The Memories of Ana Calderón Page 8

  “Jesus!…No! Why didn’t you do something?…Pregnant! Tell me this isn’t so!”

  “I can’t tell you that it’s not true because it probably is!” Ana’s voice had also risen; it was filled with apprehension and confusion. “Besides, Tavo, so what if I am pregnant? We’re going to get married, aren’t we?”

  He had turned his back, and Ana, still sitting on the grass, could see only the back of his legs. Octavio was digging one of his heels into the earth. She repeated her words as she looked up at the back of his head, “Aren’t we?”

  He whirled around, looking down at her. “Not yet, Ana! Not yet!” He was almost shouting. “I thought that we would wait a couple of years…”

  He was interrupted by Ana, who had by now also gotten to her feet. “A couple of years! Tavo, what do you think we’ve been doing here all these weeks? I can’t wait a couple of years, you hear me? I can’t even wait a couple of months before ’Apá and everybody else knows what’s inside of me!”

  Ana sat down again. She drew her knees up to her chin while she covered her face with both hands. She was silent, her body was hunched over, overwhelmed by an invisible weight. The wind made a soft sound as it curled through the long grass. Far away, the echo of a barking dog drifted towards them.

  After a few minutes, Octavio crouched next to her in an attempt to make her feel better. “Look, Ana, no use worrying so much over this thing. I guess I’ll tell your father…”

  “When, Tavo?” Ana turned her face up, bursting in on his words.

  Her eyes frightened him; he had never seen such intensity. He didn’t like what he saw, and he disliked Ana even more for looking at him that way. He resented the growing feeling of being trapped and of having to do what she wanted, when she wanted.

  “Soon, that’s when.” Without another word, he got up and began walking down the hill, not waiting for Ana, who remained sitting for a few minutes. Even when she called out to him to wait for her, he pretended not to hear her and, almost running, he scrambled down the road, arriving alone at the house.

  Ana and Octavio hardly spoke to one another during the following days. They communicated rarely on their way to work and said nothing to one another while at the factory. In the meantime, Ana’s fears mounted with each day. She had no doubt now that she was pregnant, and she was intensely aware of Alejandra’s scrutiny. She sensed that her father, too, was studying her, keeping his eyes on her while she was not looking. This happened especially when she was in the kitchen, during her turns to cook or wash the dishes.

  Except for the constant chatter of the younger children, conversation was strained between the older ones, and Octavio, whose face was tightly drawn and nervous, hardly spoke to anyone. The days dragged by for Ana until she couldn’t tolerate the strain of not knowing what to do next. During one of their lunch breaks at the factory, she asked Octavio to sit alone with her.

  “If you’re afraid to tell ’Apá, I’ll tell him.”

  “No! Are you, crazy or something, Ana?” Nearly jumping up from the bench, Octavio hissed the words through clenched teeth. His brow furrowed with near terror. “I said I would tell him, and I will! Jesus…Ana…why are you trying to push me around? Give me time, please! I promised that I’ll tell him, and I will!”

  “I don’t have time, Tavo, don’t you understand? Here, look for yourself.” Ana lifted the apron she was wearing. A noticeable bulge raised her dress at the waist. “This is growing every day…every minute!”

  “¡Ay, Dios!” Octavio groaned as he wrung his hands.

  When he didn’t say anymore, Ana spoke, “What’s the matter with you? I don’t understand why you’re afraid to tell ’Apá. He knows that all of us are eventually going to get married and have babies. That’s all he’s been telling me ever since I can remember. He’ll say it’s okay for us to marry. Honest to God, Tavo, I don’t understand why you’re scared.”

  “Because I’m like your brother, that’s why. Your father will kill me! He’ll say that’s why he didn’t want me to come with the family when you left Puerto Real. Besides, what will Alejandra say?”

  Octavio’s claim to be as close as a brother faded when he mentioned Alejandra’s name. Stunned at what he had just let out, she felt as if her breath had been knocked out of her. “Alejandra! Alejan…What does she have to do with this? Tell me, Tavo! What does my sister have to do with this?” Ana had raised her voice so that several of the other workers began to stare in their direction.

