A Golden Moment of Freedom

By Elena Torres

Teresa Moreno is growing up in 1960s Texas with no ambitions other than to marry and raise a family. But her destiny takes her in a direction she never dreamt of and she finds a purpose to her life beyond anything she couldve imagined. To realize this purpose she must battle her parents and the culture she was born into, discovering along the way a strength she didnt know she had.
Agonize and triumph with Teresa as she matures into a confident, successful woman on the edges of the most tumultuous times in American history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 18, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503546882

Elena Torres

Elena Torres was born in New Mexico, lived many years in Los Angeles and now resides in Denver. It was during her years in Los Angeles that she fully realized her love of writing and became a published poet. She wrote the first paragraph for this novel in 1984 and tucked it away, thinking she would do something with it later. When she moved to Denver she decided she wanted to write a book and retrieved that paragraph, from which A Golden Moment of Freedom was born.

Book preview

Prologue

Teresa Moreno and her sister, Angela, sit in the darkened hospital room with their mother, Linda. They sit on either side of her bed, holding her hands. The doctor told them that she will not make it through the night. Teresa looks at her sister and is surprised that her eyes are dry. Angela is not emotionally strong and Teresa worried that she wouldn’t be able to hold herself together at this point. Angela doesn’t look at Teresa, her gaze is fixed on her mother.

Mama, she whispers, but there is no response. Linda’s face is calm, her eyes closed. Every once in a while her fingers close around her daughters’ hands then relax, as if to let them know she is still alive. But she doesn’t open her eyes.

Teresa bends her head to kiss her mother’s hand and puts her forehead down on it. Linda sighs and Teresa looks up at her, lying perfectly still. Angela looks at Teresa with panic-stricken eyes. Just then she squeezes their hands again and they both relax.

The door opens and Teresa’s father walks in. He smiles sadly at his daughters and stands at the foot of the bed. Papa, sit down, Teresa says, getting up. He shakes his head but moves to the side of the bed. She goes to stand by Angela and watches him lean over to kiss his wife’s forehead, smoothing her hair back. Can she hear us, Teresa wonders, does she know we’re here? It would be like her to purposely not react to Papa’s touch.

All during her illness, Linda treated her husband with disdain, openly blaming him for the events of her unhappy life. Her daughters have not fared much better. Angela has accepted all the blame her mother has put on her and Teresa knows she will live the rest of her life with that imaginary guilt, for Angela has always been the good daughter. Linda never said it, but Teresa always felt Angela was her mother’s favorite. But she was never hurt by it, she just accepted it. And, unlike Angela, she refuses to feel guilty for anything. If I had lived like you wanted me to, she tells her mother silently, I would have ended up like you, bitter and cold. I’m sorry I disappointed you, Mama, but I just couldn’t do that.

Chapter 1

(Spring 1961, Teresa is 12 years old)

Teresa pumped her legs, pushing the swing higher and higher until she felt like she was flying. She could feel her hair fall away from her body as she leaned her head back and pointed her feet toward the sky, pushing herself until the exhilaration almost took her breath away. Then, as always, a little thrill of fear replaced it when she felt the tension in the chain give, telling her she was going too high. She could hear her friend Sarah calling her, so she relaxed and sat up, letting the swing slow down by itself.

Terrie, let’s go, Sarah called, walking toward the swings. She stayed after school every day to help her teacher clean the blackboard and Teresa always waited for her at the swings. By the time Sarah reached her, she was dragging her feet on the ground to slow herself down.

Are you ready?

Yeah, Teresa jumped down off the swing, causing it to clang wildly against the posts, I’ll race you to the sidewalk.

Terrie, wait! Sarah called, as Teresa took off running across the school yard. By the time they reached the sidewalk, Sarah had caught up to her.

No fair, you’re wearing shorts, Teresa protested, pulling at one side of her dress.

And sneakers, Sarah tossed her head and started walking up the sidewalk. Teresa fell in step beside her. She hated having to wear dresses to school all the time. If she could wear shorts and pants like everybody else, she wouldn’t have to play jacks at recess with creepy Janice Reed, the only other girl at school who always wore dresses. Janice wasn’t really as creepy as she looked. Her dresses were faded and fit her too big and she always had this silly little smile on her face, even when the kids were making fun of her. But Teresa found herself actually liking her a little bit. Not too much, though, or the other kids would make fun of her, too. She didn’t like it when they did that to Janice and she certainly didn’t want them to do it to her.

Sarah looked at Teresa walking beside her. Her black hair hung to her waist and was cut in perfectly straight bangs just above her eyebrows. It was so straight and shiny, Sarah wished it was hers instead of the short blond curls she had. Teresa glanced sideways at her. What? she demanded.

Do you think if I let my hair grow long it would be straight like yours?

I don’t know, Teresa’s brows creased, maybe it would be black, too. Sarah looked at her blankly for a second, then frowned.

Very funny, she said. Teresa laughed.

Sarah laughed, too, and asked, Are you gonna ride your bike later?

Probably. By now they were coming up on Sarah’s front gate.

Want to come in? Sarah asked, opening the gate. The baby’s probably awake.

