When we arrived home, my mother made the decision: We were moving eighteen miles away, to Laguna at the coast, to be closer to my godfather. We would be safer there.
Three
June 1835
I hated Laguna. The city was a crowded jungle of houses that ran along the horseshoe bay. I could feel the heat that radiated off the homes painted in bright hues of blue, green, and yellow. The only things the houses had in common were the clay roofs that were baked into a deep red from the Brazilian sun. The people always yelled, one voice over the other trying to make itself heard.
Though every village had its gossips, Laguna’s were malicious. I was a favorite subject for them. How can a fourteen-year-old girl with no father walk the streets with such pride? Women whispered as I walked past them, their hands discreetly over their mouths, pretending they didn’t want me to hear. She doesn’t talk to anyone; maybe there is something wrong with her?
Wandering through the streets, I tilted my head to the heavens, praying to God to deliver me from such a wretched place. I missed my horse and our early morning rides. The smell of the woods after a rain. My freedom.
In a city so full of people, I was amazed to feel so…alone. My sisters, Maria and Felicidad, had been married off shortly before our move. I was left alone with our mother and our godfather, a shipping clerk. My mother took work cleaning the homes of the wealthy.
I ran my hands along my waist, feeling my hips, which had spread due to my newfound womanhood. My angular lines had softened out, giving me what many called a pleasantly plump profile.
One day as I was filling up the water jugs, I noticed a group of the village women talking in hushed tones, looking over at me in turn. When they saw that I was watching them they sauntered over to me, their baskets resting on their hips.
“It won’t take you very long to find a husband.” The lead woman wiggled her eyebrows as an amused smirk slowly spread across her face. “At least not with birthing hips like those.”
A petite black woman placed her hands on my hips, sizing me up. “Menina, if my hips were as wide as yours, I probably could have gotten a better husband. I certainly wouldn’t have had a twelve-hour labor for my last child.”
I tried to pick up my water jugs, but my arm hit my left breast, making me spill water everywhere. I could not get used to these things. They were suddenly always in my way. The women doubled over in laughter. “See, Gloria, I told you some women have all the luck.”
My new body was the talk of the gossips. Unfortunately, all of this led to men following me around asking to help with the most ridiculous things. As if I were unable to do anything for myself. They really were such a bother.
One morning, as the light from the rising sun crawled across the city, a sniveling, sorry excuse for a man by the name of Manoel Duarte approached me. Short and squat, at full height he barely stood above my shoulder. He looked as if he had just finished crying; his eyes were red, and he sniffled uncontrollably. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that he washed his hair with grease.
“May I carry your water for you?” he asked, out of breath from having to take large strides to keep up with me. I picked up my pace as he trailed behind me.
The next day he showed up at the well again. He asked if he could carry my water, and again I walked past him without saying a word. Surely if I continued to ignore him, he would go away like the stray dog that he was.
A few weeks later, while the sun set over Laguna, I sat down for our meager dinner of rice and beans with my godfather and mother. “I received a letter from your sister, Maria, today,” my mother said with a grin. “She is very happy with her husband. Ship caulkers make a fine living. She doesn’t need to work. Only tend to the house.”
“Good for her,” I said, reaching for more rice.
“I understand shoemakers make a good living as well,” my mother said. “One, in particular, seems to have his eyes on you.”
I looked up, stopping midchew. “Who?”
“A certain young man who likes to walk home with you from the well.” My mother smiled coyly as my godfather stared intently into his beans.
“Mother, I don’t know what you are talking about. There is only one person who likes…Oh no, Mother, you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”
“I was paid a visit today by Manoel. He is a nice young man. He says that you and he—”
“He and I nothing!” I roared. “I have no interest in that man at all. Whatever he told you is a lie.”
“It can’t be that much of a lie. He asked me for your hand in marriage today.”
“Mother, no,” I said, fighting the tears that were building in my eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
“A woman without a father is nothing. You need to be protected and taken care of.” My mother kept a controlled coolness that made me angrier.
“No,” I said, feeling my world crashing in. I was only fourteen. I wasn’t ready for this.
“The contract is already signed,” my mother said, as if she were buying produce at the market.
“I can’t believe you did this without my permission! I shouldn’t have to marry anyone!” I yelled.
“Anna!” She dropped her food onto her plate. “I am your mother. I don’t need your permission to do anything. I could have you dragged out into the streets and beaten for your disrespect. No one would even question me. Whatever notions you have in your head, you need to get rid of them right now. You have two purposes in life. One is to get married and the other is to make children with your husband. That’s it.”
“If that is to be my lot in life, then why not pick someone better? Why not let me marry someone of my own choosing?”
“Because you will be foolish and marry for love. You are a dreamer, Anna, always with your head in the clouds. I will not let you make my mistakes. Manoel will be a good husband.” Her voice shook as she pressed her fists against the table.
“How do you know? Do you know anything about him at all?” I asked as my eyes betrayed me, letting tears trickle out. Manoel Duarte had a small, run-down shoe repair shop in the center of town. It was a well-known fact that the reason his shop was so badly kept was because all of his profit was spent at the tavern. The tavern owner’s wife liked to joke that Manoel was a gracious benefactor. It was because of his patronage that she was able to acquire so many new dresses. And this was the man my mother expected me to marry?
“You haven’t gotten any other offers, and he promised that he would take good care of you.”
“Yes, because the promises of a drunk are always to be believed.” I stormed out of the house, running as fast as I could. I made it down to the docks, where I grasped my sides, sucking in deep, jagged breaths. My mind raced. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I paced, trying to control my breathing. I looked at the ships rising and falling with the gentle rocking of the ocean. Perhaps I could get on one and sail away to some other land. I took a step toward the harbor. For a moment, I closed my eyes, imagining. I could go somewhere exotic, like France or Africa. I could run away. Be a merchant, have adventures. Sail the seas. Get out of this horrible town. I could…
I shook my head, wiping away my silly thoughts. Even if I ran away, what would I do when I got there? I raised my chin as I regained control of my breathing. There was only one thing I could do. I turned on my heel and walked home. I was going to get married whether I liked it or not. Because as my mother said, I was nothing without a husband or a father.