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Writer's picturemermaidhouse27

Chapter Eight

Exodus



The engineer and his assistant continued their platonic friendship for six months as a

passion blossomed between them. Arthur became a constant at Doña Emilia’s dinner table, even on Sundays when Elena, Carlton and baby Rosita would join them. Arthurs was an uncommonly easy male presence. He showed Emilia respect as the head of her household and never attempted to usurp her but instead supported her in any way she needed. He was handy and didn’t mind hammering a nail or fixing a hole in the tin roof. He graciously held the baby when an extra pair of hands was needed. Arthur Garlinghouse, the head engineer and manager of el Ingenio de Quisqueya became a trusted friend and fixture at Doña Emilia’s house. On one of their many end-of-day visits over their cold Presidénte beers, Arthur finally addressed the obvious, his love for Violeta.

“I have to take a trip to Santo Domingo to take care of some business with the

government. I’d like to take Violeta with me.”

“Oh?” answered Emilia, “How long are you planning to be gone, Arturo?”

“I have a series of meetings over three days. We would be back in five days with the

travel time.”

“Does Violeta want to go?” asked her mother.

“I haven’t asked her yet. I wanted to talk to you first. You know how I feel about Violeta.

I love her very much. I would marry her if I could…”

Emilia’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. “Mmhmm.”

“I love your daughter, Amy.” Pause. “And I want to help you and your family. You have

been very kind to me and you have become a dear friend. I want your blessing, Amy. As much as I love Violeta, I will not ask her to go with me if you do not want me to.”

There it was. She could see how El Señor Galinghow made her daughter’s cheeks glow

and her eyes shine. In fact, everyone in her family seemed to shine in his presence. Sylvina saved the eggs from her favorite chicken for him. Elena always placed the darling Rosita in the safety of his arms, kissing his cheek upon entering the house for her Sunday supper. Elena knew a good man now that she was stuck with Mr. Smith. Doña Emilia didn’t miss any of this and Arthur was pleased. He loved Violeta; there was no doubt. He had also come to love her family. Amy had become a confidant, an important friend for him in a strange land where he was a big fish in a small incomprehensible pond. Amy and Violeta helped him immensely in understanding the world he found himself in; a very different world from the one where he came from. In this world he found love. Warm and earthy love. He couldn’t wait to invite Violeta to go to La Capital with him.

They were driving back to Doña Emilia’s after a long day in the office. She knew he had

to travel to La Capital the following week. While Violeta had feelings for her boss, she was

satisfied with the way things were. Knowing that he was married, she took comfort in his

genuine affections for her but was most gratified by his friendship with her mother. She saw how it buoyed Doña Emilia and she took quiet pleasure in delivering him to her table each evening for their shared cervecita. She enjoyed hearing them laugh together and for this, she had come to care for him deeply. His kindness, his gentility, all foreign to her, made it all the sweeter.

Violeta knew to never expect to love anyone like she loved Prìamo. A love like that could only happen once and she had locked her love for Prìamo deep inside her for fear that that too could be taken away if exposed. Immediately after the pregnancy was discovered, Prìamo had been painfully wrenched away from her by Doña Josefina, his mother, and sent to La Capital to live with her sister. There he lived for two years learning construction under the tutelage of his uncle.

They were almost to the house and Arthur was feeling anxious. “Viola”, as he liked to

call her, “Would you like to go to Santo Domingo with me?”

Silence. Of course, she wanted to go with Don Arturo, but what did that mean? How

would she explain this to Mamíta?

“I’ve already asked Amy for her permission” he said, reading her mind.

“Oh?” Violeta took immediate offense, but then relaxed, realizing it was all taken care of from here on out. She was considering where they would stay and how that would work. Arthur was afraid he was about to be refused. A stain of sweat began to spread under his arms. He pulled the car over and stopped. Then he reached over and softly took her hand. She gazed at him with half closed eyes and she understood. She waited a few moments then she leaned towards him and kissed him lightly, smiled and said “Arthur, I would love to go to Santo Domingo with you.” It was all very clear. She would take this trip to be with Arthur Garlinghouse as man and wife. Arthur reached over and kissed Violeta passionately. She let him and she enjoyed it. This was for her, but it was also for her family.

“You know how much I care for you, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, Arthur.”

“I will do anything for you, Violeta. I want to help your family and I want to give you a

good life, the life you so deserve.”