  Intimidated, Octavio made shushing sounds as he tried to calm Ana by nervously patting her shoulders. At the same time, he smiled sheepishly at the people looking at them. He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper, “Forget I said that, Ana. I didn’t mean it.”

  She looked at the floor, thinking about what Octavio had just said. Suddenly she stood; her voice was calm and steady. “It’s an excuse. This brother thing is just your way out, isn’t it Tavo? You have something going on with my sister, don’t you? That’s why you don’t want anybody to know about me and you.”

  Ana took a few steps away from Octavio, but then she turned, coming close to him again. “Well, whatever it is, Tavo, I’m going to tell you one thing. This is yours,” she pointed at her belly, “and you’re not going to get out of it.”

  She worked the rest of the day as if in a dream. She was numb and her body seemed to be made of stone. She felt nothing; the only sensation she was aware of was coldness. Her insides were freezing, as were her hands, but her forehead, despite her shivering, was beaded with perspiration. During the hours she passed in inspecting shoes, Ana resolved that she wouldn’t do or say anything. She decided that there was nothing she could do to change things or to avoid whatever it was that was going to happen to her.

  Two months passed and still Octavio said nothing. He and Ana no longer met while alone, and when they were on the bus or the streetcar, they separated, he in one seat and she in another. She noticed, however, that he seemed relieved as time passed, as if he believed that she had invented the entire thing. She saw, too, that he was regaining his usual playfulness, except now it was directed at others and not at her. And she knew that he spent most of his time chatting and giggling with Alejandra, who strutted around the house showing Ana that she was relaxed and happy.

  My pregnancy was becoming more apparent, and I had to wear baggy dresses and sweaters so that no one could see how my body was changing. I couldn’t be like Tavo, who decided to be a clown. Instead, sadness was devouring me and it became deeper each day because I knew that sooner or later my father would notice my growing belly. On that day, I was positive, all the anger and bitterness against me which he had kept trapped in his heart would overflow.

  It was cold and windy on the Sunday morning of Ana’s turn to make breakfast, and everyone was still asleep. She had been unable to sleep that night, so when the first glimmer of gray light broke through the shade in her room, Ana left the bed that she shared with Rosalva. She dressed quietly, making sure to slip on the oversized sweater that she now wore constantly.

  When she went into the kitchen she was startled by Rodolfo, who was sitting at the table staring out the window. Through it he could catch sight of the alley that bordered their back yard. Nothing was moving out there; everyone in the barrio was asleep. He seemed not to notice when Ana came into the kitchen. She deliberately clanked the coffee can against the sink.

  “Buenos días, ’Apá.”

  Rodolfo remained unmoving and silent. He sat erect, poised, as if waiting for something. Ana noticed this, and, sensing that she was to be the target, began to retreat. She was about to back out of the kitchen when he bolted out of the chair, noisily knocking it over. As he lunged, Rodolfo grabbed her wrist with one hand, and with the other he took hold of the hem of her sweater. He pulled it up around her neck with a yank, then he planted the outstretched palm of his hand on her belly.

  Rodolfo’s face was a mask, and his eyes slanted more than ever. Ana was overcome by fear. She tried to pry her wrist
out of her father’s grip, but couldn’t because his hand was like an iron vise that squeezed and wrenched the bones of her hand. A moan escaped her.

  “¡Cabrona!”

  Rodolfo hissed the word through stiffened lips. Taking her shoulders with both hands, he slammed her against the stove. A half-filled pan fell onto the floor, splashing its contents, clanging and bouncing against the wall. Ana tried to escape, but a sudden blow to the side of her face threw her against the table, which screeched under her weight. Stunned, she groped with her arms in an attempt to find a way out, but just as her hands landed on the door jamb, her father’s fist caught her at the back of the head. The force of the rabbit punch sent her skidding headlong against the door leading to the front yard.

  “¡Hija de la chingada! Leave my house! Pig!”

