It's Just Lola

by Dixiane Hallaj

  “No. My mother told me I was as beautiful as the inside of a conch shell, and she named me Concha.”

  “Where’s your mother now?”

  “She died of the coughing sickness. She used to sew uniforms for your uncle.”

  “And your father?”

  “I don’t know. My mother said he went to sea before I was born, and she never saw him again.” Enriqueta dressed the girl as they talked. The dress fit reasonably well, and Enriqueta nodded her satisfaction.

  “Beautiful Lady, this is the most wonderful dress in the world. I have never in my life seen anything so perfect. Is it really mine to keep?”

  “Yes, it’s yours to keep. Now let’s go in here and sew on some buttons.” The two disappeared into the other room with the girl looking at Enriqueta worshipfully.

  “Yes, it’s yours to keep,” mimicked Lola. “There’s no way to make it back into a petticoat. And of course you’ve never seen anything so perfect—that’s Belgian lace on the edges.” She turned to the older woman, who was still staring at the closed door. “Can you beat that? Uncle picks her up off the streets and saves her from a short miserable life; I bathe her until my back is breaking and my clothes are as wet as hers; you feed her and welcome her to your home. Who does she finally talk to? Who does she think is a goddess? Enriqueta who treated her like the dirt beneath her shoes. And it was my petticoat—the likes of which I’ll never have again.”

  Auntie went to her own room, and came back with one of her old dresses. She told Lola they must make another set of drawers and dress for the girl because it wasn’t suitable for her to dress so fancy. They did as they were told, and Concha put on the clothes made from the old dress and let Auntie take the others away to keep them safe.

  Later that night Lola woke up to the sound of Enriqueta calling her.

  “Lola, please wake up. I’ve been having cramps for hours, and it keeps getting worse. It hurts so bad. I’m afraid.”

  Lola pulled her pallet over so she could lie down and hold her sister’s hand. “Should I call Auntie? She’ll know what to do.”

  “No. It’s still night and she’ll get angry. It comes and goes. Maybe it was something I ate.”

  “We always eat the same thing and I’m fine. It must be the baby.” Then the pain came again and Lola nearly cried aloud as her sister squeezed her hand.

  Tears streamed down Enriqueta’s face. “It’s God’s punishment. He’s going to strike me dead. It hurts so much I must be dying.”

  “No. Don’t say such things. I’m going to wake Auntie. She’ll know what to do.” Lola felt her way to the door and called softly. The older woman answered immediately and lit a lamp.

  “I’ve been expecting this. I’m coming.” She shook her husband.

  “Get up. Enriqueta’s having her baby. Go get Señora Gomez.”

  “She can wait until morning. The first is always long in coming.”

  “No. Get up now!” said Lola as she went into the kitchen and lit another lamp.

  As Auntie hurried to Enriqueta, Lola grabbed her elbow and whispered urgently, “You’d better make sure my sister has a doctor if she needs one. If anything happens to her, I swear I’ll find a way to make you sorry.” Lola wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw fear in Auntie’s eyes, at least she hoped so.

  Uncle came into the kitchen, scratching and grumbling about coffee. Lola went back to dress and sit by Enriqueta as Auntie came out and started making coffee.

  “Are you feeling better? Is the pain going away?”

  “It’s gone now, but Auntie says it won’t stop until the baby comes.” Lola was full of self-doubt. Was her veiled threat to Auntie enough? She was reasonably confident that Uncle was right and a doctor wasn’t needed for a birthing. She’d never heard of a doctor being called for a birthing, but what if she was wrong?

  Lola looked up as the door opened. Uncle came in and picked up one of the sewing machines. Where was he taking it? More importantly, why was he still here?

  “Bring what you need for you and the girl to work in the living room today. Señora Gomez won’t want you in her way.” As reluctant as Lola was to move from Enriqueta’s side, she obeyed. She was still arranging the work space when a cry of pain from Enriqueta brought her running back to their room. A frightened Concha was sitting in the corner staring at Enriqueta, who was clutching her bedclothes and struggling for breath.

