She Had No Choice

by Debra Burroughs

  “So many children and they’ve never married.” “Who does she think she’s fooling?” “Why won’t that man marry that poor woman?”

  Many of the women would whisper behind her back or as she walked by. Some were even so bold as to say out loud what they were thinking, as if they were only talking to themselves or to each other, but certainly intended for Sofía to hear. She knew what they meant, and it cut through her like a sharp knife. In her heart she felt that she was Carlos’s wife, after all the years they have lived together and the many children they share. But she understood that in the eyes of the Catholic Church and other people who knew them, they were not married.

  Occasionally, if Carlos was in one of his rare good moods, Sofía would venture to bring the subject up. Late one Saturday morning, he had just gotten up and wandered over to the dining table. He hadn’t gone out drinking the night before because he worked late into the evening and his boss had given him a cash bonus for staying late. Sofía set down before him a good breakfast of chorizo, fried eggs and fresh tortillas. He cleaned the plate and was feeling relaxed and satisfied.

  “Carlos, don’t you think it’s time we get married?” she asked, in as sweet a voice as she could possibly speak.

  “What for?” he asked, starting to get irritated. “We’ve been together a long time, and we have all these kids,” he said, motioning with his hand to the children playing on the floor. “I don’t know why we need to do that.” He always dismissed the idea whenever she brought it up.

  “But Carlos, you don’t have to face the priest and see what he’s thinking. I feel so ashamed in front of him,” she said as she poured him another cup of coffee.

  “Then don’t go to church. You don’t have to go.” Carlos truly wished she would stop going, then maybe she would stop bringing up the subject of marriage.

  “And the women in town, they’re always whispering behind my back when I’m shopping. Sometimes they just come right out and say things.”

  “What kind of things?” he asked, as she sat down across the table from him.

  “Things like, ‘Don’t you think it’s time you get married, Sofía, with all those children you have? All those illegitimate children?’ ”

  “It’s none of their business! We don’t need to stand before some stupid priest and say some stupid words so everyone else feels better.” He was starting to get angry now. To him, she was already his wife, end of story. Sofía could see it was time to drop the subject, for now.

  A few weeks later, Carlos and Sofía were invited over to the modest home of one of Carlos’s drinking buddies for a party. There would be plenty of food, drinking and music, Carlos was told. He was looking forward to it, and Sofía was expected to come along.

  Carlos waited with excitement for the party so he and his friends could let loose and have a good time, drinking, playing their guitars or bongos, and enjoying the music and singing along. The men in Carlos’s circle, mostly other farm workers, lived in a culture of male dominance and a party was one place they could display it.

  Sofía, on the other hand, knew it would just be another opportunity to wait on the men. At social gatherings, like this party, the women were expected to stay out of the way unless they were waiting on the men, bringing them another beer or tequila or something to eat.

  Sofía never really had close friends, Carlos didn’t allow it. But she did have some acquaintances, women she knew in circumstances similar to hers. Some of these women would be at the party, and they would be expected to do their part, as well, and help keep the food and drinking coming. They would also be expected to do the clean up. Like Sofía, the women were often just kept around to do the cooking and cleaning, and to be a warm body in their man’s bed. If there was love, it was a bonus.

  Eva watched the younger children while the parents went to the party. She made supper for them and then they sat on the floor listening to the radio stories before they went to bed. Mama and Carlos were not expected back until long after they had gone to sleep.

  At the party, between serving and cleaning up, Sofía enjoyed listening to the music. It brought back memories of how she used to sing in the restaurant in Phoenix and how so many people had told her then that she had a beautiful voice. This particular evening, without thinking, she joined in on a familiar song some of the men were singing. She did have a beautiful voice, and it had been so long since she had a chance to sing. She just let the music flow out of her. All eyes were on her and she became the center of attention. The men, on their way to being drunk, all seemed to be very happy to have her join them. All the men except Carlos.

  As soon as the song was finished, while everyone else was clapping for more, Carlos came up behind Sofía and grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her out of the house.

  Standing on the rickety porch, with only a single bare light bulb illuminating the front yard, he shouted at her, “We have to go now, woman!”

  “But, Carlos, what’s wrong? I was having fun,” she tried to explain. “You’re hurting my arm.”

  “You embarrassed me, acting like a whore! You wanted all those men to watch you, to get excited by you!”

  “No, Carlos,” she begged him, trying to calm him down, trying to pull free from his grip on her arm. “I just love to sing. Please, Carlos, it was nothing. It’s just been so long since I had a chance to sing. I was just…”

  He grabbed her by the throat and stared her in the eyes. “Sing now, puta! Sing now, you whore!”

  She tried to loosen his crushing grip, but he wouldn’t let go. She could feel herself losing consciousness. Carlos must have felt her frail body beginning to slump because he finally let go and stepped off the porch. She steadied herself against the porch post and tried to catch her breath, coughing and sputtering.

  “You’ll never embarrass me like that again, pendeja,” he said in a slow, smoldering tone. “Your place is to wait on the men, not to entertain them and get them hot for you.” He grabbed hold of her forearm and yanked her down off the porch.

