by Mary Alice
Ofelia nervously smoothed out her blouse again as she approached. “Uh, hi. I’m Ofelia Alvarez?” She said it like a question, maybe hoping the name would ring a bell. It didn’t. The woman’s gaze was impassive. “I’m looking for my aunt. She works here.”
The woman reached for a black ledger and opened it with a crisp movement. “All right. What’s her name?”
“Louisa Alvarez.”
She frowned and began going through the names in the book, muttering, “Alvarez . . . Alvarez . . . Alvarez.” When she looked up again, her face was blank. “Sorry, there is no Louisa Alvarez on our payroll.”
Luz knew the tone of the “sorry” so well. It was the same tone used by the woman at the college admissions office who told her there was no scholarship money available. It was the same nuance of the bank loan officer when she went for a car loan. They said the word, but they weren’t sorry at all.
Ofelia was stunned. “But she has to be!” She rushed closer to the woman’s desk and began speaking louder, as if somehow that would make the woman understand better. “Her name’s gotta be there. I spoke to her just six months ago. She’s been working here for, I dunno, at least twenty years!”
“I’ve only been here since May,” the woman replied, “and I don’t know anyone by that name. She must’ve left just before I got here. Did you try her at home?”
Ofelia’s face contorted like she was about to cry. “Where’s Mrs. P? She knows her.”
The woman tilted her head, her interest captured by the nickname. “Mrs. P?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Penfold. She owns the place.”
“I know who Mrs. Penfold is. How do you know her?”
“I used to work here, too. My name’s Ofelia Alvarez,” she said again. “She’ll know who I am.”
The woman closed the ledger and folded her hands over it. “I’m Margaret Johnson, the general manager here. I replaced Lucinda Pfizer.”
“Yeah, I knew Lucinda.”
“I know the name of everyone who is currently working at the nursery and I don’t know a Louisa Alvarez.” She looked at Ofelia’s crestfallen face and revealed a modicum of empathy. “But let me see if I can find Mrs. Penfold for you. Take a seat, please,” she said, indicating the sofa as she rose. “I’ll be right back.”
Luz watched the slender young woman walk with straight-shouldered grace into the next room.
In contrast, Ofelia paced the floor, chewing her nails. “Ten to one she was a debutante somewhere,” she muttered. “You could iron a shirt on her ass.”
“How long do you think she’ll be?”
Ofelia grimaced and rubbed her back. “Not long, I hope.”
Luz’s gaze moved to the plush burgundy sofa; she knew she’d fall asleep if she sat on it so she remained standing, staring in a blurry daze out the window. A few minutes later, the door opened and a heavyset, elderly woman in the same beige uniform strode in, wiping her hands with the dark green apron that she wore over generous hips. With her short, white, permed hair and glasses, Luz thought she looked like somebody’s grandmother. She walked with the air of authority, and as she crossed the room her pale blue eyes were like searchlights. If she was a grandma, Luz amended, no kids pulled tricks on her.
Mrs. Penfold spotted Ofelia and her eyes widened with recognition. “My goodness! Ofelia . . . is that you?”
Ofelia seemed to fold into herself. “Hello, Mrs. Penfold. It’s nice to see you again.”
“My, my, my,” Mrs. Penfold clucked, crossing the distance between them. She took hold of Ofelia’s hands while her sharp gaze swept over her face. The cheeriness ebbed from her voice, filled now with compassion. “Dear girl, what’s happened to your pretty face?”
Ofelia’s face colored and she looked downward. “Oh, nothing. I just fell.”
Mrs. Penfold’s eyes narrowed and Luz could see she didn’t buy it for a minute. She cast a quick glance at Margaret, who promptly retreated to her desk. Then she studied Luz and she smiled a quick acknowledgment.
“Come, sit down,” she told Ofelia, taking her arm and guiding her to the sofa. To Luz she said over her shoulder, “Please, sit anywhere you like.” Turning to face Ofelia, she said, “So, you’re going to be a mother.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Luz put her hands in her pockets and took a few steps closer, listening carefully.
“Does your aunt Louisa know?”
“Uh, no, ma’am. That’s why I’m here. To tell her.”