  Lola turned toward the kitchen where Uncle was using a slab of bread to sop up the remains of an egg. “Why haven’t you gone to get the midwife?”

  “There’s plenty of time. That baby won’t come for hours yet,” he said around a mouthful of bread.

  “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one writhing in pain.”

  He grumbled something that might have been “Oh, all right” as he stood up and washed the bread down with the last of his coffee.

  As soon as he left, Auntie came to the room and tried to reassure the girls that everything was just as expected. Neither Enriqueta nor Lola was comforted by the thought that so much pain was to be expected. Promising to stay with Enriqueta, she finally persuaded Lola to have a quick bite of breakfast so she and Concha would be working when Uncle returned.

  “The first child is always reluctant to come into the world. Don’t worry. Señora Gomez has been doing this for a very long time. She’s the best midwife in the region.”

  Lola worked, but she jumped and ran to Enriqueta every time she heard a sound. When Señora Gomez swept into the room, with the fringes of her shawl dancing around her broad hips, Lola felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Señora Gomez reminded her of Carmen—competent and proficient. She didn’t even object when Señora Gomez told her to stay out of the room so Enriqueta could rest whenever she had a break in the pain. Feeling confident that everything would work out right did nothing to make the day seem any shorter. She kept Concha busy ripping out mistakes and crooked seams as hours crawled by. How long did it take to birth a child?

  Another piteous cry came from Enriqueta. Lola got up, determined to make Auntie call a doctor. She stopped short as she heard the sound of a baby crying.

  “It’s a beautiful, healthy little girl,” said Señora Gomez as she stuck her face out a crack in the door. “Your sister’s tired but healthy.” Auntie went into the room with more hot water, closing the door firmly in Lola’s face.

  Lola couldn’t wait to hear all about what happened, but when Auntie opened the door with a small bundle a short time later, Lola’s resentment was erased by one look at the perfect little face of Enriqueta’s baby. She felt tears spring to her eyes as she gazed at the small being Auntie placed in her arms. “She’s so beautiful.” The child within Lola moved and emotion overwhelmed her.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Enriqueta, when’re you going to write to Juana?”

  “Write to Juana? She and her fancy North American husband never did anything for us. They own silver mines in Ecuador—and did we ever see a piece of silver jewelry? Why would I write to her?”

  “To see if she’d like to have your baby.”

  “What an absurd thing for you to say,” answered Enriqueta. “Look at Blanca. Have you ever seen anything as perfect and wonderful? She’s such a good baby. Nothing matters to her but that I feed her and love her. Sometimes I wake up at night and put my hand on her, and it seems like I can feel love surrounding her like a halo. I love her so much.”

  “Does that mean you don’t want to be a nun?”

  “I could never be a nun. Nuns have to serve God all the time. I must take care of my little girl and teach her all the things she’ll need to know.”

  Lola smiled and shook her head. The smile disappeared as another cramp made her catch her breath. “Enriqueta, it’s been a month since Blanca was born. Can’t you tell me about it now? I don’t have any idea what to expect, and you know how frightening that is. You were frightened, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I was frightened, and if it happened again I’d be frightened aga
in. I told you at least a hundred times I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Why not?” Lola had tried to bring up the subject with Auntie, but she could not bring herself to be explicit in her inquiries—except with her sister, and Enriqueta refused to talk.

  “Lola, you know the sight of blood makes me faint and even the thought of blood upsets me. Please don’t ask me again.” She began to work the pedal so hard Lola thought the machine would rattle itself to pieces. Lola’s eyes fill with tears. How could her sister be so sweet and loving one moment and so maddeningly stubborn the next?

  There was a soft knock on the door and Auntie’s voice called Enriqueta. The house was much quieter now; no one wanted to wake the baby because that would be less work done. Enriqueta went out to see what Auntie wanted and soon came back with a grin on her face, gesturing frantically for Lola to come.

  “We have a commission to make a woman’s dress!” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Auntie asked if I could make a woman’s dress like I made Concha’s dress,” Enriqueta said as she helped Lola up. “This is our opportunity.”

