She Had No Choice

by Debra Burroughs

  On the outskirts of Hollister was an old bar called “Johnny’s.” This was one of Carlos’s favorite hangouts after a long week in the fields. Unexpectedly, instead of driving past the bar, Carlos pulled over to the side of the road. The kids were surprised that he stopped here since the plan was to get to the movie theater before the show started. That’s what Papa had promised them.

  “No, we can’t stop here,” Eva said. “We’ll be late for the show.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, girl,” he growled. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said as he climbed out of the truck.

  “You boys stay here, and I’ll be right back. I’m just going in to get a beer, and then we’ll go to the movies.” And with that he ducked into the darkened bar.

  Eva stepped out of the vehicle and leaned on the side of the truck bed. She was mad, but she didn’t want to show it.

  “He’ll be right back,” she told her brothers. “He said it would just be a few minutes.” She tried to assure them, even though she wasn’t sure herself that he would be. Carlos wasn’t known for having only one beer.

  Eva and the boys tried to wait patiently, but time passed slowly in the afternoon heat. It had been almost an hour since he had gone into the bar, and they were all becoming irritated and impatient. It was getting hotter as time went on, and they were afraid they would miss the beginning of the movie.

  “I’m gonna go and see if he’s almost done,” Eduardo offered.

  “No, I’ll go in,” Eva said. “I’m the oldest. Maybe he’ll listen to me.”

  She tried her best to muster up the courage to go into the bar. She was a sixteen-year-old girl going in to confront a mean and likely already-drunk man. She had to be strong and try to get him to do what was right. He had promised her and the boys the movies as a reward, but now it seemed he would rather drink away the money and the afternoon.

  “Papa?” she called out as she entered the dark bar. Her eyes had not quite adjusted yet from the bright summer sunshine outside. Slowly she could make out the figures at the bar and found her father half-way down. She hadn’t called him “Papa” since she learned he was not her real father. But she thought, for this purpose, maybe it would soften him up.

  “Papa? Isn’t it time to go now?” she asked in a low, soft voice, but received no response.

  “Papa?” she said with a little more volume and force. “I think it’s time we go now.”

  Her eyes adjusted to the dim light just in time to see the back of his hand and then feel the sting of it on the side of her face.

  “I’ll go when I’m good and ready! You don’t tell me what to do!” he snapped.

  “But Papa, you promised,” she said quietly as she turned to go.

  He grabbed her by her hair. “Don’t talk back to me, muchacha,” he yelled and then pushed her away.

  Tears started to fill her eyes, her cheek still stinging, but she was determined not to let her brothers see her cry. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and held her head up high as she walked through the doorway out into the bright sunlight.

  Eva didn’t want to share what just happened with her brothers. She tried to put up a facade and keep her emotions under control. Though she was furious, she decided to let Carlos get away with it this time, but she told herself she would never let a man hit her again. Not ever.

  “Is he coming?” Eduardo asked. “It’s really getting hot out here. My shirt is starting to stick to me.”

  “Yeah. And the movie has probably started already,” Arturo added, as he shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked the dirt.

  “I know, guys. I’m sorry, but he’s drinking in there, and I don’t think he’s coming out for a long time. I’m so sorry.”

  The boys were angry and disappointed. How could their father do this to them? They had worked so hard, and he’d promised to take them to the movies as a reward. Now this. Drinking away the day and the money they worked so hard to earn. Not caring about them, only about his drinking.

  “I’m gonna go in and make him come out!” Eduardo declared. “We can’t let him do this to us.”

  Eva knew Eduardo would feel the wrath of their father even more fiercely. Eduardo would likely come out with a black eye or worse, she feared. Even if he was Carlos’s favorite, the alcohol would blur any distinction between the children. Carlos was an angry man who, on rare occasion, would show a glimmer of kindness. But he didn’t have enough goodness in him to see a good deed through.

  “No, Eduardo. Please. He’s been drinking for more than an hour, now. You know when he drinks it makes him even meaner than usual.” Eva was trying to protect her brother.

  Eduardo noticed the rosy handprint on the side of Eva’s face and knew what she meant. He had seen that and much worse on their mother when she tried to stand up to him, and he understood what Eva was telling him. They all had experienced it to some extent.

  “Then I’ll go,” little Mateo exclaimed. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Eva’s right, little brother, all we can do now is wait. The picture show will have to be put off to another day,” Eduardo reluctantly admitted, kicking the old truck’s back tire as sweat trickled down his back.

  So, Eva and the boys waited in the heat until after five o’clock when Carlos finally stumbled out of the bar. She and her brothers were hot, thirsty and extremely disappointed.

  Eva was afraid to let Carlos drive them home in his drunken condition. Even though the boys were very angry with Carlos, somehow they were able to talk him into riding in the back of the truck with them, where he promptly passed out. Eva would have to drive. She didn’t have a driver’s license, but she was the oldest and had some experience driving around the farms.

  One of the boys dug the keys out of Carlos’s pocket and handed them to Eva. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with her hand and slid into the driver’s seat. She nervously started the engine, slipped it into gear and slowly drove the pickup back to their home in Tres Pinos so her brothers would be safe.

