She Had No Choice

by Debra Burroughs

  The driver lifted Sofía’s worn leather bag into the back of the large black buggy and helped the young ladies into their seats, Olivia first, then Sofía.

  “Gracias, señor,” Sofía said as the driver took her arm to help her up. She felt like royalty. She ran her hand gently over the soft black leather seat. She had never felt anything like it before.

  “What must Tía Consuela’s house be like?” she thought to herself. “If only Mama could see it.” The thought of Mama brought tears to her eyes, so she quickly looked away so Olivia would not see them.

  “How was your trip, Sofía?” Olivia asked.

  Blinking back her tears, Sofía tried to compose herself to reply to her cousin. She shifted a little in her seat and turned to face Olivia to answer her. Sofía started off slowly describing her trip, not comfortable yet with these new people and her new surroundings. She felt inferior to Olivia in so many ways – her economic circumstances, her dress, her beauty. She hoped it didn’t show.

  Sofía even assumed her cousin was considerably more educated than she was, since she had not been to school since her family left Mexico when she was eight years old. There were no schools in Arizona for the children of migrant farm workers. But, Sofía hoped she would have the opportunity for more education while living with Tía Consuela.

  “Bien…it was fine,” Sofía began nervously. “I…I…I’ve never been on a train before. It was noisy and, um, rattled a lot. I looked out the window sometimes, but mostly all I saw was desert, you know, cactus, rocks and dirt. So, I looked at the people, wondering where they were coming from and where they were going. I sometimes made up stories in my mind of some great adventure they were on or some terrible thing they were leaving behind them. It helped to pass the time.”

  “What an active imagination you have, prima,” Olivia said, impressed with the young girl’s creativity.

  Before long Sofía relaxed and began describing all the sights and people she saw and the experiences she had. She found it easy to talk to Olivia, and soon the two of them were chatting like old friends.

  After about a twenty-minute drive from the train station, they arrived at their destination on the edge of Phoenix. The buggy pulled up in front of a charming white, two-story house with a profusion of blooming rose bushes in the front garden and a freshly-whitewashed picket fence surrounding the large yard. Sofía could not remember seeing anything so beautiful in her life. She realized her mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it.

  As the driver helped Olivia and Sofía out of the buggy, Tía Consuela emerged from the massive wooden front door. At almost six feet tall, she was quite imposing. She wore a long, black dress with a high neckline and long sleeves. Her graying black hair was pulled back into a loose bun. She also wore a scowl on her face. Olivia’s greeting at the station had been warm and cheerful. Tía Consuela’s was cold and direct.

  “Sofía, I am your Tía Consuela,” she said, from the porch, as the girls quickly strolled up the walkway to meet her.

  “You have come a long way. You must be tired. Take your things to the attic at the top of the stairs. That will be your room. As soon as you have unpacked, come downstairs and I will meet you in the living room. Be quick about it.” With that, she turned abruptly and walked back into the house.

  Ay, Mama,” Olivia sighed. “You must forgive my mother,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “Since my father passed away a few years ago, life has been hard for her, trying to support the family. It seems all the joy and happiness drained out of her when he died. My little brother, Roberto, and I try to make her happy, but nothing we do brings back her joy. I think she’s determined to keep her heart shut so it doesn’t get broken again. Come on, Sofía, I’ll help you unpack.”

  Sofía carried her single piece of luggage upstairs to the attic room, and Olivia helped her store her things in the small dresser with peeling yellow paint. The sparse room was furnished with an old single bed with a tarnished brass headboard, a well-worn wooden chair and the little dresser. The thin lace curtains were dingy and the wood-plank floors unpainted. Sofía had thought her room would be nicer from what her papa told her, but this was better than what she had known in the farm camps.

  “Come, sit,” Olivia said, as she patted the bed beside where she sat. Sofía took a seat and put her hands in her lap, not knowing what else to do with them.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come to live with us, Sofía. We’ll be like sisters.” Olivia told her. “I have to go to work this afternoon at the hotel, but I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast.”