Teresa loved to play with Sarah’s new baby brother, he was so tiny. He had no hair, just soft, colorless fuzz that covered his whole body. Her own little sister had been born with a head full of thick hair, so a bald baby fascinated her. She considered it for a second, then shook her head.

No, I better go home.

Ok, see ya, Sarah smiled as she closed the gate.

Teresa skipped the rest of the way home, singing to herself. Three houses down she turned into the small yard littered with toys. She looked around for her little sister, Rosie, but she was nowhere around. Mama usually let her play outside under the tree when it was hot inside. The house was smaller and a bit more rundown than the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, but it was okay. Her parents had moved into it just last year, bringing Teresa to a new school where she was the only student in the whole school who was not white. She didn’t notice it, and nobody else seemed to, either. She had met Sarah on the first day, so adjusting was easy. As she reached the front door, piano strains and a deep man’s voice announced her mother’s favorite soap opera. She flung open the screen door and Rosie fell out.

Teresa!

Sorry, Mama, I didn’t see her! Teresa bent down to pick up the screaming baby. Her older sister Angela came running out of the kitchen and took the baby from her.

What happened? she asked, rocking the baby and patting her back to calm her down.

Teresa comes charging in like only she knows how and doesn’t see the baby at the door, her mother explained angrily, still seated in the recliner chair. She’s probably busted her head open. Bring her here, is she bleeding?

Teresa could tell by the way her mother moved that she had spent the day cleaning the house. She had a very weak back and chores like mopping and scrubbing strained it so she could hardly move. It also put her in a bad mood.

"Ay, manita," Angela sighed as she handed the blubbering baby to her mother.

Blinking back tears, Teresa went without a word to the bedroom she shared with Angela, resisting the urge to slam the door. Mama would hear her and spank her for throwing a tantrum. Tantrums weren’t allowed in this house. She took a pair of freshly ironed brown shorts from her dresser drawer and a yellow cotton blouse from the closet. She pulled her dress up over her head and threw it with all her might to the floor. It didn’t make any noise and didn’t make her feel any better, either. It’s not my fault, she told herself, Mama should’ve been watching Rosie. Why didn’t she tell me she was there?

Pick it up and put it in the dirty clothes, Angela was standing at the door.

I will, Teresa glared at her, give me time to change my clothes first.

Angela started to say something and then changed her mind. She watched her little sister button up her blouse, thinking how skinny her legs looked in her shorts. She wondered if she’d have any kind of figure when she got older or if she’d always be thin, like their Aunt Connie. Aunt Connie was 22 years old and married, but she had no shape -- no waist, no hips, nothing. Mama said Aunt Connie had always been a tomboy and Teresa was just like her. Connie had a long, ugly scar running down the length of the outside of her right leg from an accident she had as a child. She and a bunch of kids were playing around some old junked cars her father had in the yard. Connie was jumping from the top of one car to another when she slipped and fell, ripping her leg open on the corner of an open card door. Connie told Angela Grandma Lupe fainted when they carried her into the house, screaming and gushing blood. Mama’s older sister, Maria, stayed with Grandma while Grandpa drove Mama and Connie to the hospital. She said Mama cried with her the whole way. When they got to the hospital, the nurses had to pry her out of Mama’s arms, they were clinging to each other so tightly. Angela guessed that was why Mama watched Teresa so closely. If she was outside for very long, Mama would go to the door and start calling her. Maybe she was afraid that something like that would happen to her. And it might, Teresa was always outside, climbing trees or riding her bike and scraping herself up.

Teresa sat on the edge of the bed to put on her sneakers. She was aware of Angela watching her, but she ignored her. Her hair fell forward, hiding her face when she bent down to tie her shoes. Angela watched her fling it back over to one side and thought once again about talking to her mother about having it cut. It was beautiful, so thick and silky, but it was too heavy. Angela believed it was the cause for the headaches Teresa had been getting lately. It was time to get her hair cut anyway; she was 12 years old and not a little girl anymore. She didn’t even play with dolls anymore.

Teresa stepped over to the dresser and poked through her barrette box for a rubber band. Angela walked up behind her and picked up the hairbrush.

You want it in a ponytail? she asked.

Yeah, Teresa handed her the rubber band over her shoulder.

Rosie wasn’t hurt, Angela began brushing Teresa’s hair back from her face, she just got scared. She’s okay.

Mama’s mad at me anyway, Teresa winced as Angela caught a tangle, Ouch! It’s always my fault when something happens to Rosie.

Oh, Terrie, you know how Mama is, Angela looked at her in the mirror, It’s the way Rosie screams that makes her mad. And then she gets mad at you for making her scream. She held all of Teresa’s hair in her left hand and ran the brush down the length of it. Her back hurts, too.

Angela had come home from school today to the familiar smell of Pine Sol all over the house. She had found Mama on her hands and knees in the bathroom, scrubbing behind the toilet bowl. She had told Angela that morning that she wanted her to help her clean the house this afternoon since it was a short school day for her, but by the time she got home, the house was already clean. All that was left for Angela to do was help Mama get up from the floor and walk over to the chair. She had been busy making tortillas for supper when Teresa got home.