“Yes Arthur. Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur put the car in drive, and they continued home in silence. A few days later, during

their trip to the capital city, Santo Domingo, Arthur professed his undying love to Violeta by

explaining that he could not marry her, but he would care for her like the queen she would

always be to him. He was madly and passionately in love with the beautifully young Violeta.

Things moved quickly once their conjugal entanglement began. She was impassive but receptive. He was kind and respectful. He treated Violeta delicately, wanting to indulge her every whim for his passions ran strong.

Violeta understood the advantage Mr. Garlinghouse represented for her entire family, so, it was in a spirit of gratitude and naïveté that she accepted the inevitable. Garlinghouse found a large white house on a hill that had a wrap-around porch and enough land around it for chickens and a garden. He offered it to Violeta for her and her mother and sister to move into. Emilia refused, preferring to stay out of the way of their relationship and in the comfort of her tiny tin roof house with the outdoor kitchen, which upset Violeta to no end. She was, after all, doing this for her mother who had encouraged her to let Arthur Garlinghouse sweep her away and provide for her in ways no one else in the entire town of ever could.

Violeta’s loving heart had sunk deep inside her - along with the trauma of the tragic birth - where it would remain buried. This was a transactional relationship. Violeta, now eighteen years old, made up her mind that it was her responsibility to take on the relationship for the sake of her family. She embraced kind Arthur’s love and generosity.

The house was staffed with a cook/ housecleaner and a driver, for the big black car he

placed in the driveway. She no longer went to el ingenio to work with him in the fields. Instead, Violeta spent her days going back and forth between her mother’s house and hers with Sylvina in tow. Elena would come by in the morning with Rosita, now a toddler, and sit at the dining room table that overlooked the front porch and the tall wisteria tree, sipping coffee for hours. Elena was pregnant with her second child and Violeta doted on Rosita, the first grandbaby in the family, who she adored.

Life became a double-edged sword. Violeta had enough money to buy food for her entire family, so she and her help didn’t have to work the land like most of her neighbors for their onions, tomatoes, potatoes carrots, lettuce and beans. Instead, she would send Valéria, her cook out to the weekly mercado to pick up the fresh produce for her home as well as that of Emilia’s and Elena’s. Given her privileged status, she grew roses and herbs instead. Oregano, perejil, tomillo, y mejorana [1] grew fragrantly along the front steps of the house. Gisela, her best friend, would come over every afternoon to listen to la novela, sometimes Elena with Rosita too, and they would arrange themselves on the porch, swinging back and forth on their mesedoras [2] . Violeta would call out for Valeria to bring them un cafecito to sip while they listened to the latest episode. Destilando Amor [3] was a favorite. Every afternoon at two, the young women could be heard giggling at the outrageous life circumstances of the latest novela blaring on the radio, their bare feet pushing their rocking chairs back and forth, dramatic music pulsing in the hot air waves. Once the novela was over, Valeria would pick up the cups and dishes and Violeta’s mind would turn to the evening. She considered it her work. She didn’t mind seeing Arthur regularly. She didn’t mind his sweet lovemaking. What she resented was the ‘show’. Violeta was a very proud woman.

When Mr. Garlinghouse first revealed his affections and favoritism for Violeta at the

factory, it instilled in her a tacit self-confidence, as if a crown had been placed on her head. She felt respected and valued, not just by Arthur but by her co-workers and the community at large. When it came to love and marriage, the island’s culture was informal. It was perfectly acceptable that Mr. Garlinghouse would choose the beautiful Violeta as his mujer [4] when Garlinghouse’s legitimate wife left. No Dominican expected Mr. Garlinghouse to remain single. Once Violeta was elevated and installed in the big white house at the top of a hill and provided for by el patron, she felt exposed. Violeta was a prideful woman and because Mr. Garlinghouse was a married man, he maintained a separate and permanent residence. Now, his arrivals to the white house at the top of the hill at sunset were an announcement of their intimacy in a way that felt vulgar to Violeta. She absolutely hated it but there was nothing she could do about it. Because Arthur loved her, there was plenty of food on the table for three households, their modest needs were met without difficulty, she lived in relative luxury, and she was pregnant.

Through Arthur’s generosity, Violeta provided for her mother and Sylvina as well as

Elena and her children - because of Elena’s husband’s proclivity to take off. For this, Violeta was content. Arthur was kind and they enjoyed stimulating and intellectual conversations apart from the details of the factory. However, when she found herself pregnant, she became conflicted. It was a big price to pay. It seemed reasonable and right to trade her youthful beauty and vitality so that she, her mother and sisters could live comfortably. But she hadn’t bargained to create an image of love with this older man with the graying temples. How could she have a baby with anyone but Prìamo? Violeta fell into a depression. Refusing Arthur’s company for several days, she feigned illness.