  “You work in a hotel?”

  “Yes, didn’t Tío Emilio tell you? Mama owns a small hotel and restaurant that she started after Papa died. We have some workers, and I help out, too. Maybe someday it will be my hotel and restaurant. It’s not grand or anything, but we make good money from it.”

  “It sounds exciting.”

  “Not really, but it’s a living. I have to go now, but we’ll talk more later.” Olivia got up from the bed and walked out the door. Sofía followed her down the stairs, anxious to explore the rest of the house.

  As Sofía reached the bottom of the stairs, her aunt called out to her angrily. “Sofía! Come in here right now!”

  Sofía suddenly remembered Tía Consuela had told her to meet her in the living room as soon as she had put her things away. She had gotten so involved in her conversation with Olivia that it completely slipped her mind.

  She poked her head into the room. Sofía was in awe of the beautiful furnishings. She had never seen anything like it before – the rugs, the draperies, the crystal lamps, the plush furniture. Maybe Papa was right, Sofía thought for a moment, maybe this will be a good life for me. As she stepped into the room, she caught sight of her aunt sitting in a large leather chair, waiting for her.

  “Sofía!” she snapped, and Sofía froze. Tía Consuela’s frown told her she was obviously not pleased to be kept waiting.

  “When I ask you to do something, you will do it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Tía. I’m so sorry. I was talking with …” she tried to explain but was cut off in mid-sentence.

  “Silence! I don’t care what you were doing. I will not tolerate disobedience. Since you have just arrived, I will forgive you this time.” Her eyes narrowed and her lips were taunt as she spoke. Her voice took on a slower, more serious tone. “But if you ever disobey me again, you will regret it.”

  Sofía stood completely still, her heart racing. She had never been spoken to like that before. Mama and Papa had asked her to do many things, and she did them without complaining. She was always a compliant child, always wanting to please.

  “I asked you to meet me in here so we could go over a few things. First, you will help Antonia, our housekeeper, with breakfast and dinner each day. Second, you will help at the hotel, cleaning the rooms and the baths. And third, when you are not at the hotel, you will help Antonia keep this house clean when she needs you. Do you understand?”

  Sofía was a little confused. This was not at all what she was expecting. She expected to be helpful around the house and do what was asked of her, as part of the family. But she never expected to be coldly treated as merely a worker, a housekeeper, free labor.

  “Do you understand?!” Tía Consuela repeated firmly, almost yelling.

  “Yes, Tía, I understand.” Sofía knew that was the only answer her aunt would accept.

  She remembered Papa saying he was sending her here so she would have a better life. Could Papa have been wrong? She missed her mother desperately and had hoped Tía Consuela would be like a mother to her. Unfortunately, Tía Consuela was not pleased that she had no say in taking her niece in, that Sofía was thrust upon her without her approval.

  Consuela’s relationship with her brother had been strained since he married Juanita. She felt Juanita was not good enough for Emilio. Maybe it was because Emilio and Consuela’s family were Opata Indians and Juanita was Española. No one really knew for sure why
Consuela disliked Juanita. But, because young Sofía looked so much like her mother, every time Consuela saw Sofía, it only reminded her of the bitterness she harbored against her sister-in-law. Perhaps that’s why she treated Sofía so badly.

  * * * *

  For the next six years, Sofía lived in Tía Consuela’s home, not cared for as a daughter, or even as a niece. She was treated as a servant girl. In the beginning, Sofía struggled with it emotionally. She cried into her pillow every night, hoping things would get better. But, over time, she learned to accept it.

  As part of her household chores, Sofía helped the housekeeper clean the house and clear the dishes after meals. She was not used to handling or caring for delicate and expensive things, like her aunt’s fine China dishes and fragile crystal glassware. After all, she had grown up with heavy clay dishes and carved wooden cups.