Teresa scowled at Angela in the mirror, Her back always hurts. And Rosie’s such a brat, she cries for everything. She’s always getting me in trouble.

Angela pulled Teresa’s head back by her hair until she was looking up at her, No, you’re always getting yourself in trouble. Always running and jumping around and never watching where you’re going. Teresa straightened her head, frowning, Liar.

Besides, talk about getting in trouble, Angela sighed, wait till Papa gets home. He’s gonna be real mad at me for not helping Mama clean.

Well, she didn’t wait for you, Teresa smoothed her bangs with her hand, How does Papa want you to help her if she won’t wait?

Well, he does. He—

Angie! Mama’s voice cut her off, "come change the baby, Mija!"

Are there any tortillas? Teresa asked, following Angela out of the room.

Yeah, on top of the stove, Angela pointed toward the kitchen as she turned into the living room.

As she sat at the table, spreading butter on the warm tortilla, Teresa could hear Angela cooing to the baby and Mama talking. Then, the familiar man’s voice announced the end of Mama’s soap opera. Teresa jumped up from the table and hurriedly put everything away; time for cartoons! She grabbed her glass of milk and went into the living room.

Mama smiled at her, her anger forgotten. Did you bring anything from school?

Oh, yeah, it’s in my room.

Go get it.

Teresa ran to her room and fished out a slightly crumpled drawing of the constellation Scorpio she had done for Science. She had been telling Mama about it all week and promised to bring it home today. She unfolded it and looked at it again, a warm feeling of satisfaction and pride washing over her at the sight of the big red A Mrs. Davis had put in the upper right-hand corner. She had worked hard to get the placement of the stars just right so the outline of the scorpion would show up perfectly. Sarah had drawn the Phoenix constellation and her outline was so detailed Mrs. Davis had called her an artist. Looking at her drawing now, Teresa wondered if the astronaut that went up in space last week had seen these constellations.

Mrs. Davis had told the class about him, how his rocket had gone all the way up into space and came back down to earth with him inside, safe and alive. She had called it a miracle. Teresa wondered now if he saw her drawing, would he think it was exactly like the real thing? She and Sarah had talked about it and they just couldn’t imagine seeing real stars in the shape of a scorpion or a bird. They were the only ones to get A’s on their drawings and they were the last ones to take them home because Mrs. Davis had displayed them on the classroom wall for Open House.

Teresa had asked Mama and Papa to go, but they said they couldn’t, they’d just wait till she brought it home to see it. Angela told her not to be too disappointed, they had never gone to any of her Open Houses, so they probably wouldn’t ever go to any of Teresa’s or Rosie’s, either. When Teresa asked why not, Angela just said that they felt uncomfortable. Uncomfortable? Teresa didn’t understand. Angela explained that they were different from everybody else. Teresa didn’t ask any more questions because she wasn’t exactly sure what to ask. She kind of knew what Angela was talking about. She remembered last year in 5th grade, her mother had taken some cookies to her class for Valentine’s Day. Somehow, Mama had seemed different from the other mothers. For one, her dress wasn’t as nice and she wasn’t wearing high heels. Her hair wasn’t fancy, either. Teresa had been thrilled to have her there, though, and she had asked one of her friends what she thought of her mother. The little girl said, Honest? Yeah, Teresa answered expectantly. Her slip shows, the little girl replied, and Teresa had felt a tremendous letdown, replaced with a vague sense of shame that made her feel guilty. Still, she longed to show her school work off to her parents at Open House, up on the wall, so they could see what a good student she was. It wasn’t the same, bringing it home folded up and wrinkled, although Mama praised everything like it was the most amazing thing she had ever seen. It made Teresa feel good.

Chapter 2

She ran down the hall and handed it to Mama, then knelt down in front of her, folding her arms on Mama’s knees. She looked at it for a moment while Teresa studied her face. Papa said she was named just right -- her name was Linda, which means lovely in Spanish -- and he said she was just that, linda. Her face was smooth, even though she was old. Teresa heard her tell a lady once that she was 17 years old when Angela was born. Angela was 15 now, so that made Mama over 30. But she was pretty, just like Angela. They both had light tan skin (Teresa’s color was two shades darker, like Papa’s) and dark brown hair that they put up in pin curls every night. People often thought they were sisters. Mama lowered the paper down to her lap and looked at Teresa. "It’s beautiful, Mija, look at that big ol’ A," she smiled.

Teresa grinned, My teacher said mine and Sarah’s were the best and we were the only ones to get A’s. She turned and flopped on the floor on her stomach in front of the TV.

Teresa, sit back from the television, how many times do you have to be told?

Teresa scooted back a few inches without taking her eyes off the screen.

Before the cartoons started, a familiar commercial came on the television. A boy, sitting in a chair in a dark, empty room, and a man standing before him, talking to him in monotone, saying things Teresa couldn’t understand. Then a voice out of nowhere says, Don’t believe the lies. Americans will never accept the evils of communism. While the man continues talking, the boy rises from the chair and walks away. Americans will not believe the lies, the voice says, and the man, now standing before the empty chair, fades away. This commercial, and others like it, would show up throughout the day and evening, all warning against the threat of communism. Teresa thought about a discussion at school a few days before when one of the students asked her teacher if it was true the Russians were coming. Mrs. Davis looked thoughtful and slowly acknowledged that it could happen.

