I started unpacking, and what a surprise to find my diary among my things! Then I remembered Chucha scooping it up and stuffing it in my laundry bag.
Ay, how I miss Chucha!
June 13, 1961, Tuesday evening
Tío Pepe says he drove by the compound today and the whole place was crawling with SIM. He heard through Radio Bemba, which is how people are referring to gossip, Radio Big Mouth, that the compound is now a SIM interrogation center. It makes me sick just to think what might be happening in my old bedroom.
What about Chucha? I asked. The thought of anything happening to Chucha . . .
Chucha is fine! Tío Pepe assured me. It seems that the day after he evacuated us, Chucha also left the compound. She wandered into town on foot, to Wimpy’s, and has gotten a job there sweeping out the aisles, which is near impossible to believe. But Wimpy is one of Tío Pepe’s contacts, so maybe Chucha feels that by being there, she is close to us. Who can tell?
Just the thought of Chucha at Wimpy’s makes me smile.
June 14, 1961, Wednesday morning, after breakfast
Poor Tía Mari has to think of meals on top of everything else!
For breakfast, she always fixes Tío Pepe’s tray first thing, before the cook is up, and carries it to their bedroom. So that meal is never a problem. Tía Mari just brings some extra waterbreads and marmalade and cheese and a pot of coffee and one of milk, and fresh fruits. She locks the door, and Mami and I slip out of the closet and eat breakfast, taking turns drinking out of one cup while Tía Mari and Tío Pepe share the other one.
As for supper, Tía Mari and Tío Pepe used to eat out in the dining room, but now, with the excuse that they want to listen to the news quietly in their bedroom, they bring their trays in here and we all eat off the two plates.
The problem is the big midday meal, as the family always eats together in the formal dining room. So what Tía Mari does is hide a plastic bag under her napkin on her lap, and she serves herself lots of food and eats slowly so that the little girls and María de los Santos and Oscar are excused long before she is done, and then quick, she scrapes her plate into the bag for us. It’s not the most appetizing meal, a bag of mixed-up food, but when I think—which I don’t want to—of what Papi and Tío Toni and the other prisoners are eating, I feel grateful and make myself eat so Tía Mari doesn’t have to worry about getting rid of leftovers. (Mojo and Maja can only eat so much.)
Tío Pepe likes to tease Tía Mari that she has gotten so good with that plastic bag, if she ever needs a job, the SIM would surely hire her!
June 15, 1961, Thursday evening, already two weeks in hiding!!!
Earlier this afternoon, I was in the bathroom writing and I heard the three little Marías playing out in the yard. I felt such envy for them, enjoying the warm sun on their skin and the blue sky above.
Then I started thinking how Papi and Tío Toni might not even have a glimpse of sky and fresh air or a bite of food and all my positive thinking went out the window. I stroked my cheek, but that didn’t help, either. I burst into tears. So much for the girl who never cried.
Mami caught me crying and began scolding, what is the matter with you, Anita, you’re going to have to make an effort, please, you’re too old for this.
Which made me cry even more.
Tía Mari pulled me into the bathroom and shut the door and whispered, Anita, you have to understand that your mother is under tremendous pressure, tremendous pressure, and so take that into account, and just keep writing, don’t stop. Stay calm. Pray to La Virgencita.
My brave and beautiful niece, she added, hugging me.
June 16, 1961, Friday, after supper
Believe it or not, we get mail here!
Mundín writes out notes that he gives to the ambassador, who gives them to Tío Pepe, then we answer back by reverse method. It seems so strange that we should be writing back and forth when we’re only a house away! Mundín won’t say where exactly he is hidden in case the note should fall into the wrong hands, but he tells us he is fine, though very worried about Papi and Tío Toni. Today’s note was just to me. I guess from his hiding place, Mundín caught a glimpse of María de los Santos sitting on the gallery with some young fellow, and he wants to know what I know.
I couldn’t believe that Mundín was thinking about a girlfriend at a time like this!
But then . . . I’m thinking a lot about Oscar! As Chucha would say, the hunchback laughing at the camel’s hump!
Tonight at supper, I’ll drop a question about María de los Santos and see if the Mancinis volunteer any news of a boyfriend.