Tender memories of Prìamo flooded her being. It had been two years since the mysterious birth and disappearance of Pipíche and almost three years since she had seen Prìamo. The new life inside her was just a flicker but she couldn’t share the news just yet. She had to wait until she could be happy for it. This, she understood, was the beginning of a certain entrapment. It took her a few days to absorb the reality of it, to prepare her tortured heart to accept more of the unacceptable. Arthur Garlinghouse could never marry her and would leave her eventually to return to the states, to his wife and son that waited for him there. She would end up with countless children as she looked after her mother, her sisters and their families. This would be her life now. She was taking the necessary time to accept it and make the best of it: big white house, black car, domestic help, status, relative wealth, jealous neighbors and a gnawing heart.

Time heals but when it doesn’t heal it convinces. Violeta accepted the new reality by

leaning into a pregnancy that, this time, she could protect. She was able to push her lovelorn

melancholy aside and delve into the joy of preparing for new life. This time she had plenty of

help. Doña Emilia was beside herself with delight over the pending arrival of Señor Galinghow’s baby. Almost immediately, she abandoned the pile of work beside her beloved Singer and began sewing baby clothes for the coming príncipe [5] . Psychic Emilia was sure it was a boy. This child would be light skinned, maybe even white, dreamed the calculating Emilia. She secretly prayed it would be so. The currency of whiteness was unspoken but valid. Violeta’s stock had immediately gone up when she caught the eye of white Texan Arthur Garlinghouse. Never mind that in his hometown of Arlington he was a hibaro [6] , a cualquiera [7] who somehow managed to get through college by the skin of his teeth. In the dark-skinned realm of la Republica, Don Garlinghouse, with his gleaming white skin with visible blue veins so sensitive to the sun, might as well have had a gold crown of jewels on his head. In Quisqueya, he was a very important man and, truth be told, he enjoyed the stature. And by association, so did Violeta and for this there was a cost.

Elena was thrilled to have a cousin on the way for her Rosita and her second baby that

was due any day. Three-year-old Rosita had always favored her Tía Violeta and once Elena’s

belly grew to disable her once again, Rosita casually moved into the white house with her Tía

where the radio was always on, and the perfume of roses and herbs wafted in to mingle with the aromas of the day’s meal in the hot afternoon sun. She loved her afternoon siestas best when she could curl up with her Tia [8] under the mosquito net, the buzzing and her Tia’s gentle breathing soothing her to sleep. For Violeta, Rosita was her touchstone. With Rosita keeping her company at the top of the hill, she could remember who she was and where she came from. There was still joie de vivre in Violeta’s nature in those days. The stripping and strident effects of Violeta’s life will not have taken effect for another 20 years. In the end, Rosita would get the best of the as-yet undamaged Violeta.

Violeta gave birth to a beautiful, pale skinned baby boy. Alberto Arthur Garlinghouse

was the pride of Quisqueya but mostly the pride of Doña Emilia. She could barely contain her excitement and joy at holding her white grandson. She almost felt accomplished. Mr.

Garlinghouse was over the moon. He loved Violeta more than ever - more than his wife - and

was overjoyed with his new family. He doted on his querida’s every need and, for the moment, Violeta was content. She was surrounded by the aspirational thrill of new life that the unfortunate Pipíche was robbed of. Violeta never forgot Pipíche but did come to love little Belto, as he came to be known, who was a sweet and tender child. Her little household of two grew to three, Violeta, Rosita and Alberto. Arthur’s visits continued with frequency, but he never spent the night, creating an incessant loud and clanging insult that Violeta endured each time he left her house after he laid with her. It never ceased to infuriate her.

Elena arrived every morning for her coffee and breakfast with her second baby, Susanna

and her third on the way. And every morning the two sisters shared their aching grievances, each caressing the pains, woes and babies of the other. For a long stretch, each day melted seamlessly into the next. Rosita became Alberto’s big sister, doting on him as Violeta doted on her. Arthur’s visits, limits and generosity remained consistent. Violeta’s family would never go hungry as long as she went along with the rule. Soon, Elena’s third child, Minerva was born and a year later Violeta found herself pregnant for the third time in her life. Meanwhile, Elena’s Carlton disappeared for months at a time only to return to get her pregnant, again and again. She and her children would go hungry, and even homeless if it weren’t for Violeta and Arthur’s generosity.