  Ana had not screamed or made noise during her father’s attack, but the metallic clashing of falling pots and the crashing sounds of overturning chairs pulled everyone out of bed. Alejandra, in her nightgown, stood at the bedroom door, her hair disheveled and her eyes blinking as she tried to make out what was happening. Behind her crowded the startled faces of the other girls. From the service porch on the other side of the kitchen, Octavio and César scrambled out. Both were still in their shorts.

  It was César who reacted. Realizing what was happening to Ana, he lunged forward and screamed, “No! No! ’Apá, please stop!” Without thinking, César tried to intervene, and even though he stood barely above his father’s waist, he was able to intercept the next blow. But Rodolfo was blind with rage and taking the boy by the jaw lifted him off the floor, smashing him against the wall. César was knocked out by the impact and he flopped inertly onto the floor.

  His intervention, however, had given Ana the few seconds she needed to make an escape out the front door. Stumbling over the rickety porch steps, she made it outside. Rodolfo was enraged. He unbuckled his heavy leather belt, sliding it off his waist with one pull. He wrapped one end of it around his wrist leaving the metal buckle dangling. Then he went after Ana, catching her just before she could open the wire gate leading out to the street.

  He took her again by the wrist, and he held her at arm’s length as he beat her. The belt whizzed through the gray morning air, striking Ana’s body each time with a dull thud. He aimed at her face, but she was able to twist and turn so that sometimes the blows fell on her shoulders, others on her breasts, and yet others on her buttocks. She was mute; only involuntary groans escaped her, and her silence provoked and infuriated Rodolfo even more. When her legs could no longer support her, she fell to her knees while her father continued to lash her, this time striking even her face.

  By this time, the other girls had run out the door and onto the porch. Except for Alejandra, they were crying out hysterically, screaming to their father to stop. Octavio had also come outside; his face had turned the color of ashes, but he did not move or utter a sound. Rodolfo kept up the barrage, whipping his daughter as he screamed.

  “Who is the father, whore? Tell me who is the bastard, so I can kill him the way I’m killing you!”

  Rodolfo kicked Ana with all the force of his leg. He had aimed at her stomach, but she contorted her body, and when his foot landed instead on the small of her back, her mouth opened wide, letting out a groan.

  The girls’ howling brought frightened neighbors to the Calderón house. The first was Reyes Soto. When he realized what was happening, he crashed through the gate in an attempt to take hold of Rodolfo’s arms, but his strength was not enough. As he struggled to intercept the belt, Reyes received several stinging lashes. Twisting his head, he yelled at Octavio, “You son of a bitch! Come! Come! Help me!” But when he saw that Octavio was not going to help, he kept shouting until other men came running to help him.

  Octavio was paralyzed with fear, and he stayed nailed to the porch while the other men assisted Reyes. They were finally able to disarm Rodolfo by wrenching his swinging arms behind his back. They knocked him off his feet, but even though he was face down, he kicked at them and resisted by contorting his body, wiggling as he bellowed obscenities and curses.

  When Ana, dazed and close to losing consciousness, realized that the attack had ended, she was crawling on the dirt. She was disoriented and crept about in circles. She couldn’t stand up, or see anything to hold onto for balance. Her clothes were in tatters, as if she had been attacked with scissors, and her face was a mass of cuts, as were her arms and hands. She cupped her hands to her face as she coughed through her fingers, and she saw that the dribbling saliva was filled with blood and mud.

  It took two of the neighbor women to slowly move her first onto her haunches and then, with their help, up to their shoulders so that they could lift her off the ground. Her last recollection before fainting was seeing Octavio, still standing on the porch. His face blurred until it disappeared.

  I regained consciousness when Reyes, with the help of several men and women, took me to his house. Once there, however, he realized that it would be the first place that ’Apá would come looking for me. Everyone had heard him vow to find and kill me. The Soto house filled with neighbors, each one wanting to help, but everyone, I’m sure, was secretly afraid of my father.

  No one could think of what to do to help me until Doña Hiroko Ogawa made herself understood. She was a Japanese woman, the owner of the grocery store across the street on Floral Drive. No one in the barrio could pronounce her last name, so she was known only as Doña Hiroko. Like the rest of the grown-ups, she hardly spoke English, but when Doña Hiroko understood the problem, she let Reyes know that they could take me to her home. She was the only one brave enough, and, nodding her head in insistence, she showed them the way.