Mojo and Maja are making it hard for me to write—they climb up on my lap and chew at my pen. They look like two little waterfalls of hair, with a pink and a blue ribbon tied in a teensy pigtail on top of their heads.
Stay calm, I say to them. Keep writing, I say to myself.
June 17, 1961, Saturday night
Another scene from the movie of my life in hiding:
SETTING: Girl and mother sitting in bedroom with husband and wife who are hiding them. Radio they have been listening to is turned off.
GIRL: (very innocently) How is María de los Santos?
WIFE: Muy bien, she is fine, gracias to La Virgencita María.
GIRL: Does she have a boyfriend?.
WIFE: (shaking her head) When hasn’t that girl had a boyfriend?
HUSBAND: (looking up from shortwave radio, alarmed) What’s this? I didn’t know you were allowing María de los Santos to have gentlemen callers.
WIFE: (hand on her hip) Allowing her? Who can tell that girl what to do? And where have you been that you didn’t notice? Even the Chinese in Bonao know this.
(Soon, a full-blown disagreement is in progress. Mother and girl slip back into closet, and mother turns on girl.)
MOTHER: Look at what you started, Anita, I hope you’re satisfied, such nice people, after all they have done for us.
(Girl keeps her mouth shut—someone has to keep the peace around here!)
June 18, 1961, Sunday, late afternoon, sunny and bright
My least favorite day . . . but today has been tolerable because Tía Mari invited Mami’s old canasta friends for a Sunday barbecue. Of course, none of them know we are hiding here. But Mami has been so depressed that Tía Mari thought that just seeing her old friends secretly from the window would lift her spirits. It turns out that the whole canasta group are wives of supporters of the plot.
So why aren’t they in hiding, too? I asked Mami.
Their husbands aren’t directly involved, Mami explained. And we’re in the most trouble because El Jefe was found in the trunk of Papi’s Chevy.
Suddenly, it struck me that for a whole night, we were living with a dead body in our garage! It seemed so spooky, as well as dumb. Why would Papi and Tío Toni leave El Jefe’s body lying around where the SIM could find it if they searched us?
The plan was to bring Pupo over to the house, Mami explained some more. Pupo had said he wouldn’t start the revolution until he saw the dead body.
Usually, Mami starts to cry or gets upset with me when I ask her about all this stuff, but today she was the calmest I’ve seen her since we came into hiding. We took turns peeking out the high window in the bathroom, standing on the toilet. Mami reported on everyone she saw, Ay, pero Isa has gotten so thin, and look at Maricusa, she’s cut her hair, y esa Anny is going to have twins.
When it was my turn, my eye was caught by a young man, off by himself, reading. Suddenly, I realized it was Oscar! Maybe it was from not seeing him for several weeks, but he seemed a lot older and very handsome. I kept watching him, every time I had a turn.
I’ve decided that I want to read more myself. I’ve been here almost three weeks now and all I’ve done is page through Tía Mari’s magazines, play cards with Mami, listen to the radio, and write in my diary. Reading would make the time pass and take my mind off gloomy thoughts about what is happening to Papi or Tío Toni or us.
So I asked Tía
Mari if she’d get me a book out of our old classroom.
Which book? she wanted to know.
I shrugged and told her to get me anything she thought I’d like.
June 19, 1961, Monday night
Tonight, Tía Mari said, oh dear, I keep forgetting to get a book for you from the children’s library. Here’s one to start. And she gave me this book about the life of the Virgin Mary.
I tried to read some of it, but it was not very interesting.
Instead, I experimented with some new hairdos in the mirror, wondering what Oscar would think of a young lady with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
June 20, 1961, Tuesday, late night
I talked to Tío Pepe about how I want to read more, and he said it was an excellent idea. He told me all about famous people in prisons and dungeons who did incredible stuff, like this nun way back in colonial times, who I guess wrote tons of poetry in her head, and the Marquis de Sade, who wrote whole novels, and someone else who worked on a dictionary, and another person who came up with some new kind of printing press. It was real inspiring, but not for me. I think I’ll just stick to reading some books and writing in my diary.
