The Children of Sanchez (26 page)

But then I remembered how dirty he looked during work and it disgusted me. I said good-bye to him and went back to Irela’s house. “You’re terrific,” she said, and kept laughing to see me scrubbing at my mouth with my hand and making faces. I felt like throwing up. She asked me, “And you didn’t like it?” I told her I didn’t, thinking that I would set her a good example. But as she kept talking I realized that she could teach me things.

The next night at eight sharp, there was Fermín’s whistle. I managed to get out. As soon as he saw me, he kissed me. There was another kiss on leaving. Meanwhile he talked to me, “When I get the money together, we’ll get married, little one. You’ll just see what a pretty house I’ll fix up for you. Or I’ll take you to my homeland, my village in Jalisco.” I listened to all of this leaning on his shoulder or watching his eyes, which was what I liked best about him. But to manage to be with him was a triumph, as I would hardly ever get permission from my father. Fermín trusted me and waited hours for me to come out, sometimes with luck, other times not. Even if it rained, he was there. My father didn’t suspect me.

But I was happy only when I was at work. Once I got home it seemed unbearable to watch my father do nothing but read—or get mad if we made noise. How enraged I became when he beat Marta or Roberto with a belt. But I was not able even to speak. I couldn’t move from the spot. In those moments I wished I were made of smoke so I could just drift away.

While she did the house work, Antonia would turn on the radio and listen to Cuban music all day long. She liked the
danzón, huaracha
, and swing. She usually danced when my brothers were away. I must confess that when I saw her dance for the first time I was embarrassed. I was about twelve years old at the time and had never seen that kind of dancing. I suppose I was too strait-laced. She would listen to a
huaracha
, then begin to move her whole body from one side to the other.
Híjole
, how ugly it looked! Every once in a while she would clap her hands together to feel the music better. In spite of everything, I liked the rhythm, but I didn’t dare confess it even to myself. How I criticized my sister! I considered her indecent. When she stuck out her belly or sucked it in, it made me feel like turning away my face, but I kept looking.

Little by little, without really noticing it, I began to dance too. This would happen while we were sweeping or washing the dishes, to the music of the radio. Tonia would dance with my brother and I would watch them from the kitchen, seated on a stool, or on top of the headboard of one of the beds. One day I saw Tonia shake her shoulders while she danced. I jumped right off the stool where I was sitting and clamored, “How do you do it? Teach me! Teach me!” She good-naturedly explained it to me, but as hard as I tried, all I could manage was a ridiculous movement that made her laugh. I finally learned it after days of practice.

There were almost always dances going on in one of the
vecindad
courtyards. But of course my
papá
wouldn’t let us out. I had to dance in the house while Tonia was doing the housework. But at that time I didn’t know what a real taste for dancing was. I was still satisfied with dreaming. I would see myself going to a dance, wearing a blue dress, well groomed, everybody turning around to look at me. I was the center of attraction. A very serious, good-looking young man would be escorting me. Nobody dared say anything coarse around me; there would be nothing but respect! I would dance in a reserved, dignified way to a slow, smooth tune. I wouldn’t be like Tonia who smiled at
this one and made eyes at that one. My God, that wasn’t nice! She was a terrible flirt and had no shame.

One time my father bought new dresses for Tonia and me. Mine was gold-colored, with a branch on it picked out in tiny glass beads. It was the most elegant one I ever had and I put it on right away. The noise of a dance in progress was very loud and I began to move my feet and make signs to Tonia that she should ask permission. She shrugged her shoulders and wouldn’t. A pang of anxiety seized me. I would have to ask him myself! Tense all over, I asked my father for permission. “
Papa
, won’t you let me go to the dance? Please.” My father’s curt tone didn’t stop me. “Let the boys go with me,
papá
. Let Manuel and Roberto come with me. Please.” This time it worked. I got permission.

The dance was in the courtyard of No. 80. I went with my two brothers, one on either side of me. I didn’t put on my sweater so I could show off my dress. The courtyard was filled with people. I began to tremble all over. My brothers and I stood in a corner. Manuel, of course, found himself a partner and left us. Roberto stayed close to me. I kept my arms crossed tightly so as to hide my bosom and my excitement.