The Russians will try to invade us, she said, but our government will protect us.

Teresa felt very secure in the government’s ability to protect them from the terrible Russians. She didn’t know what communism was, but everybody was afraid of it, so she was, too. Papa told her not to worry, President Kennedy would never let the communists into the country. But, even if they did come, she resolved, she would do like the boy in the commercial and refuse to listen to them.

A Bugs Bunny cartoon came on, and pretty soon, Rosie tottered over and climbed onto Teresa’s back. Mrs. Moreno looked at her two youngest daughters quietly watching cartoons, chubby 15-month-old Rosie sitting astraddle skinny 12-year-old Teresa’s back.

When the cartoons were over, Teresa rolled over slowly, making Rosie giggle as she slid off, landing on her back on the floor. Teresa glanced over and was surprised to see that Mama’s chair was empty. She never even heard her get up and leave. She got up and went into the kitchen where Angela was making supper, the baby tottering along behind her. She was briefly struck by how funny her big sister looked in a long apron over her shorts and her hair haphazardly pulled back with a scarf.

Where’s Mama?

Angela turned from the stove and gestured with her chin toward the bedrooms. She went to lie down. Make some Kool-aid, Terrie.

I was gonna ride my bike.

Angela shook her head, I need you to make the Kool-Aid and watch the baby while I finish making supper. She wiped her forehead with her arm, it was so hot in the kitchen.

Teresa sighed impatiently and stomped her foot as softly as possible. Angie, I want to ride my bike!

Terrie, do what I tell you or I’ll tell Papa! And stop acting like a baby, leave that to Rosalinda.

Shut up! Teresa jerked open a cabinet drawer and took out a packet of Kool-Aid, slamming it shut again.

"Keep it up, Mensa, Angela warned, glancing at the kitchen door. Teresa’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes followed Angela’s, fully expecting to see Mama standing there. A wave of relief washed over her at the sight of the empty door. Wake Mama up, then see what happens."

Shut up, Teresa repeated, this time more quietly. She turned to reach for the pitcher and stumbled over Rosie. The baby’s sudden scream startled Angela, making her drop the spoon she was turning the potatoes with. Rosie’s crying and the clattering spoon echoed in Teresa’s head, but still could not drown out the dreaded voice from the other room.

Dammit, Angela, what’s going on?

"Nada, Mama, Angela called back. She shot Teresa an angry look and bent down to pick Rosie up. You’ve done it now, Stupid!"

Suddenly, another pair of arms whisked the baby up and out of her reach. She looked up and sighed deeply at the sight of Papa swinging the baby over his head. Rosie stopped crying and gurgled joyfully, as she always did whenever she was around her daddy. Angela, too, felt her mood lift at the sight of him. Just his presence made her feel that everything was alright.

How are my girls? Papa called loudly, resting Rosie on his arm. He winked at them and disappeared down the hallway, toward his and Mama’s bedroom. Knowing they had dodged a bullet, and visibly overwhelmed by the fact, the two girls resumed their work in silence. As Angela refried the beans and Teresa set the table, they could hear the laughter in the other room: Rosie’s childish shrieks, Papa’s rich rumbling laugh, and Mama’s quiet chuckles. Although they didn’t say anything, Angela and Teresa shared a sense of well-being at the sound of their parents laughing together; it didn’t happen often enough.

Later, gathered around the table, amid the clinks of silverware against china and ice against glass, the family talked about their day. After he was done scolding both Mama and Angela about the house cleaning incident, Papa turned his attention to Teresa.

How’s my little Roadrunner? he asked, his favorite nickname for her, referring to her long, skinny legs.

Fine, she replied, we got another shot today.

Did you cry?

No, she wrinkled her nose and looked down at her plate. Oscar Moreno watched his daughter pushing the food around on her plate. She glanced up and met his eyes. She had such an unwavering gaze, her big brown eyes fathomless, never giving away whatever she might be thinking. He loved his three daughters very much, but for some reason his middle daughter held a special place in his heart. Maybe it was because from the time she could walk, she followed him everywhere. While Angela was Linda’s helper, Teresa was his. If he was working on a car, Teresa was there, handing him the tools he needed. If he was mowing the lawn, she was there, trimming the edges.

Maybe it was because Linda seemed to be stricter with Teresa than with Angela. There was no doubt in Oscar’s mind that the fact that Teresa looked like him, while Angela looked like her, had a lot to do with it. Still, Linda punished Teresa for things she had let Angela get by with at her age. Maybe it was because Angela was very easy going and never argued with her mother, whereas, Teresa had trouble keeping her mouth shut when she was in trouble. It had gotten her slapped in the face several times, resulting in arguments between him and Linda. Oscar had no doubt that an incident that happened with Angela when she was little had a lot to do with Linda being easier on her than on Teresa.