Tío Pepe said that one thing all these famous prisoners found while they were locked up was that it was important to keep a schedule so as not to go crazy. Right then, remembering how Charlie Price called me crazy, I decided to draw one up and try to follow it every day.
Anita de la Torre’s Schedule in Hiding:
MORNING:
Wake Up—Slip out so as not to wake Mami and touch my toes (20 times) and do waist exercises (25), plus the ones that Lucinda taught me so my breasts will grow (do 50 of those).
Shower and Dress—Brush my teeth for at least a minute so as not to end up toothless like Chucha, shampoo hair twice a week, and definitely do not spend the whole day in my pajamas or muumuu! Tío Pepe said the Marquis de Sade put on his powdered wig and morning jacket while he was locked up. Also, British lords used to dress in their white linens in the jungle and look at how long they ruled the world. I was going to remind Tío Pepe how El Jefe was real finicky about what he wore, too, and look at what a monster he was . . . but I decided I better keep my mouth shut.
During Breakfast—Try to learn one new thing from Tío Pepe, who must be a genius, as he knows about everything and speaks five languages perfectly.
After Breakfast—read good book (once Tía Mari remembers to bring me one), write in diary, try not to be bored, as Tío Pepe says boredom is a sign of the poverty of the mind—definitely do not want that!!!
NOON:
Lunchtime—Try to keep my stomach from growling before Tía Mari comes back with her hidden lunch bag, try to be nice about the eggplant squashed up with the rice and beans and leftover chicken (always dark meat, my least favorite) because, as Mami says, beggars cannot ask for cebollitas with their mangú. (But I don’t like onions with my mashed plantains!) Most of all, try to be nice to Mami.
AFTERNOON:
Free Time—Write in diary, talk with Mami about happy times in past. Tía Mari says this will really help improve her spirits. Try not to think about the tanks we keep hearing rolling down the street or the gunshots from the direction of the national palace, the dead quiet once curfew sounds at six.
NIGHT:
Eat Dinner—Usually the best meal, as Tío Pepe has to have his pasta once a day, which is my favorite food, too. Tío Pepe says I must have Italian blood in me. And, of course, that gets Mami and Tía Mari started on the Family Tree.
After Dinner—Listen to Radio Swan, try not to think of the sad news, of the 7,000 arrests, of the bodies thrown off cliffs to the sharks, of the army generals in their tanks shooting at neighborhoods where they think people are hiding, and instead . . . think positively! Join in discussions, think positively! Write in diary, look through Tía Mari’s magazines, anything to avoid bad thoughts that might drive me crazy.
Sleep—Lights out around 10 P.M., but I can stay up in the bathroom reading or writing, provided—Mami does love a lecture—that I am very quiet, so as not to bother the Mancinis. Listen politely, try not to roll eyes and make disgusted face at Mami when she gives this lecture every night.
Before Going to Sleep—Think about Tío Toni and Papi on the beach, try not to think of bodies thrown into the sea, think positively, think of the sand and wind in my hair, and Papi saying, Fly, and Tío Toni laughing as they swing me up in the air.
XXXXX
XXXX
(one mark for each day I missed writing in my diary!!!)
June 30, 1961, Friday, bathroom, very hot night
I know, I know, it’s been nine days and I haven’t written a word.
I just couldn’t after the fright we had the night I wrote up my schedule.
What happened was just awful!!! I was getting ready to cross back from the bathroom to the closet to bed when I heard someone moving around in the yard. The night watchman had already made his rounds at 10 P.M. or so, and this was after 11 P.M.
So I woke up Mami, who “never sleeps a wink,” but I always seem to find her fast asleep, and we woke up the Mancinis, who turned Mojo and Maja loose on the gallery, and they scampered off and down the steps into the yard, barking and growling, and then there were gunshots, and Tía Mari was screaming from the gallery, MOJO! MAJA! but no answer, and Tío Pepe was trying to drag her back inside, while also hurrying into his dressing gown as there was now loud knocking downstairs at the front door.
