The girls stared at the cathedral. The last rays of the setting sun glinted off the stained glass windows. The two immense wooden doors, each of which was larger than the wagon in which they rode, dwarfed the woman dressed in black who was entering. Lola’s eyes traveled up the ornate stonework to the towering spires and the sight almost took her breath away. She’d never seen such magnificence. The fact that they’d been driving so long and were still in the heart of the city was impressive, but to see such grandeur was almost overwhelming.
“Juan,” said Lola. “Why are we telling a fancy story? Fancy stories are what got us here in the first place.”
“Aren’t we all children of Adam and Eve? Doesn’t that make us all cousins?” Juan’s brow furrowed. “Seriously, sometimes one must commit a small sin to prevent a larger sin. Your father made a great sacrifice to do what he feels necessary to preserve the honor of the Herrera family. We tell a small story to keep others from making suppositions, warranted or otherwise, that might render his sacrifice pointless.”
“…suppositions, warranted or otherwise,” repeated Enriqueta.
“That means—” Lola started to explain.
“I know what it means,” snapped her sister. “I’m just surprised that Juan—” She stopped in midsentence when Lola’s elbow jabbed her.
“Sorry, Juan,” Enriqueta said.
“Sorry, Tío Juan,” he corrected with a smile.
“Tío Juan.” Enriqueta stifled a giggle at the form of address. “How is it that you and Pilar both grew up on the plantation and she can’t read, but you know how to read and you speak so well?”
“My grandfather was a simple campesino, a tiller of the land. He asked the priest to teach his son to read and write. The priest shared his precious books, and taught my father the power of education. He sent my older brother and me to school in the city. My brother got a job in the city, and I went back to the plantation. The priest and I spent a lot of time together talking about books and playing chess. Your father and I used to talk and play chess together.”
“Why did you stop?”
“A lot of things changed when your father married Jacoba.”
Lola nodded. Her father stopped talking about the plantation at the table, too. It was as though Jacoba wanted to be the only one to talk to him. She remembered her original question. “But when you talk to the Cholos you talk like they do,” said Lola.
“I don’t want the men to think I’m trying to be a little patrón.”
After a few minutes, Lola said, “Maybe we should listen to how your cousin talks so we don’t make him think we are trying to be ladies.” Juan smiled.
They rode on through the deepening twilight. At last Juan turned off the road and pulled the wagon beside a small house. They could not see much, but to the tired and hungry girls the lights shining through the windows looked warm and welcoming.
VII. May 1908: Lola Age 14
Lola sat cross-legged on her pallet and poked her needle into the rough cloth of the uniform in her lap. Enriqueta’s foot stopped working the pedal of the old sewing machine; she put her hands on her lower back and stretched. Enriqueta complained constantly that her back hurt, and it was increasingly difficult for her to get up from her pallet. Lola watched sympathetically. It was almost time for them to switch places. Then Lola would sew her uniform on the machine while Enriqueta did the hand finishing on hers, and begin basting the next one with the large stitches that would hold the material in place while it went through the machine.
Juan’s cousin hadn’t been surprised that they’d never seen a sewing machine before. He said many women still thought it was a mark of quality to show fine even hand sewn stitching—and proof of the ability to pay for it. She remembered his pride as he showed them the machine. “…and the thread goes up here and you put the end through the needle here. And then you put the cloth under this and work the pedal up and down with your feet.”
Victoria and Jacoba should see her now, making tiny even stitches faster than the eye can see. Sometimes Lola thought of the machine as part of their team, helping them make more uniforms so they could add a little more money to their hoard; other times she thought of it as the heavy ball at the end of the chain of circumstances that kept them tethered to this room day and night. She felt the same way about Uncle and Auntie, as they were told to call Juan’s cousins. She wanted to say something comforting to Enriqueta, but the pounding noise from the other room made conversation impossible. She wondered what Uncle was doing, but the girls were expected to work until suppertime.
Lola tapped Enriqueta’s bare foot with her own, giving her sister a big smile. Enriqueta replied by sticking out her tongue, which set them both giggling. Enriqueta’s foot began to move again, and Lola picked up the next piece of uniform. Every time she thought of the room as a prison, she scolded herself. She’d learned just how miserable life could be in the city.
Lola had gone with Uncle a few times as he made his rounds of the women who sewed for him. He thought that if they inspected the uniforms at collection and made the women correct their own mistakes, it would teach them to be more careful. The plan didn’t work because the corrections were often as bad as the original mistake. The women were paid by the number of uniforms they finished and their main concern…no, their only concern was their payment. After seeing how they lived she understood. They didn’t have the time or the energy for the luxury of pride in their workmanship.
She thought of the woman whose three little girls had been sitting in a line against the wall with their skinny little legs stuck out in front of them, sewing as fast as they could. A boy whose gap-toothed smile said he was about six years old was carrying a baby and trying to keep it from crying as the woman desperately tried to finish one more uniform. Lola would never forget the stricken face of the mother when she picked up a jacket and they both noticed a sleeve sewn with the wrong side of the material facing out. Lola had quickly shoved the jacket into the middle of the pile. That was one of the more pleasant homes they visited. Most of the places were crowded and filthy.