When Angela was born, Oscar looked down on his baby girl asleep in her bassinet and asked two things of his wife: one, that she take as good care of their daughter as his mother did of him, and two, that she never hit her anywhere except on her bottom. He remembered his mother throwing hairbrushes and shoes at her children and hitting them randomly with whatever she could grab in her anger. He didn’t want that for his child and Linda agreed. It wasn’t long, though, before he began seeing welts and bruises on Angela’s little body. When he asked Linda about them, she’d say Angela rolled off the bed or slipped out of her hands while bathing her. He’d get angry and tell her to be more careful and she’d promise she would.

One day, when Angela was 3 years old, he came home to find her lying face down on her bed, moaning in her sleep, and Linda nowhere to be found. He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on her back. As soon as he did, she arched her back and screamed. He jerked his hand back and gently picked her up as she cried the heart-rending cry of a child in pain.

"What’s the matter, Mija? he demanded as he turned her over and pulled up her shirt. He sucked in his breath and tears sprang to his eyes at the sight of the little back filled with bright red welts in the clear pattern of a plastic flyswatter, the skin broken in several areas. Dios mio!" he whispered, turning her around and holding her close to his heart. Her little arms went around his neck and her crying gradually subsided as he rocked her, tears streaming down his face. When her sobs finally became deep, shuddering sighs, he laid her face down on the bed and went to get salve for her back. Moaning sobs were all the sounds she made as he gingerly applied the salve to her wounds, she was too tired to really cry out. Finally, he pulled her shirt down and kissed her cheek.

Knowing she was falling asleep, he walked out of the room into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. He felt no anger at that time, only a tremendous ache in his heart for his little girl’s pain. He dried his face, but his eyes still felt wet.

As he started to go back into the bedroom to check on Angela, a slight movement in the living room caught his eye. He didn’t turn to look at his wife as he walked back into the child’s bedroom and closed the door.

He stayed with her all night. She woke up screaming once and he was right there to hold her and rock her back to sleep. Morning found him asleep across the foot of the bed, and her on her stomach next to him. He opened his eyes and looked into hers. He smiled and kissed her.

How’s my baby?

Hurt, Papa, she whimpered.

"I know, Mija, he pulled up her shirt and felt a chill go down his spine at the sight of her back. Jesus, she’s gonna be all scarred up, he thought. Here, let Papa put some more medicine on it." She made no sound this time as he gently spread salve all over her back, and as he did so, he could feel his anger rising up.

Damn her, he thought as he changed Angela’s shirt, damn her! By the time he left the room he was gritting his teeth and his fists were clenched. Linda was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Her head jerked up when he walked in. The fear in her eyes only fueled his fury. Instantly he was in front of her, his hands on her shoulders.

What did you do to the baby? he demanded, shaking her. She started crying as soon as he touched her.

What are you crying about? he yelled at her, gripping her arms so tight she cried out. What are you crying about? You’re not hurt! Go in there and look at Angela! She’s hurt! You want to cry like her? You want to hurt like her?

Before he realized what he was doing, his hand swung around and he struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand. The sound of the slap and the look of fear and pain on Linda’s face as she stumbled backward shocked him, but as he reached out to steady her, he caught her by her hair. He pulled it, jerking her head in the direction of his hand. She was crying and pleading with him, but the only thing he was aware of was the intense feeling of power and anger that had come over him.

Dimly, he heard another cry and Linda’s words gradually broke through the roar in his head, "La nina, Oscar, la nina!" He turned, still holding onto Linda’s hair, and saw Angela standing at the kitchen door, screaming in terror. He let go of Linda and was vaguely aware of her falling as he rushed to Angela. He swooped her up and turned to Linda, who was slumped on the floor, her head in her hands.

I’m taking her to my mother! I don’t want you to go over there till I get home, you understand? I’m gonna tell Ma not to let you in till I get home!

Linda didn’t look up, her face was hidden by her hands and her sobs shook her whole body. Oscar didn’t think she heard him, but he didn’t care. He walked into the living room and picked up his keys, calling over his shoulder, I’m gonna tell her not to let you in, so don’t even go over there! He slammed the front door behind him. Although the baby was still crying, he could hear Linda’s sobs through the closed door.

Oscar could still remember his mother’s surprise at seeing him walk into her house that early in the morning and then her reaction upon seeing the baby’s back.

"Dios mio, what happened to my little angelito?"

Linda, Ma.

Linda? But wha—

With a flyswatter. I want you to keep Angie till I get home, ok? I told Linda not to come for her, but if she does, don’t let her take her, okay?

But—

Please, Ma, I have to go to work. I’ll come straight from work for her. Please.

Mrs. Moreno reached for the baby. "Of course, don’t be late for work. Angelita will be fine with me, won’t you, Carino? She gently pried the baby’s arms from around his neck, You come with your grandma and let your papa go to work."

When Oscar returned that evening, his mother had supper ready for him. As he ate, she talked to him about Linda. She explained to him how sometimes a crying baby can so frustrate a mother that she may lose control momentarily. She asked him why Linda had hit the child and Oscar admitted that he didn’t know, but whatever Angela did, she couldn’t have deserved being beaten like that. Mrs. Moreno nodded her head solemnly, her eyes on his face.