  “Carlos, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was just singing,” she tried again to explain.

  “Shut up!” he screamed, his anger rising.

  “But Carlos…” she started to say as the back of his powerful hand smacked against the side of her fragile face, sending her back against the porch post.

  “You’re just trying to make me jealous! You make me sick!”

  “Get in the truck!” he ordered her with a little shove, then he stomped around to the other side. He got in, slammed the door, and started up the engine.

  There was only angry silence on the short drive home in the old green pickup truck. The children had gone to bed and the little house was dark. Carlos grabbed Sofía by the hair and dragged her into their bedroom. He pushed her down on the bed, climbed on top of her, and raped her.

  Eva had been asleep on her little mat on the floor by the front door when she was awakened by the sounds of their fighting. She was frozen with fear and tried to make herself as small and as invisible as possible, pretending to still be asleep.

  When Carlos was finished with Sofía in the bedroom, he demanded that she go and make him something to eat. It was very late, so she just warmed up some beans and tortillas. He sat down at the table, and she put the plate down in front of him. He looked at it for a moment, picked it up and threw it against the kitchen wall, shattering it with a thunderous crash.

  The loud noise made Sofía jump with fear and cover her mouth with her hand to muffle her gasp. She had already been battered and raped that night. What more would he do to her? she worried. Had he awakened the children? Would they have to witness this violence?

  Carlos began swearing at Sofía, calling her all kinds of filthy names. He grabbed her by the wrist and hit her in the face with his fist, then he dragged her by the hair out to the backyard where he continued to beat her.

  Eva quietly snuck into the bed where her brothers slept to find them awake as well. They
could all hear what was going on in the tiny house. They quietly crowded together under the blankets in the big bed, too afraid to come out of it, too afraid Carlos would take his anger out on them, as well.

  After awhile, Eva and her brothers heard Carlos come back inside and go to bed. The children lay awake for hours, huddling in the bed, too frightened to go to sleep. Eventually, they heard the back door quietly close, and they knew Mama had come back inside, too.

  In the morning, Eva found her mother in the kitchen, making breakfast. Carlos was still in bed sleeping off his drunkenness. Mama was facing the sink, so Eva couldn’t see her face at first. But, she noticed the purplish handprint on her upper left arm.

  “Mama,” she said softly, gently putting her hand on her mother’s arm. “Oh, Mama.”

  “We mustn’t speak of this, mi’ja,” Sofía replied in a hushed tone as she turned toward Eva. Sofía’s eyes were darting around, making sure Carlos was not getting up and coming where he could hear them.

  When she turned to look for Carlos, Eva saw her mother’s face, the cut lip and the swollen eyes. Eva gasped and quickly put her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound. Then she saw the bruises around her mother’s neck where Carlos had attempted to choke the life out of her.

  Eva was filled with anger as she took in the full extent of Mama’s injuries. Her legs were bruised and Eva assumed Mama likely had bruises on her abdomen, as well.

  Eva thought back to the feelings of terror she had felt the night before, as she lay on her mat and listened while most of the beating happened. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, to call Carlos every foul name she could think of. But she knew she dare not make a sound or she would run the risk of waking him, like poking an angry bull.

  Eva wanted to pummel his face with her little fists, but she knew she couldn’t. She wanted to hate him for what he had done to her mother, to all of them, but Mama said it would only poison her heart and he would win. So, all she could do was give Mama a long, gentle hug and quietly weep with her.

  Carlos eventually woke up and stumbled out of the bedroom and went into the little kitchen. He sat down at the table, rubbing his rough, cracked hand over his face and then through his greasy, disheveled hair. He looked around, wondering where Sofía was and if there was anything for him to eat.

  It was Sunday morning and the children were outside playing. Sofía had been watching them and came back inside to see if he was up yet.

  “Sofía, bring me something to eat!” he ordered as he saw her come in.

  She knew he would be up soon, so she had a warm beef burrito and fried potatoes waiting for him. She quietly walked over and gently set the plate down on the table in front of him, not saying a word, trying not to upset him in any way.

  He looked up at Sofía and saw what he had done to her. His eyes got wide, and he was speechless for just a moment. He was fighting off a hangover, but his blurry memory came flooding back and he remembered what he done to her in his drunken rage the night before.

  “Sofía, I’m sorry… so sorry.” He sounded apologetic, remorseful. “I didn’t know what I was doing. You just made me so angry, so jealous. With the way you were showing off, and the tequila, I just lost control,” he went on, trying to shift the blame.

  The words tumbled out of his mouth as if he was trying to sound like he was sorry. Maybe he was, a little. Sofía was not sure she believed him. His violent outbursts were getting worse, especially when he drank. But this was the first time he actually seemed like just maybe he was sorry afterward. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing and looked away.

  Carlos stood up and put his arms around her. She flinched. She didn’t want him to touch her. It gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  He seemed to feel some shame for what he had done to her – not necessarily because he felt he did something wrong, but more because he knew others would see her and know how badly he had beaten her. They would know the kind of man he really was.