Confusion flickered across Mrs. Penfold’s face. “But she doesn’t work here anymore. I thought you’d know that. She got married, Ofelia. We had the wedding here; it was a lovely affair. Your aunt was closemouthed about your whereabouts and I have to admit, I was surprised that you didn’t come.”
“That’s because I didn’t know!” Ofelia brought her hand to her back and began rubbing it while shaking her head in consternation. “Oh, it’s not her fault. It’s my fault. I should’ve told her my address when I got to Chicago. I always meant to but I guess I never figured she’d ever leave here.”
“Your aunt is a good woman. She deserves her bit of happiness and I don’t begrudge her moving to Florida with her husband, though I miss her. She’s in Jacksonville now.” Mrs. Penfold looked across the room to Margaret, who was still listening from her desk. “Could you get that address for Ofelia?”
Luz brought her fingers up to rub her tired eyes as her stomach fell. Her address? God help her, what was she going to do now? Ofelia’s aunt wasn’t here anymore and it seemed she was being set up to drive Ofelia to Florida.
“Speaking of marriage, when did you get married, dear?”
“I, uh . . .” Her gaze shot to Luz in helpless appeal: What should I say? Luz couldn’t help her on this one. She shrugged and her gaze replied, You might as well tell her the truth. What have you got to lose now? Ofelia mumbled, “I’m not married.”
“Oh. I see.” Mrs. Penfold’s icy tone made it clear that she did, indeed, see the picture clearly and didn’t approve. “Did you know the young man? You weren’t, well, taken advantage of, were you?”
“What? Oh, no, nothing like that.”
Mrs. Penfold tilted her head and looked at the bruises on Ofelia’s face, her expression curious.
“He was my novio. We were supposed to get married,” Ofelia confessed, shamefaced.
“But you left him.”
Ofelia nodded.
Mrs. Penfold drew back and considered this, furrowing her brow. Then she straightened her shoulders and looked at Ofelia, mustering a sanctimonious air. “You know I don’t approve of living in sin. The Bible is clear that even when the partners feel themselves united by a deep bond of love and intend to be married at some point in the future, it is forbidden.”
Ofelia’s eyes shot lightning bolts, but she held her lips as tight as her clenched hands in her lap. Then the older woman’s face softened and a flicker of compassion glowed in her eyes.
“But if that man did to your face what I think he did, then I’m glad you did not marry him.”
Ofelia’s surprise turned into a choked cry and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Tears filled her eyes and she struggled to compose herself.
Mrs. Penfold appeared flustered by the spike in emotion but she rallied. Putting her hand on Ofelia’s shoulder, she said, “You were just a teen when you left here. So young.” She tsked. “You still are! And now you’re going to be a mother.” She raised her hand to gently graze Ofelia’s bruised face. Hers was a gardener’s hand, with short nails rimmed with dirt that wouldn’t come out even after several scrubbings. “Are you okay, child? Have you seen a doctor?”
As though on cue, Ofelia bent over, her face grimacing in pain.
“What’s the matter?” Mrs. Penfold said in alarm.
“Oy, these pains!” Ofelia cried, clutching Mrs. Penfold’s forearms. “They’re so bad!”
“Where are the pains?” Mrs. Penfold’s voice became matter-of-fact and calm.
“In my back, do
wn here,” Ofelia answered, pointing to her lower back. “Then they move to the front, kinda like cramps.”
“How long have you had them?”
“Since early this morning. They weren’t so bad then, so Luz and I kept going, but that’s why I came to see my aunt instead of going to Mexico, because we were worried that maybe the baby would come early and I needed someplace to go!” Ofelia was babbling hysterically.
“Since early this morning?” repeated Mrs. Penfold, and she showed her first real sign of emotion. “Good Lord, when is the baby due?”
Ofelia grimaced in another burst of pain.
Luz stepped closer. “She’s not due for another month.”
“Another month? We’ll see about that,” Mrs. Penfold said. “If these aren’t labor pains I’ll eat my hat. Margaret,” she called out, all business again. “Call Tommy for my car. We’ve got to get this girl to the hospital.”