"When you go home, Hijo, give Linda a chance to tell you what happened. She raised her hand as he started to protest, I know she can’t excuse what she did, but let her tell you about it. She needs to tell you, okay?"

She reached out and cupped his chin in her palm, forcing him to look at her. If you don’t listen, if you make her keep it inside, it could happen again. She dropped her hand and raised her eyebrows, Let her tell you about it, hmm?

He stared at the lace pattern on the tablecloth for a moment, considering her words. If it ever happened again, he didn’t know what he would do. He looked up at his mother, his thought clearly readable in his eyes. She shook her head and he sighed, Okay, Ma, if Linda wants to explain, I’ll listen. But nothing she can say will make me forgive her. Mrs. Moreno smiled and patted his arm as she got up from the table.

"I’ll go get Angelita now. Let her eat supper before you go, she’s been asleep."

Oscar was happy to wait, he wasn’t anxious to go home. He wasn’t sure he was sufficiently recovered to face his wife yet. As it turned out, he didn’t have to worry. As soon as he drove up, Linda came out of the house. She stood on the front step while Oscar helped Angela out of the car. They walked up to the step hand in hand. When they reached Linda, in the beautiful innocence of a child, Angela smiled and said, Hi, Mama, I was at Grandma’s.

Linda hesitated, glancing warily at Oscar, then dropped down and hugged her little girl. A lump came to his throat when Linda whispered, I love you, baby, in Angela’s ear, then his eyes filled with tears when she started repeating, I’m so sorry, over and over. With Angela’s little arms around her neck, she repeated those words until Oscar finally reached down and gently pulled her up. Her tear-streaked face broke his heart as she kept repeating those words to him now. He held her and stroked her hair until she stopped sobbing, then walked her into the house. He looked back for Angela, who had sat down on the step and was studying her shoes.

"Come on, Mija," he called. Linda straightened up and held out her hand, waiting for the little girl to get up and take it.

That night, they lay in bed and talked through the night. Oscar was blunt, he told Linda he didn’t think he could forgive her for what she did, but he wanted to know why. Linda drew a shuddering breath and admitted that what she did frightened her. She said she was baking a cake and had it on the table ready for the icing. Angela was standing on a chair watching her. When she turned to get a bowl to mix the icing, Angela reached over and dug her hand into the cake.

When I turned back around, she said, Angie was looking at me with cake all over her hands and face. She paused. I don’t know, she began hesitantly, I just got so mad I pulled her off the chair and spanked her and put her in her room. I went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess and just kept getting madder and madder. Oscar asked why she hit her again.

I went in to get her and give her a bath, Linda continued, and she had smeared cake all over the bedspread. She turned to look at Oscar in the dimness. I don’t remember starting to hit her again, she said, I just remember that I couldn’t stop. A sob caught in her throat. A voice kept telling me to stop, but I couldn’t.

Not even her screams made you stop? Oscar asked angrily.

There was a ringing in my head, Linda said. She got very quiet. When my father would whip us with his belt, my mother would yell at him and it was like he didn’t hear her. She would have to go and grab the belt from his hand. One time he turned and whipped her across her arms with it before she could grab it. Oscar closed his eyes. Now I know that he couldn’t stop, Linda continued, now I know why he hit us that way.

Oscar sat up and looked down at her. Well, one thing I know, he said sternly, is that you had better not ever hit my baby that way again. Linda stared up at him wordlessly. If you ever do, he threatened, it will be me who gives you the belt. I promise you that. Without a word, Linda turned over and Oscar lay back down on his back. For a long time he stared at the ceiling, listening to her sniffles until he finally fell asleep. In the morning she promised him she would never hit Angela like that again.

And she didn’t, although she lost her temper with the girls, mainly Teresa, and spanked them often. As a result, the girls, even little Rosie, were afraid of her. They looked to their father for protection and reassurance, and he dedicated himself to giving it to them. As much as he loved his wife, he had fleeting flashes of anger whenever he saw the fear in one of his daughters’ eyes if she broke or lost something. It was something he would never get used to.

He smiled now across the table at Teresa, That’s my brave girl. She smiled back at him and put her fork down.

Can I go ride my bike for a while? I think Sarah’s waiting for me.

Linda looked quickly at Oscar, If she goes out now, Angela will have to wash dishes by herself.

She can go ahead, Angela also looked at Oscar, she just gets in my way, anyway. She looked at Teresa and made a face at her. Teresa jumped up from the table and ran outside, calling, Thanks, Angie! on her way out.

Oscar laughed and Linda just shook her head. That girl is such a tomboy. She’s never going to be a woman of the house.

