Free Nilda by Nicholasa Mohr

She began to figure out just how long it took the second hand to reach the next number, thereby causing the large black hand to move ever so slightly. The game was beginning to bore her and she lost interest. She leaned against her mother, who was shifting her weight from side to side, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard bench.
    â€œMami,” Nilda whispered, nudging her mother, “I’m tired. How much longer we gonna be?”
    â€œBe still, Nilda,” her mother answered quietly.
    â€œI’m thirsty. Can I get another drink of water?”
    â€œYou been up to get water at least five times. Just be still; they’ll call us soon. Everybody here is also waiting. You are not the only one that’s tired, you know.” Her voice was almost a whisper, but Nilda knew she was annoyed. Nilda hated to come to places like this where she felt she had to wait forever. It’s alwaysthe same, she thought, wait, wait, wait! She remembered the long wait they’d had at the clinic last time. It was over five hours.
    â€œStop leaning on me, Nilda; you are not a baby. ¡Ya basta! Sit up and be still!” This time her mother had turned to look at her and she knew she had better be still.
    The only good thing is that I don’t have to go to school, she thought. Her mother would give her an excuse note tomorrow, so she did not have to worry.
    Nilda looked around the large room again; each long row of benches was filled with people sitting silently. There were no other children her age. Now and then someone new came in from the outside, walked up to the front desk and handed the clerk a card, then sat down on a bench, joining the silent group.
    She looked at the grey-green walls: except for two posters, placed a few feet apart, and the big round clock, the walls were bare. She began to study the posters again; she knew them almost by heart. They were full of instructions. The one nearest Nilda had a lifelike drawing of a young, smiling white woman, showing how well she was dressed when she went to look for employment. The reader was carefully informed about proper clothing, using this figure as the perfect model. Her brown hat sat on her short brown hair. Her smiling face had been scrubbed clean, her white teeth brushed and she wore very little make-up. Her brown suit was clean and her skirt was just about six inches below the knee. She carried a brown handbag, wore clean gloves and nicely polished shoes as she strolled along a tree-lined street, confident about her interview. She sure looks happy, thought Nilda. She must be a teacher or something like that.
    The second poster was a large faded color photograph of a proper breakfast. The photograph showed fresh oranges, cereal, milk, a bowl of sugar, a plate of bacon and eggs, toast with butter and jelly. The reader was warned that it was not good to leave the house without having had such a breakfast first. Looking at the food, Nilda began to remember that she was hungry. She hadeaten her usual breakfast of coffee with boiled milk, sugar and a roll. It seemed to her that she had eaten a long, long time ago, and her stomach annoyed her when she looked at the bacon and eggs. I hope they call us soon, she said to herself.
    The lady clerk at the front desk looked up and read a name aloud from a card. “Mrs. Lydia Ramírez,” she called out.
    â€œCome on,” her mother said as she stood up and walked past the benches full of waiting people. Nilda followed her up to the front.
    The lady clerk pointed and said, “Into the next room. You will see Miss Heinz.” She then handed her mother a card. Nilda walked with her mother into another large room lined with rows of desks. A woman, seated at a desk across the room, raised her arm and waved to them. “Over here, please.” They walked quickly up to the woman and waited. The social worker, without lifting her head, pointed to the empty chair at the side of her desk.