  “How can I make this up to you, Sofía? Tell me.”

  Tears filled her eyes and no words would come. She buried her face in her hands and cried.

  “I know, Sofía, I know how I can make it up to you. You’ve been talking about wanting to get married. So…let’s get married. Will that make it up to you?”

  Yes, she had been asking him for some time to marry her, to make her a respectable woman. But after what he had done to her last night, the thought of it made her stomach turn. Her knees went weak and she grabbed a chair and sat down.

  She was not sure she wanted to marry this man she did not love and who clearly did not love her. But what other life could she have? They already had six children together. There was no leaving. At least, if they were married, she could hold her head up at mass and around the community. So she reluctantly agreed.

  They made plans to have a small ceremony at the Catholic Church with just the children and a handful of his friends and their wives. Carlos and Sofía were married about a month later. By then, her bruises and cuts were healed – at least the ones on the outside.

  Chapter 12: War and Peace

  In 1941, World War II began. Eva was nine years old. Her family heard of the bombing at Pearl Harbor, but it didn’t mean much to them. It seemed so far away from California and had little impact on their meager lives and their sleepy little town of Hollister.

  One thing that did change, though, was that they received ration books. The government issued a ration book to every man, woman and child. Carlos and Sofía had six children at the time, so they received eight books. The government told the people they were free to continue buying food staples as they wanted, but the little stamps in the ration books allowed them to buy certain “restricted” things, like sugar, coffee, cigarettes and gasoline. The citizens were informed that these goods were rationed so there would be plenty of these items for the soldiers fighting in the war.

  Sofía didn’t know it at the time, but one of those soldiers was her little brother, Marcelo. Years later she found out that her younger brother, whom she had not seen since she left her family in Arizona when she was twelve, had changed his last name and joined the United States Army at the beginning of the war. He was fighting the war in France in defense of the United States when he was badly wounded and later died in an army hospital in France.

  There was one particular thing that was rationed during the war which did affect Sofía’s family – shoes. They were allowed two pair of shoes a year. This was fine for the adults, whose shoe size doesn’t change. But if the children outgrew their shoes before it was time to use another stamp, they passed the outgrown shoes along to a younger child and went barefoot, hoping someone would eventually pass their shoes on to them.

  Going barefoot was very uncomfortable for the children, even painful sometimes. The rundown little house the Gonzalez family lived in had no lawn or concrete, only dirt all around their house. There were many times the children would cut their feet on glass or metal, which at times got infected.

  It was important they kept shoes on their feet as long as possible. If they wore out the soles of their shoes before they outgrew them, they stuffed cardboard in the bottoms if the outsides were still in decent condition. This helped them to keep shoes on their feet a little longer.

  When Eva was about eleven or twelve years old, near the end of the war, the Christmas season was approaching. There were never any presents from Santa for Eva or her brothers and sister, like the other kids at school received, because Carlos couldn’t find work in the winter.

  But there was one particular Christmas that they did have a tree. Eva’s school gave the “classroom trees” to needy families, and that year her family got one. The decorations had all been stripped off first, but at least the school workers did leave the tinsel on. So, Eva and her brothers happily added decorations they made from paper and colored macaroni.

  Another Christmas, Eva and her family received surprise gifts from firemen and strangers.
Late one night, right before Christmas, a big red fire truck stopped in front of their house. The family had already gone to bed. There was a sharp knock at their front door.

  The door was close to where Eva slept on her little mat on the floor, and the knocking woke her up. Mama and Carlos came out of their room and the boys sat up in their big old brass bed.

  Eva opened the door and was surprised by a tall, muscular fireman wearing his uniform. He had a big box of books in his arms.

  “Merry Christmas, little lady,” he said. “Can we come in?”

  Eva was speechless. She looked at Mama, who nodded yes. Eva looked back at the fireman and nodded to him. She backed up out of the way and let him by. Then another fireman brought in a large box of used toys right behind him. They set their boxes down and went out for another load.

  “We’ll be right back,” the first fireman told Carlos and Sofía in a deep voice. The kids were quietly watching with wide eyes. This time the firemen brought in a couple of boxes of food.

  “Gracias, gracias,” Mama kept saying. Carlos just watched in disbelief. That year the Gonzalez family had a good Christmas.

  A few years later, shortly after the war, a service club in Hollister started a new Christmas tradition for the town. Every December, on a Saturday before Christmas, the club arranged for all the children in town to go to the movies for free. Eva and the older brothers were allowed to go.

  The movie theater showed westerns and cartoons to entertain the kids. It was a very special time, children of all kinds sitting side by side in the darkened theater, laughing and enjoying themselves. That day, there was no skin color, there were no rich kids or poor kids. They were just kids enjoying a fun afternoon at the movies.

  After the movies and cartoons were over, volunteers stood at the doors and handed each child a bag filled with hard candy, unshelled walnuts, an orange and an apple. Eva and her brothers always appreciated those gifts and took them home to share with the younger children and with Mama.