  Lola followed her sister into the kitchen and sank heavily onto a bench.

  Auntie started talking immediately. “Enriqueta says the two of you can make a dress like the one my friend saw.” She gestured to the heavyset woman next to her.

  “If you can describe it, we can make it,” said Enriqueta. “Give Lola a pencil and some paper and she can sketch what you describe.” After a lot of rummaging through drawers and cupboards, Auntie produced a piece of brown wrapping paper and a stub of a pencil.

  Lola gripped the edge of her seat as another wave of pain hit her. She knew it was the baby coming. The pain passed, and she became aware that the woman was speaking.

  “...the most beautiful woman I ever saw was getting out of the carriage. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore a beautiful hat with a huge feather. When she turned around I saw the skirt was all bunched up in the back and the sleeves puffed out on the top.” Lola exchanged a glance with Enriqueta. “The big sleeves and the big skirt made her look like her waist was as small as her neck.”

  With a few deft strokes, Lola sketched a wasp-waisted woman in a bustled skirt with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a large hat with an ostrich plume.

  “That’s her exactly!” The woman looked at Lola with surprised wonder in her eyes. “Can you make it?”

  “Of course we can,” said Enriqueta.

  “What my sister means is that we are able to make the clothes, but I’m afraid we can’t.” Lola winced as Enriqueta kicked her under the table. “Uncle will be angry if we don’t sew uniforms.”

  “But you could sew my dress in the evenings, couldn’t you?”

  “In the evenings we fix the mistakes of the other women who sew for him. We barely have enough time to do our laundry and mending.” Lola shot Enriqueta a fierce look that stopped her objections before she voiced them. “In fact, we’d better get back to work before Uncle comes home and catches us chatting in the kitchen.” She stood and hurried back to their room, hoping that Enriqueta would follow.

  When Enriqueta reached the room, Lola was doubled over in pain.

  “Lola, your baby’s coming.” Lola nodded and Enriqueta rushed to her side. “I’ll tell Auntie.”

  Lola grabbed Enriqueta’s skirt and shook her head. “Not until we get the job.”

  “We’ll never get the job. You made sure of that.” Lola tightened her grip on Enriqueta’s skirt and shook her head.

  When the pain passed again, Lola took a deep breath. “Didn’t you see her face? Couldn’t you see how badly she wanted that wretched dress that’ll make her the laughing stock of the neighborhood?”

  “It will, won’t it?” said Enriqueta with a sudden giggle. They had barely started work again when Auntie called them back to the kitchen.

  “Can you measure her and tell her how much material to buy? I’ll make sure my husband gives you time to work on the dress.”

  Enriqueta began to measure the woman, and Lola wrote her measurements on the wrapping paper. Between writing measurements, she sketched another dress. Blanca started crying, and Enriqueta went to their room to take care of her. Lola motioned the woman to sit next to her as she made detailed sketches.

  “Señora, you saw this dress when you were a little girl, and fell in love with it, didn’t you?”

  “How did you know I was a little girl?”

  “We grew up sewing ladies’ dresses on a plantation with a wagonload of girls—all of whom wanted the latest fashions. No one has worn bustled skirts since before I was old enough to hold a needle.” She pointed to the other sketch. “The simple gored skirt will give you greater height and be very elegant. The matching jacket can be removed in hot weather, revealing a frilly blouse with sleeves similar to the ones on the dress, but smaller and more flattering. We’ll make whichever dress you choose.” Lola tried to be gentle and understanding. “Believe me, Señora; I don’t want to kill your dream of the beautiful dress. I just want your dress to be more than beautiful—I want it to be fashionable and flattering.”

  Lola dropped the pencil and grabbed the edge of her seat as the pain began again.

  “Are you all right?” asked the woman.

  “No she’s not,” Enriqueta said. “Auntie, she’s having her baby. You have to do something.”

  “Now, now,” Auntie said. “You know it takes a long time for the first. We’ll just move your things out to the living room to give her some privacy.”