  One time, Sofía was clearing the dinner table, stacking the delicate plates, and accidentally chipped one. Tía Consuela screamed at her, startling her, causing her to knock the plates in her hands against one of the dainty crystal goblets and breaking it. This, of course, only made Consuela even more livid. Consuela grabbed Sofía tightly by her arm and dragged her out into the hallway.

  “Go to your room, muchacha! There will be no supper for you tonight,” Tía Consuela ordered. “Get out of my sight!”

  Sofía was never allowed to eat her meals with her aunt and cousins. She ate with the housekeeper in the kitchen after the family was finished eating. But this night she would go to bed hungry.

  Tía Consuela was a hardhearted woman and did not accept mistakes. Sometimes Sofía was sent to bed without supper, and sometimes Consuela punished her with a thick leather belt. Olivia and Roberto tried to protect Sofía and sneak her food, but if Consuela found out, she would punish her all the more. Sofía quickly learned to be very obedient, often keeping to herself.

  One night she lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering how much more of this life she could take. “When is Papa coming for me?” she asked herself in frustration. “He promised to come.” She rolled over in the bed, buried her face in her little pillow and cried herself to sleep once more.

  That night she had a dream that Papa came for her. He sat on the side of her bed and kissed her forehead. “Sofía. Wake up, Sofía. I’ve come to take you home, mi’ja.” Sofía opened her eyes and couldn’t believe her Papa was sitting on her bed. She sat up and flung her arms around him, giving him a good squeeze. She felt safe and happy. As she released her embrace, he faded away and she fell back to sleep.

  When she woke up in the morning, she was so disappointed that it had only been a dream. It seemed so real, like she could reach out and touch him. She got up, dressed herself, and went downstairs to serve breakfast.

  With the dream still vivid in her mind, without thinking, Sofía asked Tía Consuela if she knew when her papa would be coming for her. As soon as the words left her lips, she knew it was a mistake to have said it out loud. She wanted to take the words back, but it was too late.

  “You ungrateful girl!” Tía Josephina shouted at her. Consuela’s eyes narrowed and her lips grew tight. “After all I do for you, after all I give to you, this is how you act?” She grabbed Sofía by the hair and dragged her into the kitchen where she beat her hard with a large wooden spoon.

  That was the last time Sofía would dare to say out loud what she was thinking in her heart. She learned to guard her lips for her own protection.

  Sofía washed the breakfast dishes and cleaned the kitchen. It was time to go over to the hotel to start cleaning the rooms and baths.

  That afternoon, Olivia and Sofía were both working at the hotel. Olivia noticed some bruising on Sofía’s arm and felt badly for what her mother had done.

  “Sofía, let’s take a break together.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s go sit outside on the bench under the tree.” Sofía followed Olivia’s lead, ready for a few minutes to relax.

  “I am so sorry for how my mother treats you, Sofía. There’s no excuse for it.”

  “Thank you for saying that, but it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know. I just don’t understand what gets into her. She didn’t use to be that way. I’ve heard my aunts say Mama was the life of the party when she was younger. You should hear the stories they tell. They told me my mother had a very good singing voice back then, that she was beautiful, and that men were always chasing after her.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. One of my aunts, Tía Magdalena, once told me a little story about my mother when she was much younger. When Mama was about twenty, she had a friend named Petra whose husband was always flirting with Mama. Petra and Mama were down by the river washing clothes. They had a big metal tub full of boiling hot water they were using to do the laundry. Petra’s husband was very drunk and came stumbling down to the river to find them. He saw my mother and staggered right up to her and began telling her how much he loved her and that he wanted her.”

  “Ay, Diós! In front of his wife?”

  “Yes. Can you believe it?”

  “What happened?”

  “My mother told him to shut up and have some respect for his wife. But he was so drunk he just kept going on and on. Tía Magdalena told me this was not the first time he had flirted with my mother.”

  “Did he shut up?”

  “No, so Mama told him if he didn’t shut up she would throw him in the pot of boiling water. But he didn’t listen. He just wouldn’t shut up, so Mama pushed him in.”