“No!” exclaimed Ofelia. She panted heavily but her eyes were wild. “I don’t have no insurance or money. I can’t go there.” Ofelia looked to Luz. “Do you think we could make it to Florida?”
Luz’s mouth dropped open but no sound came out.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mrs. Penfold said. “You’re not in a condition to go anywhere.”
“But . . .”
“Child, you’re one of the Hidden Ponds family and we take care of our own. Don’t you worry one bit about money. You have more important things to worry about, like having that baby! If you are early and this baby wants to come, you need a doctor.” She rose and took Ofelia’s arm. “A young girl like you,” she clucked. “Come along.”
“I’m coming, too,” Luz said, digging in her pockets for her keys.
Mrs. Penfold held out her hand. “You wait here, dear. It could be a while and you’ll be more comfortable here than in some waiting room.” Seeing the doubt in Luz’s eyes, Mrs. Penfold smiled with motherly compassion. “Now, don’t you worry about your friend. I’ve known Ofelia since she was a little girl. I’m very fond of her and will take good care of her. I’ll call you just as soon as we know anything. Besides, you look exhausted. Margaret will make you comfortable.” Mrs. Penfold looked across the room. “Won’t you, Margaret?” She put her arm around Ofelia, the discussion settled. “Ready?”
Ofelia stopped in front of Luz. Her black eye made her face even paler as she mustered a weak smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay. But could you do me a huge favor?”
“Sure,” Luz replied instantly. At that moment Luz would have done anything for her.
“Take care of Serena?”
Luz held back her groan. Anything but that, she thought. “Of course,” she replied.
The heavy silence in the room after Ofelia left with Mrs. Penfold wore on Luz like a heavy, uncomfortable blanket. Margaret stood at the door, watching until the car taking Mrs. Penfold and Ofelia to the hospital drove off.
“Just what the world needs,” Margaret muttered, closing the door. “Another child brought into the world without a father and no means of support.”
Luz blinked in a sleepy stupor as the words fought through her sluggish brain. Did she hear right? She turned to face the slim, well-heeled woman.
“Excuse me, but do you even know what my friend just went through?”
Margaret appeared surprised by the question, or by the attitude. She crossed her arms and said, “But she put herself in that position, didn’t she? The one I’m worried about is that poor baby. People will call it a bastard. It won’t be easy for either of them.”
“Don’t worry about them,” Luz shot back. “They’ll be fine. A whole lot better than if she married that son of a bitch. Do you think being married would’ve stopped him from pounding her with his fists?”
Margaret started to respond, but hesitated. She closed her mouth and shook her head in remorse. “I’m sorry. She’s your friend. I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“No. You shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t talk about things you know nothing about.” Luz turned on her heel and stormed out of the house, trying to escape the dark cloud that seemed to follow her no matter how fast she walked with her hands clenched in her pockets. The heels of her boots left indentations in the soft gravel as she rounded the tall hedge. At last she saw her sweet, funny little VW Bug parked in the shade. She could hear Serena barking, and as she drew near, she saw her paws at the window. Luz opened the door and pushed the front seat forward to reach for the dog. Serena crouched back, her head ducked and eyes bulging. Luz paused, hand in the air. She’d never meant to frighten the little dog.
“You’re so ferocious for something so small.” She softened and patted the dog’s head using only her fingertips. Serena shivered so violently that her body shook. Luz stroked her thin body, feeling the delicate ribs and spine. Then, in a soft, gentling voice, she said, “You don’t know what’s going on, do you? Your whole life’s been turned upside down. All of a sudden you get grabbed by a stranger, tossed out of your house, and the next thing you know you’re driving somewhere, you don’t know where.” Luz gave the dog a wry smile. “You know what, Serena? I know just how you feel.”
On impulse, she bent to kiss the dog’s head, surprised when Serena licked her face. “I think we just bonded,” she said with a soft chuckle, scratching under the dog’s chin. “Let’s take you out, okay?”
She picked up the dog and carried it out into the fresh midday air, then walked Serena to a patch of grass and waited. The tiny dog was staring up at her, one paw lifted in question. Luz released a short laugh that changed into a sob as she bent to pick up the dog. She pressed her face against the soft fur of her back.