She remembered a place that smelled so bad she’d hung her head over the side of the wagon and vomited in the street—and then she’d vomited again as two scrawny dogs with ribs showing through their fur had run to lick up her half-digested breakfast. Her stomach still churned at the memory. Some of the houses were little more than boxes that leaked in the rain. Entire families slept, ate, and lived in one small room.
The noise in the other room stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
“Enriqueta! Lola!” Uncle’s shout broke the silence. Lola struggled to her feet and helped Enriqueta stand. They went out, curious to see what was causing all the commotion.
In the middle of the room stood two brand new sewing machines and Uncle was strutting around them with his chest puffed out in pride like the old rooster on the plantation.
“These are for you,” he crowed. “You’re my best seamstresses, and I want you each to have one of these new wonderful machines. They came all the way from North America.”
She and Enriqueta were his best seamstresses? Uncle had many girls and women sewing for him. When he made his rounds, he left in the morning with a wagon full of uniforms ready to sew and returned in the afternoon with piles of sewn uniforms. Then Uncle and his wife went through them piece by piece, marking problems and ripping seams that were not right. She and Enriqueta would then fix the mistakes.
Uncle kept talking. “With these machines you two can make twice as many uniforms—maybe three or four times as many.” His eyes were shining as he turned to them expectantly.
“How wonderful,” Lola said. That was obviously the answer he wanted. “We’re pleased with your confidence in our abilities.”
Auntie muttered something under her breath and went back to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal.
Enriqueta frowned. “But we still have to do the finishing; you know, buttons and things, and we still need to baste the sleeves an
d collars or they’ll come out crooked. Now we take turns doing hand work and using the machine.”
Uncle was nearly hugging himself in excitement. “That’s the beauty of the whole idea. Anyone, anyone, anyone, who can hold a needle, can sew on buttons. All the women who work for me have children sew on the buttons. I’m bringing in a girl to sew the buttons and do whatever you tell her, so you’ll have time to sew with the machine.” He was practically dancing around the room. “I’ll find another woman to sew with the old machine.”
“In our room?” asked Lola.
“The girl’s small and won’t take much room.”
“You promised we’d have our own room,” said Enriqueta.
“It’s only temporary,” said Uncle. “I’m going to build a place in the back for the other women to work.”
“Oh, Lola,” said Enriqueta when they were back in their room. “I just hate being poor. I’m sick of living cooped up in this room, and I’m sick of army uniforms, and I’m sick of working every moment for almost nothing, and I’m sick of having a backache and not being able to get up by myself.” She started crying. “And now two strangers will share this smelly old room with us. I’m not sure I can stand it.”
Lola put her arms around her sister and tried to comfort her. “Just lie down and rest.” She helped her sister to her pallet and covered her. “One less uniform in this world won’t make any difference at all.”
Lola woke up later that night to relieve herself. She hated using the pot, but she had no choice at night. She swore that the baby growing inside her had usurped all the available room. Even though she wasn’t nearly as large as Enriqueta, she hadn’t been able to sleep through the night for ages. She began to get up from her pallet and heard angry voices in the next room.
“You spent that money on those stupid machines? It wasn’t yours to spend. What’re we going to do when we need the money?”
“Hush. You’ll wake up the girls, and they’re not stupid machines. We’ll make a lot more money now. Once I get several machines operating we’ll get more contracts, and make even more money.”
“That money was for a doctor. You violated a trust.” Doctor? That sounded serious. The voices got lower and Lola tiptoed to the door, curiosity winning over her reluctance to eavesdrop.
“Women have been popping out babies for thousands of years without doctors.” Lola put her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound. The doctors were for them—for the birthing. She had to hear more. She slowly turned the handle and opened the door a couple of inches, putting her ear to the crack.
“But what if they do need a doctor? They’re so young.”
“If they’re old enough to lay with a man, they’re old enough to bear a child. Midwives delivered us and delivered our children. A midwife will deliver their babies when the time comes.”
Lola was frightened. She hadn’t even thought about needing a doctor. All she really knew about birthing is that one of her father’s mares had bled to death. The thought made Lola shiver.
“Don’t worry. If they need a doctor, I’ll get the money—even if I have to sell a machine. I promise,” said Uncle. His words sounded empty to Lola.
“I still say it’s wrong to use their money. You should take the machines back.”
“Listen to me. The machine is here and there’s no going back. I don’t just mean those machines in this house. The machine is the future. The world’s changing, and we either change with it or get left behind. If I don’t do this, then my competitor will. Then you and I both will be living in the streets—and those girls will be thrown into the streets with us. Enough talk. Go get me a drink of water.”
Lola hastily closed the door enough to appear shut. She stood, barely breathing, as she heard Auntie get the water and go back to the other room. Slowly and noiselessly, she closed the final half inch and released the handle. She returned to her pallet, but could not get back to sleep. Would Enriqueta need a doctor? Would she? Would Uncle really get one--even if he didn’t have the money?