The piece finished and nobody had invited me to dance. There I was, wanting to dance so badly I could hardly stand it! I kept thinking I wouldn’t get to dance and pressed my arms together tighter. It was becoming very serious when a young man came over and asked my brother’s permission to dance with me. I found myself in the arms of Sergio, a boy who lived in the middle courtyard of the Casa Grande. At the touch of that young man’s arms, I felt bothered and I wasn’t able to follow his steps. My whole body trembled. I was stiff as a stick. He did his best to lead me but my feet were clumsy.

The piece was over and I thought, “What a fool! I couldn’t even move. I guess nobody will ask me to dance now.” I held on to my brother’s arm. Another piece began. It was a very fast and rhythmic tune in vogue then, “
Chinito, chinito, toca la malaca
,” etc. I was happy when I saw the same boy coming to ask me to dance again. The steps he took were new to me but I warmed up a little. My stiff muscles relaxed and I began to dance with spirit. All the boys watched me. I was new there. I saw some of them go over to my brother, then turn to look at me with a serious expression on their faces. At the third piece, my brother Manuel came over and took me out to dance
Nereidas
, the
danzón
. I managed to dance it with a lot of self-confidence. I relaxed my body and let the music take it. I danced eight or nine numbers with my brother and that boy.

There were dances continually after that and I fought for permission to go out, but with no luck. My father wouldn’t allow it. “No sir! Begin going to dances? Nothing doing!” I would get angry and refuse to go to bed. They would turn out the lights and I would sit there against the door frame in the dark kitchen crying, until my legs got numb. When I heard a piece I liked, what a fit I would have! It would make my head ache. But there was nothing to be done.

The fact that my father and Antonia went to her mother’s house every week made things easier for me. Roberto was almost always home at that hour, but I would sneak out to the dance. Manuel hardly ever came to the house, so I didn’t worry about him. But I had a real hatred for Roberto. He would come over while I was dancing and say, “Get home, brat.” I obeyed him because I was afraid and ashamed of making a scene in the courtyard. I was also afraid he would tell my father.

Sometimes my father didn’t go out at night and so I had to become tricky. First, I asked permission. Then I begged, cried, had tantrums. But I couldn’t get him to give his permission. One night I was sitting in the doorway of the dark kitchen, with my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands, feeling desperate. I wanted to dance so badly, I decided to sneak out. With a little effort, the wall pegs on which pails were hung could be used as a ladder to the opening in the ceiling. From there it was only a question of one step to the roof.

When I heard my father snore, I pulled over a chair with great caution, and holding my breath and carrying my shoes in my hand, I climbed up the pegs. I put on my shoes and there I was! Now, who would lend me a ladder to get down? Fortunately,
Señora
Yolanda appeared at that moment. I made a sign to her to keep quiet and asked for a ladder. Yolanda smiled when I came down the steps. “What are you doing, girl?”

“Shhh, be quiet, or my
papá
will hear us.” She took me to her house where I washed my face and combed my hair. I was ready for the dance and I wasn’t running any risk. Roberto was already asleep and so was my father.

I arrived at the dance and as usual it was full of boys. Some girls were sitting down and others standing up leaning against the wall
with their arms interlocked. You could tell from their faces a mile away how much they wanted to dance. The boys of the older gang were all together in a rough circle. Some were moving their feet, some clapping their hands, while others were just watching and picking out their next partners. A group of younger boys were practicing steps. A bulb of about 100 watts lit up the spot were the phonograph was.

It was the custom to make a circle around the best dancers and clap hands to encourage them to keep on dancing. This was when the boys would cast glances and smile crookedly out of the evil thoughts in their minds. If the girl was a good dancer, those in the circle would send in another boy to show off what he could do. There really was atmosphere. Everybody tried to make himself stand out among the rest.

When I arrived at the dance, I stayed in a corner away from the light, in case my brother was around. This would give me time to get away. Besides, I didn’t like to go to the center where the best dancers were. Roberto’s friends were my partners: Hermilio, the Gorilla; Gustavo, the Night-Smell; Angel, the Dim Light, and Tomás, the Duck.