As Teresa ran alongside her bike, ready to jump on, she scanned the neighborhood for Sarah. She couldn’t see her, so she must’ve gotten tired of waiting for her. Teresa envied Sarah sometimes -- well, most of the time -- her mother let her do anything she wanted. If Sarah didn’t want to eat what her mother made, her mother would just sigh and ask, Do you want something else? What do you want? What really shocked Teresa was the way Sarah yelled at her mother when she got angry. Her mother would only say, Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, young lady! Teresa could not in a million years imagine talking to her mother that way. It amazed her. Angie said it was because Sarah was spoiled. Besides, she added, they’re white and white people are different. Teresa could certainly see that. Only, it didn’t seem to her that Sarah was so different from her. She talked and laughed at the same things Teresa did. And she loved to come into the house and watch cartoons with Teresa, eating tortillas with grape jelly.

Teresa pedaled her bike faster and faster, heading for the empty lots behind the house. There were three lots separated by dirt roads, and Teresa loved to ride her bike on those roads, unencumbered by traffic or people. She rode along, feeling free and happy, singing the new song they learned in school today.

From the halls of Montezuma… This week they had been learning all the military songs. Yesterday they learned The Battle Hymn of The Republic. She liked this one better, though. She wasn’t sure what Montezuma and Tripoli were, but she liked singing it while riding her bike as fast as possible, her ponytail swinging in the wind. After a little while, she was glad Sarah hadn’t been out there. She loved being by herself with her thoughts and her songs.

Chapter 3

Teresa was sitting on the living room floor at Sarah‘s house, watching a Gene Autry movie and eating toast and jam. Sarah walked in carrying two glasses of milk.

After this you want to help me wash the dishes? she asked.

Sure, Teresa answered, taking one of the glasses. What time will your mom be back?

Not for a while. She‘s gonna take grandma shopping, Sarah said, sitting on the floor next to Teresa. But she wants the kitchen clean before she comes home. Then we can go out and ride our bikes.

Okay, Teresa agreed, turning her attention back to the television. She liked coming over on Saturdays. It was always quiet. If Sarah’s mother left, she always took the baby with her and her older sister always slept late, not getting up till almost noon. Teresa didn’t like Sarah’s sister, Brenda, she was not very friendly. She always ignored Teresa and talked to Sarah like she was angry with her all the time.

After the movie, they took their dishes to the kitchen. Wash or dry? Sarah asked. Dry, Teresa replied. Sarah wrinkled her nose. She hated washing. Oh well.

While they were washing the dishes, Brenda walked into the kitchen in her pink baby doll pajamas. She was barefoot and Teresa noticed the red polish on her toes. Angela wasn’t allowed to wear polish. Brenda glanced at Teresa and, opening the refrigerator door, said to Sarah, Pretty early for company.

It’s almost 11. Mom said she could come over.

Brenda took out the pitcher of milk and closed the refrigerator door. Teresa watched her out of the corner of her eye as she poured herself a glass, put the milk back, and left the kitchen without a word. She was the same age as Angie, and with her short blond hair and blue eyes, she was almost as pretty. Angie was prettier because she smiled. Teresa couldn’t remember if she had ever seen Brenda smile. She was convinced it was because Brenda didn’t like her. Sara said no, she was just always in a bad mood. At least Angie was nice to Sarah.

When they finished, they went outside to ride their bikes. The school year was over, they had both passed to the 7th grade, which meant junior high school in the fall. The school was across town and they would have to take the bus, a fact that scared them both.

Sarah wondered if they would have boyfriends. Teresa knew she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be allowed to date until she was 15. But there was a boy in school that she liked, and she knew he liked her, too, although he never said it. He was in her class and sat two rows over from her. Once in a while they were paired for a class project and he was very nice to her, but they didn’t really talk a lot. One day a couple of months ago, he bought 2 cartons of milk from the milk cart and handed one to Teresa. She looked at him shyly and he pushed it toward her, smiling but not saying anything. She accepted it and said thank you. He said you’re welcome and went to his desk without another word. She could feel his eyes on her as she sat down at hers.

A lot of times after that she could feel him looking at her. Sometimes she would look at him and if he turned, she dropped her eyes. She would steal a glance and see him smiling.

Tommy Johnson asked me if we were going to Central next year, Sarah said. He said he might not, they might be moving away over the summer. Teresa felt a stab of disappointment.

When did he tell you that?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

Yesterday, when we were in line for our report cards. Sarah looked closely at Teresa, He said he was going to miss you. Teresa blushed and turned away.

He’s pretty cute, isn’t he? Sarah persisted. Yeah, Teresa murmured without looking at her.

He gave me a note to give to you. Teresa’s head spun around. For me?

Sara pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. Did you read it, Teresa asked.

No, he taped it.

Teresa took it and stuffed it in the pocket of her shorts. Aren’t you going to read it? Sarah asked. Later, Teresa said, her heart pounding. She didn’t want to read it with Sarah watching her. She had been a little sad yesterday, the last day of school, knowing that she wouldn’t see him again until September. Now, she might not see him ever again. All the while she and Sarah were riding their bikes, the note was on her mind. All she wanted to do was go somewhere alone and read it. It was with relief that she finally heard mama calling her to come home.

Bye, Sarah, she called as she turned her bike around, maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.

I don’t think so, Sarah replied, after church we’re going to my Aunt Jen’s house, so we‘ll be home late.

Ok, see ya, Teresa pedaled faster because mama’s calls were becoming more insistent. Coming, Mama!

