Friday (I think)
You think you’re going to crack any day, but the strange thing is that every day you surprise yourself by pulling it off, and suddenly you start feeling stronger, like maybe you are going to make it through this hell with some dignity, some courage, and most important—never forget this, Mate— with some love still in your heart for the men who have done this to you.
Saturday, April 16
I’ve got to get a note written to Mama. She must have been worried sick when I didn’t show up Thursday. What a pity I missed seeing my little girl!
But that loss seems small now compared to what has happened.
[pages torn out]
Easter Sunday
Minerva came back this afternoon. They released her five days early on account of Easter. How Christian of them.
We had a little welcome party for her with some of the saltines Santicló had brought me and a hunk of white cheese Delia managed to get by throwing lots of water on the turtle. Miguelito, of course, showed up for the crumbs.
I try to be lighthearted, but it takes such effort. It’s as if I am so deep inside myself, I can’t come to the surface to be with anyone. The easiest to be with is Magdalena. She holds my head in her lap and strokes my
forehead just like Mama.
It’s only her I’ve told what happened.