Carlton Evans Edward was an arrogant man that Elena mistook for important. He was tall and handsome and had avoided work most of his life. Like many islanders, he found his way to Santo Domingo, where there was promise of an easier path. It’s what he always sought. Easy. When he met the beautiful, gentle and naive Elena, she fell instantly in love, and she was immediately fooled by his swagger. Doña Emilia knew he wasn’t right for her sweet daughter, or anyone else for that matter, but she was in no position to negotiate at the time. When Carlton married Elena, she was already pregnant with Rosita. By the time Susana and Minerva arrived, Violeta was supporting the entire family, having located them just down the hill from her home.

Carlton was gone more than he was home. He spoke often of driving jobs and

responsibilities that he had back home in Antigua. No one knew Carlton to be responsible to

anyone or anything. As for the driving jobs, he never returned with money, but instead with his hand out and an empty belly. It was after his return from one of these mysterious trips that Violeta confronted him about his absences and his lack of support for his ever-growing family. An argument ensued. Violeta angrily clarified what his responsibilities were as head of his family. With one hand on her hip, she shamed him with the facts: “Carlton, what kind of man are you! I pay the rent for your house. I make sure there is food on your table. You are not even here for the birth of your children! Don’t you have any shame?” Violeta wanted to know.

Carlton stared at Violeta. He didn’t like her. She had had his number from the beginning. “What do you know about life, eh? Living in your grand house on the hill telling everyone what to do below you. What do you know about anything?”

Little did he know. It was time for Carlton to step up and take responsibility. Elena heard everything and slipped out of the house beside herself with embarrassment. She knew this day would come and she was afraid of what would happen next. She loved her husband, but she needed her sister for her security.

That night Carlton woke Elena up and told her they were leaving. They were going to

San Pedro de Macorís where he had secured a job, he said. They were to gather what they could and leave in the dead of night. Elena, wanting to believe her husband and wanting more than anything for him to provide for them like a proper husband, got out of bed and collected their few belongings. Once she made their bundles, she woke Susanna and Minerva up and told them they were going on an adventure. Rosita, living with Violeta was spared the exodus. Elena dressed the girls and the four stepped out into the darkness and walked and walked until they got to the main road where, after walking along the highway for a time, a driver kindly picked them up and drove them to San Pedro de Macorís, three hours north of Quisqueya. There was no home or job waiting for them there. Arrogance and ego escorted the girls out of their home and away from security. The desire for a transformed husband compelled Elena to leave the safety of Quisqueya with her two daughters and arrive in a town where they knew no one and had nothing. It took Violeta two days to locate her sister and the girls. She sent the car for them and brought them back. There were now four grandchildren: Rosita, Alberto, Susanna, and Minerva. Violeta was pregnant with her second. Soon there would be six children.

It was noon when the slap slap of Violeta’s chancletas echoed loudly on the dusty road. A fine spray of iron-red dirt fanned out behind her like a long flowing cape. Her hips swayed side to side as her head of shiny black curls bobbed high and down to her shoulders. Violeta was feeling the weight of the responsibility of her family. She marched down to Elena’s house with her hand on her hip and a pair of scissors still dangling from her other hand - she had been in the middle of cutting a pattern. It was so hot the platano [9] trees sagged heavily in the oppressive heat. The air was thick and still. Curtains hung limp in windows thirsty for a little movement. Nothing stirred, not even the flies. The lizards napped. As she marched down the lane to her sisters’ house, she could hear the scraping of spoons and the raspy rumble of conversations while her neighbors ate their comida del dia [10] , the main meal of the day. Behind her, atop the hill in her breezy home, Belto and Rosita sat, legs swinging from their chairs in the kitchen, slurping their soup. Marisól, the nanny, Sylvina and Doña Emilia ate quietly with them.

Violeta needed to make sure la cantina [11] had arrived on time for Elena and her three

hungry children. Balina, who had moved from Emilia’s house to help Elena with the children,

had left suddenly the day before yesterday because of some problem in Santo Domingo with her mother and brother. Could he really have stabbed his own mother? ¡que horror! But she couldn’t worry about that now, she had enough to deal with. Elena was pregnant - again - and her good for nothing husband had not returned from Antigua where he had escaped to after leaving his wife and daughters stranded in San Pedro de Macorís. What a good-for-nothing! As far as Violeta was concerned, men were useless. Even the children they helped produce just created more work for her. Violeta had her hands full. Like Elena, she was also well into her second pregnancy. Once she arrived and saw Elena doling out la comida [12] for the girls, she headed back up the hill.