  “Ay, Diós! Then what happened?”

  “Petra started screaming ‘You killed my husband! You killed my husband!’ ”

  “Did she?”

  “No, but he did get pretty scalded. Mama told Petra that he deserved it.” Olivia giggled a little. “And she told Petra that she was stupid to care. Tía Magdalena said that one did not mess with Consuela.”

  “Oh, Olivia. What a story!”

  It was time to return to work, but this story gave Sofía something to think about while she cleaned the bathrooms. Playing out the story over in her mind made her work less dreary. It even made her laugh a little.

  Her imagination was her sanctuary. At night, when she was alone in her meager bedroom, sometimes she made up stories in her head about what her life would have been like if the influenza had not come to her village. She saw herself helping Papa in the fields, making supper with Mama, talking and laughing with her brothers and sisters.

  Before the influenza epidemic, before she was forced to leave her village, she used to daydream about marrying one of the boys in her village one day and having lots of babies, just like her mama. She loved being part of her big family. Now, in her sparse little bedroom, as she drifted off to sleep, these stories in her head turned into happy dreams and she was content, at least for a little while.

  Morning came, and Sofía realized once more that it was all just a dream. She got dressed for the day and made her way downstairs to help with breakfast and the day’s chores. Someday, she thought to herself, she would live out those dreams, and Tía Consuela will not be there to take them away from her.

  Chapter 5: Free at Last

  Tía Consuela had been in poor health for almost a year. Near the end of her life, Sofía and Olivia waited on her day and night. Two days before Sofía’s eighteenth birthday, Tía Consuela passed away. It was 1928.

  Sofía tried to feel sorrow for her, as a good niece should, but the feelings wouldn’t come. When she thought of her aunt, she was reminded only of the harsh treatment she suffered at that woman’s hand for the past six years. Finally Sofía was free, and for that she was elated. But now what? She was exhilarated by her new freedom, but she was also fearful of what would come next.

  She had thought and dreamed many times about what she would do with her life when she was old enough to go out on her own. She pondered many questions: How would she live? What would she do to support herself? Would she find love? Would she have a
family of her own?

  Even though living with her aunt had been so difficult for Sofía, at least she had a place to live, clothes on her back and food every day. She never had to worry about these things, and for that she tried to be grateful. She remembered her mama always impressed on the children to be thankful for what they had.

  Sofía knew that once she turned eighteen it would become her own responsibility to provide for herself. She would be free to leave her aunt’s house. She was excited to be turning eighteen and for the freedom that would come with it. But she was also afraid of what the future would hold for her. She wanted to talk with Olivia about it, but she would need to wait a few days to let Olivia grieve her mother’s death.

  Sofía wished Papa was there to help her. Often, she wondered why she never heard from him once he put her on the train, why he never came for her. She thought about her brothers and her sister and wondered whatever became of them. Would she ever see them again? She longed for them.

  One morning, shortly after Consuela’s passing, Olivia invited Sofía to have breakfast with her in the breakfast room for the first time. Sofía had not been allowed to sit with the family and eat a meal. Olivia never wanted it that way. It was Tía Consuela. She always saw Sofía as the help, not as family.

  That morning, Sofía came downstairs to get her breakfast and eat it in the kitchen with Antonia. Olivia saw her out of the corner of her eye and called to her.

  “Sofía, come and have breakfast with me.”

  Standing in the doorway, Sofía paused for a moment. She hesitated.

  “Come, sit.” Olivia said, gesturing with her hand toward one of the chairs. “Antonia,” she called toward the kitchen, “please bring a plate for Sofía.”

  Sofía was surprised, but she happily went into the beautiful breakfast room and sat down. The room was flooded with natural light that bounced off the yellow and green floral wallpaper. Lovely lace curtains framed the tall windows, diffusing the sunlight. The housekeeper had made some eggs and chorizo with warm flour tortillas, along with a tray of fresh fruit. It all looked delicious.