Should she tell Enriqueta? No, it would frighten her. Doctors were called when all else failed—and they certainly hadn’t done anything to help poor Mama, had they? Why should she think a doctor could do anything more than a midwife who delivered babies all the time?
Should she get word to Juan that his cousin had spent the money? He’d be angry that his cousin had betrayed his trust. It would also be obvious that she’d overheard a conversation that was meant to be private between husband and wife. They wouldn’t be able to stay here after telling tales on Uncle, but where could they go? Lola shuddered. She knew life could be even more miserable than this. Lola fell asleep with her course of action unresolved.
“Do you think our sister Juana would like to have another child?” asked Enriqueta the next morning as she folded the uniform she had just finished.
“Of course she would. She’s been married for years and only has two children. You know she keeps trying. I wonder why God doesn’t let Juana have a baby, and he lets us have babies we didn’t want.”
“You mustn’t question the will of God,” said Enriqueta. Lola frowned. Maria or Ernestina might have said that, but not Enriqueta.
“Why did you ask about Juana?”
“Because I want her to have my baby. It will be of good bloodline and she wants a baby.” Lola didn’t know what to say. “Lola, look at us. We’re poor and miserable. We live and sleep and work and piss in this room. I hate being poor. I don’t want my baby to be poor.” She stopped talking as her foot worked the pedal, and her hands guided the material through the machine. “If Juana has the baby I’ll be able to join a convent. I want to be a nun.”
Lola stared at her sister. “Enriqueta, think what you’re saying. Nuns can’t get married and have their own home. They work all the time and pray when they’re not working.”
“I don’t ever want a man to touch me again as long as I live.”
“You say you don’t want to be poor, yet you want to be a nun. Nuns can’t have any money at all. We’re earning some money, and saving it so we can get our own place.”
“Money? We don’t get half what those stupid women get who put collars on crooked and forget to tie knots at the ends of their threads so the seams come out if you pull on them. We’ll never get out of here.”
Lola put aside her work and got clumsily to her feet to put her arms around her sister. “As soon as we have our babies, I’ll get a job so we can find a place to live. I promise. Why don’t you take a nap like yesterday?”
“I don’t want a nap. I’m going to take care of my business.” Enriqueta began stomping toward the door, muttering as she went. “We thought we’d have hot and cold running water in the city. HA! We have a smelly old outhouse.” Lola went back to her sewing.
“No, absolutely not. I refuse!” Enriqueta’s screech startled Lola and she hurried to see what was wrong.
Lola froze in the doorway. In the middle of the room was the skinniest, dirtiest little girl Lola had ever seen, clinging to Uncle’s leg like a cat balancing on a branch. Her matted hair was plastered to her head with what appeared to be mud. Her single garment was ragged and stopped well above her knees. It was the same mud color as her hair. Enriqueta was staring at the child with disgust.
“I won’t have that…that thing in the same room with us. I’m sure it has bugs.”
“Enriqueta,” said Lola, “that thing is a child. It’s not her fault she’s dirty, and that’s easily cured. We just need to bathe her. I’ll get most of it off outside so if she does have bugs they won’t get into the house.”
“Well I’m not touching it,” declared Enriqueta as she pushed past Lola and continued to the outhouse.
Lola tried to coax the girl to go outside with her, but the girl clung stubbornly to Uncle’s leg. After a few minutes he picked her up and followed Lola outside.
“Perhaps we should put her in the horse trough to get the worst of it off,” suggested Lola. The girl was soon scream
ing and kicking in the cold water, clothes and all.
“Uncle, you hold her while I scrub. I don’t believe she’s ever had a bath before.” By the time Lola was satisfied, all three of them were soaked. Lola kept talking to her, but the girl never uttered an intelligible word. They brought her into the house to finish the job with soap and warm water.
“I’m going to take off your clothes to bathe you properly,” said Lola, “I suggest you cooperate so Uncle can go before I undress you.”
The girl looked down at the nearly transparent wet dress that clung to her body. She blushed beneath her dusky complexion and nodded. Her teeth began to chatter with cold, and Lola quickly got her into the galvanized tub of warm water. The girl was cleaned, wrapped in a warm blanket, and told to sit near the stove. Auntie handed her a bowl of stew left from last night’s supper, and she began slurping it out of the bowl.
Lola sat down heavily, foolishly holding a spoon in her hand. “Just let me sit a minute, Auntie, and I’ll wash the girl’s dress, and we can take the bath water out and dump it.”
“No need to wash the rag.” Enriqueta emerged from their room holding a small pair of bloomers and a simple dress—both white and edged in lace.
“How did you—?” began Auntie but she was interrupted by Lola.
“Where’d you get the material?”
“From your petticoat,” answered Enriqueta loftily. She turned to the girl whose eyes were so big they overbalanced the small face.
“Don’t just sit there. Try it on so I can do a fitting.”
The girl got up slowly. “For me?” she asked in amazement as she reached out to touch the dress.
“Of course it’s for you. Do you see anyone else here that could get into it?”
“Now tell me your name. I can’t keep calling you ‘it’.”
“Concha.”
“Concha? That’s short for Concepción.”
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