I returned by way of the roof with the same care that I had left. My father had not awakened. I did this whenever my father wouldn’t give me permission, or didn’t leave the house. But one night I began to climb up the pegs, as usual. Suddenly, I felt a smack on the legs. That whack was followed by two more. I turned around and saw my
papá
and I felt my blood run cold. “Get down off there, fast!” When I came down, I expected to be hit some more. But fortunately, no.

Then I had my fifteenth birthday. How many things my friend Angelica Rivera and I dreamed about! Sometimes, sitting in the courtyard, we told each other what we wanted for that day. She imagined, just as I did, the courtyard all decorated and clean, with a canopy over it in case of rain, a gate that permitted only guests to enter, and chairs all around. I saw my father and brothers in dark suits, and, above all, me in a long blue dress, with spangles to make it shine. My little sister would have a long dress, too. And finally, a small orchestra would be playing. How pretty I would look to Fermín. What a couple he and I would make as we danced the waltz, with everybody’s eyes on us—my father watching me from the table and thinking that his daughter was now a
señorita
. Those were the dreams Angelica and I used to have. She would always say, “God willing.” But I would say that it had to be, that my father couldn’t let that day pass by unnoticed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t like my dreams. The day I was fifteen I didn’t even realize myself what day it was at first. I went to work; later it seemed to me that there was something I had to do that day. What a bitter taste to remember that it was my fifteenth birthday, the most important one in a girl’s life! I sat on my bench, with an apron on, my hands all stained from the shoe dye, in the dust that flew from the machine where I had been planing the soles. I was cleaning some white satin shoes. I just sat there caressing them. I felt like crying, but held back. “Some day I’ll have the money to buy the things I want. Some day my father will have to realize that I am not as bad as he says. Some day—” I finished cleaning the shoes, but when I saw the white sheen of the satin and the elegant workmanship, I couldn’t control myself any longer and went out to the toilet to cry. My soul ached to think that nobody cared about me.

I left work very late, with almost no desire to get home. I took the bus all alone. On the way I wondered why I should have such luck. Maybe I wasn’t even the daughter of my father. Maybe that was why he didn’t pay any attention to me. As I entered the tenement, I met Roberto who said, “Come on, we’re waiting for you to cut the cake.”

I brightened up and regretted all the things I had been thinking. I hurried to the house. Sure enough, there was a cake on the table, and it had an ear of corn on it made of cream. But it looked so poor to me in comparison with Antonia’s that I was at the point of feeling humiliated. Antonia, smiling, said, “Go on, there’s your cake.”

I didn’t answer. My father told me to cut it. “I don’t feel like it now. I’m tired. Put it away.” Roberto gave me a dirty look; Marta and he told me again to cut it. Roberto handed me the knife, put the little candles on it and lit them. When I saw how happy Roberto was, I relented and blew out the candles. My wish was that I should be able to study later on. The next day I went to work and who wanted ever again to think of the night before?

I was a
señorita
now and I didn’t want to play in the courtyard any more. It didn’t look right for me to be running about outdoors and I didn’t want to leave my father alone. Besides, Tonia and her friends almost always were in the courtyard talking about things that embarrassed me. She liked to play rough games like
burro
, and the one night I did play, I jumped on Tonia, who was the
burro
, and it was the embarrassment of my life when she stood up unexpectedly and I remained hanging by one foot from her shoulder. I wanted to weep
with rage, but I took it quietly and planned to get even. Several days later, Tonia and I began to argue and when she took a kick at me, I caught her foot and lifted it up so high I made her lose her balance. She fell and covered her face to hide her tears, because it had hurt her very much. She took it, too, and said nothing to my father. And so we were even.

On another occasion we were eating, and I was going to sit down. Whether intentionally or not I don’t know, but Tonia pulled the chair from under me and I fell. My soup went all over me, burning my stomach. Tonia laughed, but then from the bottom of her heart begged me to forgive her. I said nothing, just turned and looked at her with my face very serious, making everybody laugh. Later I got even when I pushed her cup quite hard just as she was bringing it to her mouth. I chipped her tooth and the edge of the cup bruised her nose. It made me laugh just as much as she had. Tonia, however, got mad. “
Ay
, how rough you are!” she said.