The afternoon gleamed after a quick tropical storm. Steam rose from the scorched earth, taking with it the dusty heat. At two 2 o’clock the stores would yawn open from their siestas. Ladies would stroll out under their parasols to complete their mandádos [13] to el zapatero [14] or maybe la bodega for a cup of rice, and then maybe to a friend’s for un cafecito. Each day unfurled in this simple and straightforward routine. Slow movements through the drowsy heat of the day anticipated the cooling relief of the sunset when one could wash off the sweat of the day and apply powder for a momentary sense of dryness. It was Violeta’s favorite part of the day. But right now she had other things on her mind. Elena was not feeling well with this her fourth pregnancy. She would probably need bed rest for the majority of the gestation. There would be four babies to feed now plus her household to manage. Elena’s husband, Carlton, had not returned upon hearing of the pregnancy and Violeta was getting ready to give birth to her second child. Much rested on her shoulders.

A beautiful blond baby girl, Tica, was born to Violeta and Arthur. Named after her

mother, the diminutive Violetica proved to be too much of a mouthful. All Belto could get out when he met his sister was Tica and it stuck, for life. Elena had her fourth child, a son, Eduarado. The sister mothers carried on with their daily morning ritual at the dining room table overlooking the front porch. The scents of the wisteria tree, roses and herbs wafted in from the open windows. Flies buzzed around gently in the still air. Their growing brood would be tangled in and around Valeria as she clipped herbs in the garden for the day’s main meal while the young mothers savored their hearty mangú, a breakfast of mashed green plantains drizzled with olive oil and topped with a fried egg. The sisters eased through their days, caring for their brood with the help of Marisól, la niñera, while the radio played, and the main meal of the day simmered under Valeria’s knowing hand. Mealtimes would glide into siestas, into baths, pan con chocolate and then a friendly evening stroll to greet the vecínos. [15] Life’s sweet rhythm seemed to flow uninterrupted. Arthur too, remained consistent with his love, his generosity and his habit of leaving after sex. It was an insurmountable indignity in Violeta’s otherwise calm and steady life.

The other insult was more bittersweet. Príamo, who had returned from Santo Domingo a year earlier, took it upon himself to delight Violeta every now and again by galloping up to her house on his big white stallion, Valentino, and entertaining her with his gallant equestrian skills. Rosita was always the first to hear Valentino galloping up to the house. “¡aqui viene Príamo!” [16] she would exclaim laughing. Prìamo would appear either riding Valentino backwards or sometimes standing on his back while waving his hat in the air. Greeted by gales of laughter and screams from the children, the help and the sisters, Prìamo would smile widely and chuckle, asking after everyone as he stole glances at his beloved. Violeta would stand on the porch, her hand on her heart, keeping the pieces together. For Violeta, it would have been easier to never have to see Prìamo again.

On an autumn evening, when the days were getting shorter, Arthur and Violeta rocked on the mesedoras [17] on the wrap around porch. The crickets had just started their serenade. Sipping their mint tea, Arthur explained that he had to travel to the United States on business. Violeta was immediately fine with it.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“About a month. I have to go to New York and then to Texas to visit my family”

“I see,” Violeta was nonplussed. She actually looked forward to the break.

“Would you like to come to New York with me?”

Violeta’s eyebrow arched. “To New York?”

“Yes, I’d like to take you to The World’s Fair.”

“The World’s Fair? What’s that?”

The wheel of fortune of life was about to take another turn.


[1] perejil, tomillo, y mejorana – parsley, thyme and marjoram

[2] Mesedoras – rocking chairs

[3] Destilando Amor- Distilling Love

[4] mujer - woman

[5] príncipe - prince

[6] hibaro –hillbilly

[7] cualquiera – anybody; a nobody

[8] tia - aunt

[9] platano - plantain

[10] comida del dia – main meal of the day

[11] La cantina – daily food delivery service

[12] la comida – the food

[13] mandádos - errands

[14] el zapatero – the shoe repairman

[15] Vecínos - neighbors

[16] ¡aqui viene Príamo! – Here comes Priamo! [17] Mesedoras – rocking chairs

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