  When I was taken to her home, her voice was the only thing I could make out, and I sensed the pity that she was feeling for me. I was frightened and confused, and I wanted to run, but my body was crushed; every part of me was hurting. I wanted to speak, but my lips were so swollen that speaking was impossible. I wanted to see, but my eyes were puffed up and shut tightly.

  Doña Hiroko removed the tatters that clung to my body and she bathed me. I abandoned myself to her gentle hands, and while she washed the cuts and bruises, she spoke to me. I didn’t know most of her words, but I understood their meaning. I realized that she was telling me that I had to be brave because now it was me and my child, and that we were alone.

  I listened to the soft tone of her words, some in her language, some in mine. In my heart, however, I was thinking of Tavo, and that I hated him for his cowardice. He had stood by while my father tried to kill me, and he had not screamed out the truth about our baby. As Doña Hiroko spoke, I wondered if he, too, thought that I had poisoned my mother’s womb, and that perhaps he was afraid of having a baby with me. There was no way I could say this to Doña Hiroko because I was incapable of saying it to anyone. The words kept repeating in my head, even though I tried to silence them in the days that followed.

  I lost my job at the shoe factory, but the women of the barrio brought Doña Hiroko food and clothing for my keep. They visited me, chatted with me and tried to make me think that nothing important had happened. But something had occurred because my life had changed.

  One evening Doña Carmelita and Doña Trini came to visit me. Because I was lying very still, they thought that I was asleep, but I heard them whispering.

  “Doña Trini, something terrible has happened. I was still in the yard when I heard Señor Calderón raging.”

  I couldn’t hear her very well, so I moved my head and ears in the direction where the women were whispering. I heard the rest of what Doña Carmelita was saying.

  “He raised his clenched fist and cursed Ana and her unborn child! He swore that only wretchedness and tragedy would fill their empty lives. He commanded Heaven to fulfill his curse in his name. I have never in my life witnessed such a terrible thing!”

  “A curse! No! Doña Carmelita, you must be wrong. Say that you didn’t hear such wretched words!”


  “As God is my witness, I heard Señor Calderón condemn his own flesh and blood.”

  “Don’t let her know what you’ve just told me.”

  “She must know! Ana must beg her father’s forgiveness if she is to rid herself of the evil that will surely follow her and her child for the rest of their lives.”

  Their words stunned me. Had my father really cursed me and my baby? What would happen to us? I wasn’t able to sleep most of that night, thinking of the evil my father had wished on me, but when I did fall asleep I dreamed of the penitent woman. Again she told me that I would commit a grievous sin, just as she had.

  Everyone in the barrio knew that Ana was staying at the home of Doña Hiroko Ogawa; everyone except Rodolfo. It was a neighborhood secret because no one doubted that he would fulfill his promise to kill her if ever he found her. So a network developed to shelter Ana while she convalesced.

  No one seemed interested or concerned to know the identity of the child’s father. What mattered, they said, was Ana’s welfare, and afterwards that of the baby. Neighborhood people got together, putting out feelers to see where she could get a job and also where they could get a small place for her to live in. Doña Hiroko had already offered her home for that purpose, but everyone agreed that it was too close to the Calderón house.

  Ana also worried about her future. As she regained her strength she thought most of the day and many times into the night about what she would do with her life. She went through a long period of confusion. This was followed by a depression that was so dense and so heavy that she was sure that her sadness would never disappear. She missed her sisters, but she especially thought of César. Her last recollection of him was seeing his body flying through the air and crashing against a wall.

  Her thoughts of Octavio were disjointed and contradictory. At one moment she hated him for having abandoned her; at another she felt that perhaps she wasn’t good enough for him after all. Most times, Ana would lose herself in memories of the hill where she and Octavio had loved one another, and where everything had been golden and sweet smelling. These recollections would vanish, however, when she remembered his nervous evasions, his childish ways with Alejandra, and how he had hinted that there was something between them. Ana admitted that she was especially confused and devastated by his refusal to admit that he was the father of her child, even when he saw that Rodolfo had intended to kill her.