  The boys pulled their father out of the back of the truck and helped him stumble to the house. Mama met them at the door. Her children all looked drenched and exasperated.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Do you really have to ask that, Mama?” Eva replied as she pushed past her, with an expression of disgust on her face. Taking one look at Carlos, Sofía knew exactly what had happened.

  “Supper will be ready soon,” Mama called out after them. Eva and the boys went to change out of their good clothes and try to find something else to do to take their minds off of this frustration.

  Carlos was passed out on his bed. Without him at supper, Sofía thought, perhaps they could have a peaceful meal.

  She stood over him, staring at him, wishing she could hurt him as much as he had hurt her children. But what good would it do, she thought, it would only come back on her in spades. So she did the only thing she could, she walked away and went to tend to the young ones and finish making supper. Maybe one day, she hoped, he would get what he had coming to him.

  Chapter 14: A Pivotal Moment

  Life went on as usual for Eva. Not much changed except her age. Every day that she grew older was a day she grew closer to escaping her miserable life. Working in the fields and orchards all summer long and into the fall, riding the bus from Tres Pinos to school in Hollister with some of her brothers, tending to the younger brothers and sisters, and dealing with Carlos’s abuse – that was her life. There were nine children now. It was 1949.

  While the older children were at school, Sofía savored the time she could spend with the younger ones, the babies. Between mending torn clothes, changing diapers, doing laundry, cooking and cleaning, she looked for opportunities to have one-on-one time with each of them, to rock them to sleep in her arms and sing softly to them. She danced around the room with them when they woke up from their naps. These were the parts of her day that helped to keep her from losing her mind.

  Soon her sanit
y would be tested. She had not told Carlos yet, or anyone else, that she was pregnant again with her tenth child. Though she loved each of her children very much, she truly hoped this one would be the last.

  The labor and birthing process of so many children had taken its toll of wear and tear on her petite body, not to mention the financial stress each child added. Combine that with the years of working in the fields and the ongoing violence she suffered at Carlos’s hand, she found herself at the very outer limit of what she could endure.

  Years ago, when Sofía was a young girl, she pictured her life so much differently. When she gave birth to Eva, she placed her own wishes and dreams on her daughter, hoping Eva would have the life Sofía realized she would never have for herself. But now, with the miserable life they now shared, she wondered if her dreams for Eva would ever be possible.

  On the bus ride home from school each day, Eva often gazed out the window and thought about her life. She daydreamed about becoming a nurse, helping people and making a good living, being someone others had respect for. Thinking back about how she almost didn’t get to go to high school, she was glad for the opportunity to continue her studies and to work toward a better future.

  She also dreamed of having a husband that loved her and treated her like a queen. She saw some of the fathers of other students in her class, as well as men who worked at the market and shops. They seemed to be kind and hardworking, not like her stepfather. The kids in her classes seemed happy and well cared for, so she assumed they must have good, loving parents at home. That’s the life she wanted.

  Eva didn’t really see herself having any children, though, because she had been feeding, diapering and caring for babies for as long as she could remember. She just wanted to focus on her own happiness and the adoring husband she hoped to have someday.

  Conditions at the Gonzalez home were not getting any better as time went on. Carlos drank more and became more and more abusive, not only to Sofía, but to all the children. Eva felt she could no longer take the violence that defined her home life.

  Guilt weighed heavily on Eva. She believed that she was the cause of much of Carlos’s abuse of her mother because he so intensely resented her. She was a constant reminder of Sofía’s life before him, that Eva was another man’s child, and he had to support her even though she was not his own.

  Eva was seventeen, and a junior in high school. She had a close friend at school, named Rosie, that she spent a lot of time with. Carlos and Sofía knew Rosie’s parents, so when Eva asked to spend the weekend at her house, Mama let her. Carlos didn’t argue about it, at least not in front of Eva.

  More and more, Eva started spending weekends at Rosie’s house and going to school with her on Monday mornings. It was such a relief to be away from her own home, away from Carlos. The girls listened to the radio, worked on homework together and just talked for hours. She didn’t want to spoil their fun together by telling Rosie about her awful life, she only wanted to enjoy her respite.

  But Carlos couldn’t just let Eva have her freedom from him. He began accusing her of staying out all weekend so she could go out with boys, inferring she was sleeping around with boys in town. He told Sofía that several friends of his told him they had seen Eva on a street corner in town getting into cars, like she was a prostitute. He even told Eva to her face that she was a puta, a tramp.

  One weekend, when she was staying over at Rosie’s house, Eva shared with her some of the things that happened at home. The girls were sitting on the bed talking about all kinds of stuff, and Eva started opening up. She hadn’t planned to open up about her family’s dirty secrets, but fear and a pool of emotions were always bubbling just below the surface. Before long, it all came spilling out.

  “You don’t know how lucky you are, Rosie.”

  Rosie had a confused look on her face.

  “I wish I could live in a home like yours,” Eva told her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your papa and mama don’t fight,” Eva said.

