep, protect and look after him at all times,” her mother said, making the sign of the cross. “And may the good Lord protect my Paul and maybe not send him overseas.”

Paul was in boot camp; Nilda missed him very much and wrote to him as often as she could. She had a picture of him in his sailor suit; it was neatly framed and sat on her bureau.

“Nilda? When are you going down to Jacinto's with my numbers? Tomorrow?”

“Mami, can I have some money for an ice pop?”

“Now where am I gonna get money for an ice pop? You are already a señorita! Not a baby anymore! Don't ask me silly questions.”

Nilda made a face. Her mother looked at her. “Don't start with those faces like a monkey. Maybe when Papá gets better soon, I can go to work. I spoke to Doña Carmen and Doña Rosa; they are working over in the new defense factoría at 110th Street.
Sewing parachutes; piecework, and the pay is good. Bueno. We'll see; maybe I can work something out when you go back to school. It's your papá I hate to leave. I'm afraid, but maybe if he keeps on the same, and does not get worse … Thank God he has not gotten any worse!” Pausing, she looked at Nilda. “Nilda, por favor, now will you do as you are told!”

“Okay, okay. I'm going. Bendición, Mamá.”

“Dios te bendiga. Now don't forget: 305 straight for ten cents and 382 combination for eighteen. I will light the candles and pray that maybe the numbers come out. You never know and one has to believe.…”

Nilda heard her mother's voice trail off as she left the apartment. She walked down into the street, heading toward Don Jacinto's grocery, holding a Spalding ball. She bounced it on the sidewalk. Nilda looked around her; it was hot and deserted in the street. Bored, she watched the way the ball hit the pavement—up! … and up! … and up!

She seldom saw Petra anymore. And now that she had gotten her period, her mother frowned on the games she loved to play: ball, hide-and-go-seek, ringo-leevio-tap-tap-tap, hopscotch—all the games she played with the kids in the street.

“You are too old! A señorita does not behave like that!” her mother would say, or, “Nilda, come away. What are you doing with all those boys?” and “Don't sit with your knees apart. What kind of a way is that for a young lady to sit!” I don't feel all that different, Nilda thought. She hated it when her mother said those things and embarrassed her that way.

There was not much to do and so she looked forward to the new school and next term. Junior high. Wow, she thought. That gave her a real feeling of growing up.

N
ilda knelt on the foot rail by the casket and said a few Hail Marys and Our Fathers. Making the sign of the cross, she stood up, closed her eyes and, bending forward all the way, kissed her stepfather on the lips. His lips felt cold and hard, like the sidewalks she had touched as she played in the wintertime. She opened her eyes, startled by the impact and looked at the cadaver. Up close, he had a purplish reddish hue, like someone had put dark make-up on him. Nilda checked an impulse to reach out and touch him, realizing that there were many people watching.

The dark somber funeral parlor was crowded with people. There were three chapels, each occupied with a funeral party. Nilda had gone to see each one, and all three were identically decorated. None of the rooms had windows. A pink-and-maroon embossed wallpaper, soiled in spots, was interrupted by the dark brown woodwork. The floor was covered by a threadbare carpet with an Oriental design; throw rugs had been placed here and there to cover the worst areas. Large potted plants were placed at either side of the casket, which was covered and surrounded with floral wreaths.

TO OUR BELOVED FATHER AND HUSBAND

EMILIO RAMÍREZ

FROM HIS BEREAVED WIFE AND CHILDREN

LYDIA, JIMMY, VICTOR,

PAUL, FRANK AND NILDA

COMRADE AND BROTHER

SINCERE CONDOLENCES TO THE RAMÍREZ FAMILY

FROM ALL OF US AT THE WORKERS CLUB OF 102ND STREET

REST IN PEACE

SINCERELY FROM LEO ORTIZ

AND CONCHA VELEZ AND FAMILY

OUR SINCEREST SYMPATHY

TO THE RAMÍREZ FAMILY

FROM THE NEIGHBORS AT 905 EAST 104 STREET

TO OUR DEAR SISTER AND FAMILY

IN HER HOUR OF NEED

EXPRESSING OUR CONDOLENCES

ROSARIO AND WILLIE JIMÉNEZ

AND CHILDREN ROBERTO AND CLAUDIA

There were all kinds of wreaths; some round, some heart-shaped, large ones, small ones. Nilda inhaled, and the sweet smell of the flowers and stale air made her nauseated. She recalled the overwhelming fragrance in her secret garden, fresh and clean, making her feel cool all over.

Nilda stepped down and stood aside. She looked at her mother who would be the last on line to say good-bye to her stepfather. Aunt Rosario sat with her mother, consoling her. Willie, her husband, sat apart with Aunt Rosario's two children.

Next to Willie sat Aunt Delia, crying quietly and nodding her head to anyone who spoke to her. Paul walked in; he had been home since yesterday, on special leave from the Naval base in California. Greeting everyone, he sat down next to his mother, taking his place as the oldest son present.