“I want to curl up on the backseat of the car with you and cry myself to sleep,” she murmured. What was she doing here? She didn’t want to take care of Ofelia and her dog. She wasn’t sure she could take care of herself.
Luz gently set Serena in the backseat and climbed in after her, scooping up Ofelia’s candy wrappers and empty cups into a plastic garbage bag. She cracked the windows open to allow the cool breeze to clear the stale air of the car. Serena was so happy for the company she was jumping all over her, excitedly licking her face and making growly, whimpering noises that sounded like she was talking. Luz’s heart melted at the dog’s unconditional love when she needed it so badly. She blamed the heaviness she felt in her heart on exhaustion, but she knew the source went deeper. She fluffed up the pillow and curled up with Serena lying in the curve of her belly, her hand resting on the box of Abuela’s ashes on the floor.
She desperately needed to sleep. But no matter how tightly she closed her eyes, her mind refused to back away from the words Margaret had flung out so carelessly. One in particular: bastard.
Luz had a happy enough childhood. Abuela made her feel loved and the home secure. Yet she always sensed that she wasn’t like the other kids at school. Being a child, she blithely assumed it was because her mother had died. But hearing those words this afternoon brought back a memory she’d kept deeply hidden. She was young, no older than ten. Boys from the neighborhood, Luis with his buckteeth and Carlos, a fat boy who always had candy in his pockets, had pointed at her and called out in jeering singsong, “We know what you are. You’re a bastarda.”
Luz hadn’t known what the word meant, so when she came home she sneaked Abuela’s English dictionary to her room and closed the door. There were several definitions, and each of them began with the phrase “an offensive term.” Shaking, her index finger traced the words as her mouth formed them, sounding the big ones out. When Luz closed the dictionary she knew why the boys had singled her out and not Maria Elena or Carmen.
Abuela had told Luz that her father had left her and her mother before she was born, but Luz knew lots of kids whose parents were separated or divorced. She knew that her mother had died, but everybody knew there was no shame or blame in dying. But that day had been the first time she’d comprehended that her parents were not married.
Offensive term. The phrase c
lawed its way into her child’s heart, scarring it. She hadn’t known before then that words had the power to hurt so badly. Those mean boys had rubbed her nose in the word bastarda until it had burrowed into her soul. Bad. Dirty. She’d shivered deep in her tummy knowing somehow she was tainted by it.
Weeks later, Luz found the nerve to tell her grandmother about it. She’d been sitting in her favorite easy chair in the living room, a pair of long knitting needles click-clacking as she watched television. Abuela’s needles went still. Then she set her knitting on the table, picked up the remote and turned off the television. Her dark brown eyes peered into Luz’s pale ones like she was rummaging through her brain, sorting bits of hurt and pain that she could clear away, like debris. Then Abuela gathered Luz in her lap. Luz rested her head against Abuela’s breasts. Abuela’s voice resonated with fierce love as she spoke to her granddaughter.
Querida, do you remember how, a few weeks ago, you called me to come hurry and see a chrysalis that had a strange string coming out of it? You knew something was wrong. ¿Te acuerdas?
Luz nodded her head. I remember.
All chrysalises are beautiful when they are formed. Each is bright and green like a piece of jade with those pretty gold dots. God’s own jewelry, eh? But sadly, once in a while a tiny parasite is planted into the caterpillar before it becomes a chrysalis. It is a bad seed that lies in wait until the caterpillar changes into the chrysalis. The poor infected chrysalis is not as smooth and green as the others. It grows brown and mottled, like rotten fruit. This tiny parasite grows until it kills the butterfly before it ever has the chance to fly. Only the lowly worm of the thief tachinid fly emerges.
Mi hija, all your life there will be those who will seek to hurt you by planting the evil of mean words and cruelty into your heart. Those words are like the parasites. They have the power to destroy all that is beautiful in you. If you let them. But you are strong, my sweet young caterpillar! You will grow and grow and someday you will become a bright and shiny chrysalis, and from that you will emerge a beautiful butterfly. Yo prometo. Like your mother before you.