  “But she’s already been hurting for hours. She didn’t let me say anything because she didn’t want to...to disappoint your friend.”

  Lola let Enriqueta help her to her pallet. Concha and Enriqueta moved the current work out of the room. Lola’s eyes closed as the pain receded and she relaxed, letting the sounds of the women talking in the next room lull her into a light sleep. Inevitably, the pain came again and her soft groan brought Enriqueta. “Please stay with me.” Lola reached for Enriqueta’s hand.

  “I can’t. Auntie says we wasted so much time today that Uncle will be angry when he gets home.”

  “What about her friend?”

  “She left, saying she had to think.”

  The pain intensified and Lola could think of nothing else. “Please, Enriqueta, tell me what comes next. I’m begging you.”

  “I’m sorry, Lola, I really have to get back to work. Besides, I can’t stand watching you suffer, and you know how I feel about blood.” Enriqueta kissed her on the forehead and rose to leave. “Señora Gomez says to focus on your breathing,” she called from the door. “Auntie says she’ll send Uncle for Señora Gomez as soon as he gets home.”

  Lola lay on the pallet feeling abandoned and afraid. What if something went wrong? She tortured herself with questions and wild imaginings that gradually merged into dream-like memories. Her sisters were talking about Juana bleeding to death; her father’s face floated in her thoughts, saying he couldn’t save the mare; Enriqueta was saying she couldn’t talk about it because all the blood upset her.

  “Auntie,” Lola cried out as the pain came again.

  “Don’t worry, Lola. Everything’s fine.”

  Lola grabbed Auntie’s skirt. “No, everything is not fine. My sister Juana is small like me, and she nearly bled to death trying to have a baby—and the baby died. I could bleed to death.”

  “No, you silly child,” said Auntie. “You’re not going to die.” She leaned down to release Lola’s grip on her skirt.

  Lola tugged on the material, forcing the woman even closer. “Do you think Juan left us here without telling us what we need to know? You have money for a doctor.” Satisfied that Auntie understood, and she had not revealed her eavesdropping, she released her hold on Auntie’s skirt. “Promise you’ll get me a doctor.” Lola winced as her intended threat came out as a pitiful whine.

  Lola concentrated on enduring. Her entire being centered on pain. She could not possibly
live through any more pain. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her fingernails dug into her palms. She had no idea how much time passed. Tears ran down her face and merged with the sweat. It may have been an hour later or many hours later when Auntie opened the door for a man with a black bag.

  “Well, little lady, let’s see what you have here,” he said in a gentle voice. He sent Auntie for hot water and plenty of soap. Lola watched as he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He scrubbed his hands with soap and rinsed them and asked for clean water. She watched every move. He reached over and pulled the cover down.

  “Where’s your knife?” asked Lola.

  “What knife?”

  “The knife to cut my stomach open and take the baby out, of course.”

  “I don’t plan on cutting your stomach open.” He smiled as he spoke.

  “How will the baby come out?” she asked.

  “Don’t you know anything? The baby will come out the same way it went in.”

  Lola felt her cheeks burning with the heat of her blush. The doctor must think she was very stupid. She gasped as another pain held her in its grip. The doctor lifted her dress and Lola grabbed for the covers and tried to push him away. No one looked under her dress—not her sister, not Rudolfo, not anyone. She struggled to sit, clutching the cover.

  “You’re a dirty old man,” she said.

  “How old are you, Little One?” asked the doctor with a chuckle.

  “I’m fourteen.” She wanted to add that she was a modern woman, but she suspected the doctor might laugh at her again.

  “No one told you about childbirth? Your mother? Your sisters?”

  “My mother is dead and my sisters have been brought up nicely and don’t talk about such things.” The doctor sat back on his heels. He told her quietly what was to happen. He explained what she would do and what he would be doing. At last she knew what was happening.

  “How long have you been having pains?”

  “Since long before the sun came up, but they weren’t so bad. Now I can hardly keep from screaming when the pain comes.”

  “It’s already dark, so that’s a long time, even for a first baby. You have to let me see how you’re progressing.”