We went into emergency procedure—Mami and I slipped into the bathroom closets and back into the crawl space—one of the boards is loose and it made a terrible Whack!!! sound—scared us half to death! We waited for what must have been 20 minutes but seemed forever. My heart was pounding so loud, I thought surely it could be heard throughout the house, and then, oh my God, I remembered I had left my diary on the back of the toilet when I rushed to the closet to wake up Mami! I didn’t dare sneak out to get it and I didn’t dare tell Mami because she would just die of one of her nerve attacks right then and there.
In a little while, Tío Pepe was back, and we all sat on the floor of the closet, and Tío Pepe told us the story.
The SIM had come to the door to say they had been called by the embassy because there were intruders on the grounds. (A lie!) It turned out the SIM agent in charge recognized Tío Pepe, whose brother-in-law, Dr. Mella, had saved his little daughter’s life after a ruptured appendix. Anyhow, when Tío Pepe invited them inside to search the house, this grateful man said that would be unnecessary. Tío Pepe stood talking to them a little longer at the door and then they left.
Tía Mari quieted while Tío Pepe told the story, but then she started to cry again about Mojo and Maja.
The next morning, the night watchman reported the two dead dogs.
Poor Tía Mari was just crying and crying. Mami and I felt terrible, as it was our fault that this happened. And I felt doubly terrible leaving my diary out in the open! What if the SIM had come in and found it there? I could have cost us our lives on account of my carelessness.
For days, I wasn’t able to write a single word. The third radio was turned off. But then, I started thinking, if I stop now, they’ve really won. They’ve taken away everything, even the story of what is happening to us.
So, tonight, I picked up my pen and, sure enough, I’ve been writing my heart out even if my hand is shaking.
July 1, 1961, Saturday morning
Two resolutions for the new month:
#1: Try to write something every day!
#2: Keep diary hidden at all times!!! At night under my mat, and during the day when we roll up the mats, in the pocket of Tía Mari’s fur coat that she wears when she travels to cold countries. It’s become so much me that finding it would be like finding me. So it’s got to be a diary in hiding.
When I write in it, I feel as if I’ve got a set of wings, and I’m flying over my life and looking down and thinking, Anita, it’s not as bad as you think.
July 2, 1961,
Sunday afternoon
Another dreary Sunday, worrying about Papi. It’s been over a month since I saw him. Sometimes I find myself forgetting what he even looks like, and then I feel bad, like my forgetfulness means he is gone forever.
When I get this way, I don’t care about following my schedule or writing in my diary or daydreaming about Oscar. All I want to do is lie on my mat in the closet. Mami gets upset with me.
Come on, Anita, she scolds. You can’t lie around all day. Who do you think you are, the Queen of Sheba?
Queen of the Walk-in Closet is more like it.
July 3, 1961, Monday night
The little Marías gave us such a scare this afternoon. Tía Mari was out doing grocery shopping at Wimpy’s, and she must have thought she locked up her bedroom door as usual, but she hadn’t. Mami and I were in the walk-in closet, with the door open for some ventilation and light, playing concentration, being quiet but not especially careful, when suddenly we heard the little girls coming into the bedroom.
Mami’s going to be mad, one of them was saying—I couldn’t tell which one.
She is not! said another. She won’t even know.
Then there were sounds of opening drawers, and giggles, and one of them saying, you put on too much. They were at the vanity, trying on the lipsticks and perfumes, which I’ve done in my own mami’s bedroom countless times.
Look what you did! You spilled it.
Then one of them said, Let’s go see Mami’s bear, which is the way they refer to their mother’s fur coat hanging in this closet.
Mami and I froze. Our concentration game was spread out on the floor. We had no time to pick it up or cross over to the bathroom closets, so we just backed in among the clothes.
Suddenly, we heard someone else coming into the room. What are you girls doing? You know you’re not supposed to be in here. It was Oscar! I hadn’t heard his voice in so long. It sounded deeper, more like a man’s voice than a boy’s.
The little girls scrambled off, but curious Oscar stayed on, looking around. Soon the steps came around the corner and into the narrow hall, and then Oscar stepped inside the closet and ran his hand over the hanging suits and dresses, then stopped cold. Something had caught his eye. Very quietly, he backed out of the closet and shut the door.