Teresa, I’ve told you more than once that you come the first time I call you, Mama greeted her sternly at the door, go and wash your hands so you can eat.

In the bathroom she hurriedly unfolded the note. All it had was the initials T.J + T.M. inside a heart. That was all. It was enough to make Teresa’s heart soar. She smoothed the paper out on the vanity, tracing the heart with her finger, imagining him drawing it.

Teresa!

She hurriedly refolded the note and stuffed it in her pocket. Heart pounding, she slid into her chair at the table. Pretending everything was normal was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She couldn’t look at Angie, she was afraid she’d give herself away. Later, in bed, she lay awake, thinking about Tommy. Would she ever see him again? Feeling for the note under her pillow, pressing it to her cheek, she realized it was his goodbye, letting her know that he had liked her as much as she liked him. She felt so sad.

The summer flew by, she and Sarah spending almost every day together. One day, they came to the realization that school was almost here. Mama is taking me and Angie school shopping tomorrow, Teresa said, as they played jacks on the front porch.

Yea, we went to get my supplies, Sarah replied. Gosh, there is so much more stuff we need for junior high than we did in elementary.

Teresa sighed. When they went to get her registered, Mama looked at the list and commented on how long it was. Papa just said it would be okay. Teresa didn’t pay much attention because she was awestruck with the school. It was so big, 2 floors, with stairs! She would never find her class! Then, when she got her schedule, she saw that she wouldn’t have one class, she’d have a different one for practically every subject! Worse yet, when she and Sarah compared their schedules, they didn’t have a single class together. It was going to be a horrible year. They both decided they already hated junior high school.

I’m gonna get my hair cut, too, Teresa said.

How short? Sarah asked.

I don’t know, Teresa answered, all I know is Mama wants to get it cut.

Teresa sat in the chair watching the beautician in the mirror as she adjusted the plastic cape around her neck. She glanced at her mother and sisters, smiling expectantly at her. Angela was beaming. Her mother was a little frazzled, this was the third beauty shop they had come to. The beauticians at the two previous ones had declined to cut Teresa’s hair, exclaiming, It’s too beautiful! as they caressed her waist-length tresses. Please think it over some more and come back tomorrow, the second one had pleaded, then if you still want me to, I’ll cut it. I just can’t believe you want it cut!

By that time, Angela was panicked, afraid her mother would change her mind. But Linda had become angry. How dare they? It was her business if she wanted her daughter’s hair cut, not theirs. Who were they to tell her no? So she vowed to find a beauty shop that would cut Teresa’s hair without a fuss. And here they were. The beautician had blinked hard when Linda indicated how short she wanted Teresa’s hair cut, but then she smiled and motioned her to the chair.

Okay, honey, she smiled as she pumped the chair higher and swung her around so her back was to the mirror, are you ready? Teresa nodded, looking at Angela, who nodded back. The beautician looked at Linda and raised her eyebrows dramatically, Ready?

Linda smiled back, Yes.

The beautician swung Teresa around again and sectioned off a strand of hair at the crown. She paused with the scissors poised, looking at Linda through the mirror, Yes? Teresa’s heart was in her throat as she watched her mother take in a deep breath and nod purposefully. Yes. The snip of the scissors gave a Teresa a little chill, and as the long strand fell to the floor, a little Oh! escaped from Angela. In that instant, it occurred to her that she would never again brush that hair into a ponytail, never again marvel at the silkiness of it as it fell loose when Teresa pulled the rubber band out of it.

Her mother came over and picked up the strand, putting it in the envelope she had brought with her for just that reason. Later she would put it in the cedar chest where she kept all the family mementos. Teresa loved that chest. When she opened it, the woody aroma of cedar hit her and she would breathe it in deeply. Then she would shut it again. She was not allowed to take anything out, not even to look at it. Her mother promised her that one day she would go through it with her and tell her all about every article in there. In the meantime, Teresa would smell the cedar and run her hands over the polished wood, marveling at how smooth it was.

As the hair began falling on the floor, Rosie giggled at how funny Teresa looked with some hair short and some hair long. Teresa was seized with fear that they had made a big mistake. What if it didn’t look good? What if she looked ugly with short hair? What if this lady didn’t cut it right?

The beautician, seeing the tension on the girl’s face, swung her around so her back was to the mirror again. She began talking to her, asking her questions and involving the others in the conversation. This relaxed everybody and relieved Teresa’s fear. Before she knew it, the beautician was removing the cape and dusting her shoulders with powder. Teresa looked at the floor covered with her hair and then searched her family’s faces for indications of how she looked. Her mother was smiling and nodding and Angela was beaming again. Rosie was still giggling, saying, Terrie’s hair gone!

The beautician stepped back to look at her and asked if she was ready to see it. Teresa nodded and the beautician swung her around. She gasped at the sight in the mirror. She almost couldn’t recognize herself, she looked so different. Her hair reached the middle of her neck and curved under, coming to chin-length at the sides. Her bangs were still there, but even they took on a new look with the new shape of her hair. She shook her head slightly and was surprised at how free and easy it swung! She reached