We kept this up for a week. Then the chief warden, Little Razor, went from cell to cell, announcing the new regulations, no more hymn singing, no more crucifixes. Especially after this second pastoral Santicló told us about, Trujillo was sure the priests were out to get him. Our crucifix wearing and praying was a plot.
A sorry-looking Santicló and a not so sorry-looking Tiny and Bloody Juan came in with four other guards to confiscate our crucifixes. When I handed Santicló my little gold one from my First Communion I’d always worn, he gave me a quick wink and slipped it in his pocket. He was going to save mine for me. Gold crucifixes were bound to get “lost” in Little Razor’s safekeeping.
Everyone complied except for Minerva and Sina. They managed to get Sina’s off her because all she did was stand real straight with her chin up.
But when they grabbed Minerva, she started kicking and swinging her arms.
Santicló’s cap flew across the room and Tiny was smacked in the face.
Bloody Juan got a bloody nose when he tried to intervene.
Where does that sister of mine get her crazy courage?
As she was being marched down the hall, a voice from one of the cells they passed called out, Mariposa does not belong to herself alone. She belongs to Quisqueya! Then everyone was beating on the bars, calling out, iViva la Mariposa! Tears came to my eyes. Something big and powerful spread its wings inside me.
Courage, I told myself. And this time, I felt it.
[pages torn out]
Thursday, April 7 (77 days)
Today, at long last, I got to see Mama and Patria, and Pedrito—at a distance. Jaimito and Dedé didn’t come up because we’re only allowed one visitor. But Santicló let Patria sit at my table after prisoner # 49 was taken back. That’s what Pedrito’s called. And something I didn’t know till today, I’m # 307.
Mama was so upset about Minerva being in solitary, I decided not to bring up the way I’ve been feeling and worry her even more. Besides, I didn’t want to take up time I could be hearing about my precious. She’s got two new teeth, and has learned to say, Free Mama, Free Papá, every time she passes Trujillo’s picture in the entryway.
Then Patria gave me the best news so far—Nelson is free! He was offered and accepted a pardon. Ay, how it made me wish all over again we hadn’t turned ours down.
As for Leandro. He and some of the others are still being held in La 40.
I’m so relieved just to know he’s alive. Patria heard from Pena up in Salcedo about Leandro being pressured to do some job for Trujillo. They sure picked the wrong guy. My gentle Palomino has the iron will of a stallion.
Mama said she’s going to bring Jacqueline next week. Not inside for a visit, of course. It’s not allowed. But Jaimito can park on the road, and I can take a peek out my window—
How can Mama tell our window looks out on the road? I asked her.
Mama laughed. There’s a certain black flag flown from a certain window.
How ingenious of Mama! I always wondered why she sent me my good towel.
Friday, April 8 (78 days)
Magdalena and I had a long talk about the real connection between people. Is it our religion, the color of our skin, the money in our pockets?
We were discussing away, and all of a sudden, the girls started congregating, one by one, including the two new ones who have replaced Miriam and Dulce, everybody contributing their ideas. And it wasn’t just the usual, Sina and Asela and Violeta and Delia, the educated women, talking. Even Balbina knew something was up and came and sat right in
front of me so she could watch my mouth. I spoke real slow for her to understand that we were talking about love, love among us women.
There is something deeper. Sometimes I really feel it in here, especially late at night, a current going among us, like an invisible needle stitching us together into the glorious, free nation we are becoming.
Saturday, April 9 (79 days)
I am very low. The rain doesn’t help. The days drag on.
This morning, I woke up with the thought, Jacqui has to get some new shoes! And that’s been going around and around in my head all day. The old ones are probably pinching her toes and she’ll learn to walk pigeon-toed, and then we’ll have to get her some corrective braces, on and on and on.
You get a thought in your head in this crazy place and it looms so big.
But let it be her shoes I worry about instead of the other thing tugging at my mind now all the time.
Sunday, April 10 (80 days)
I’ve got a big worry, and Minerva isn’t here for me to talk to.
I go back and calculate. Leandro and I were trying like crazy in December and January. I wanted another one soon, since I’ve enjoyed having my Jacqui so much. Also, I admit, I wanted an excuse to stay home.
Like Dedé, I just didn’t have the nerves for revolution, but unlike her, I didn’t have the excuse of a bossy husband. Not that my Leandro wouldn’t have preferred for me to be just his wife and his little girl’s mother. More than once he said one revolutionary in the family was enough.
I missed January, then February, and now most definitely March. I know almost everyone here has stopped menstruating. Delia says stress can do this to a woman; she’s seen it before in her practice. Still, this queasiness is all too familiar.
If I am and the SIM find out, they’ll make me carry it to full term, then give it to some childless general’s wife like the story Magdalena told me.
That would kill me.
So, if there really is no chance I’ll be out soon, then I want to release this poor creature from the life it might be born to.
The girls all know home remedies, since most of them have had to get rid of unwanted side effects of their profession. And Delia is a woman doctor, so she can help, too.
I’m giving it till Minerva gets back to decide.
Not sure what day it is
Still very weak, but the bleeding has stopped.
I can’t bear to tell the story yet.
Just this—I’ve either bled a baby or had a period. And no one had to do a thing about it after the SIM got to me.
Another day
Magdalena has been nursing me. She feeds me broth with crunched-up saltines Santicló brings me. She says he’s smuggled in a little gift every day.
Today, it was this blue ribbon she used to tie my braid and a little packet of honeyballs.
Balbina has also been so sweet. She rubs my feet, and the way she kneads the soles and pats the heels, it’s like she’s talking to me with her touching. Saying, Get well, get well, get well.
And I wiggle my toes back and smile wanly at her, I will, I will, I hope I will.