  “Sometimes they do. They’ll argue sometimes until one of them gives in. Usually Papa.”

  “No, Rosie, I mean really fight. Does your papa hit your mother?” Eva asked.

  “No, never. They just yell at each other.”

  “The old man, my stepfather, he hits my mama all the time,” Eva shared, with tears glistening in her eyes. She paused, not sure she should continue, but the words kept coming out anyway.

  “Sometimes he hits her really hard with his fists. He hits the rest of us kids, too, with his hands or belts or switches from the tree.”

  “Oh, Eva,” Rosie said, as she put her arm around her friend. “I didn’t know.”

  “He even told my mama that I stay the weekends in town with you so I can stand on street corners picking up guys. The old man said his friends saw me. He has such a dirty mind!”

  “What? Are you kidding? Oh, Eva.” Rosie couldn’t believe what her friend had to go through. This was the first time Eva told anyone about her life at home.

  “He’s just a dirty old man.”

  “Oh, Eva… Oh, Eva,” Rosie was so stunned by what Eva was telling her that that was all she could find to say.

  “There’s something else. I’ve never told anyone this before, except my mama. But once, when Mama wasn’t home, I was in the kitchen cooking at the stove. He came up behind me and stood really close. I could feel his breath. I was so scared. Then he put his hand up under my blouse.”

  “Oh, no,” Rosie gasped.

  “Yes. I just reacted and pulled away from him really fast. I was so scared.”

  “Then what?”

  “He just started laughing and walked away, like it was some big joke.”

  “Did you tell your mama?”

  “Yes. She told me not to be alone with him again. I think she knew it could be worse next time.”

  “Did your mama say anything to him?”

  “No, I’m sure she didn’t. He would have gotten mad that I told her,” Eva said. “When the old man gets mad at me, he usually takes it out on my mama.” Eva’s voice was quivering. She tried to stop the tears, not wanting to look weak in front of her friend.

  There was a long pause. Rosie didn’t know what to say.

  “I don’t like telling people about what happens at home,” Eva said, reaching for a tissue on the little table next to the bed. She was clearly embarrassed, but she was also relieved to have finally told someone. The tears started to flow and run down her cheeks. Rosie cried with her and did her best to comfort her.

  “You can’t tell anyone, Rosie. It’ll only make it worse. Promise me,” Eva implored her.

  “You need to tell somebody. There must be someone who can help,” Rosie tried to reason. But Eva was afraid. Eventually she had to go back home.

  The next day was Monday, and Eva went to school with Rosie. She thought more about what Rosie said, about her needing to tell someone what was happening at home. Eva desperately wanted to get away from Carlos and stop the nightmare her family was living, but she was afraid.

  After mulling it over in her mind all day, she ran into Rosie after school by the lockers. She told her she’d been thinking all day about what she should do. Rosie continued to encourage Eva to go to the authorities to report the abuse. Eva was finally convinced that was what she needed to do and left right away for the Sheriff’s Department.

  Stepping into the two-story white stucco county offices building, she followed the signs directing her to the Sheriff’s Office. She found the right door and peeked in. Seeing a middle-aged man in a tan sheriff’s uniform sitting at a desk, she nervously walked up to the counter and caught his attention. He strolled over to the counter, and Eva timidly introduced herself.

  She then proceeded to tell the sheriff her story. He acted like he was listening to her, so she thought she would finally get some help. But he didn’t believe her. He thought she was making it up, just another teenager wanting to get away from home.

  She beg
ged him to help her. But all he did was insist that she go back home. His unwillingness to help made her so angry. She couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t help her.

  While she was talking to the officer, a county nurse that Eva knew walked by. The nurse worked for the social services department and had come to their house to check on Sofia after she gave birth at home to some of the younger children. Her name was Naomi Walker.

  She stopped to say hello to Eva when she saw her through the doorway. Eva explained to Nurse Walker what was happening and how she was trying to get this sheriff to help her.

  “Sheriff, this girl is telling you the truth. I’ve been to her house. I’ve seen how her father treats her mother and the children. You have to help them.” Nurse Walker was sure her corroboration would get things moving. Sadly, she was wrong.

  “Like I told this girl, Ma’am, there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry,” the sheriff said. “Just go on home to your people, girl.”

  “Her people?” the nurse asked. “What do mean by that?”

  “Oh, you know, the wet-backs. I’m not going to get in the middle of their goings-on.”

  “Sheriff, this girl needs your help.”

  “I can’t do anything for her, sorry.” Eva and Miss Walker could both see he wasn’t going to help any Mexicans, or “wet-backs”, as he put it.

  “You’re disgraceful, Sheriff.” Nurse Walker blushed with embarrassment by his obvious prejudice.

  “Eva, come out here with me,” she said as she led Eva out into the hallway, closing the door after them.

  “I’m going to give you my telephone number. You call me next time you have a problem at home. Maybe I can come up with something.” She took a piece of paper out of her purse, wrote her number on it and handed it to Eva. Miss Walker didn’t know how she could help, but she couldn’t walk away from this girl without giving her some kind of hope.