Free Nilda by Nicholasa Mohr Page A

Her mother sat down. The woman continued to write something on a form sheet. Nilda stood next to her mother and looked down at the social worker as she went on writing. Her head was bent over and Nilda could see that her hair was very white and fine, with tiny waves and ringlets neatly arranged under a thin grey hair net. The tiny grey hairpins, which were carefully placed to hold each little lump of ringlets together, were barely visible. Her pink scalp shone through the sparse hair. Nilda had never seen such a brilliant pink scalp before. I wonder what would happen if I touched her head, she thought; maybe it would burn my finger. Finally, after a while, the woman lifted her head, nodded, and, still holding the pencil she had been writing with, asked, “Mrs. Lydia Ramírez?” Before her mother could answer, the social worker turned to Nilda and said, “My name is Miss Heinz. Does your mother understand or speak English?” Nilda turned to her mother with a look of confusion.
    â€œI speak English,” her mother replied quickly. “Maybe not so good, but I manage to get by all right.”
    â€œLet me have your card, please,” Miss Heinz said, holding out her hand. Nilda’s mother bent forward and gave Miss Heinz the card she had been holding. “Well, that’s a help. At least you can speak English. But then,” pointing to Nilda she continued, “why is she here? Why isn’t she in school? This is a school day, isn’t it?”
    Nilda could see her mother turning red. Her mother never liked to go to these places alone; she always brought Nilda with her. Ever since Nilda could remember, she had always tagged along with her mother.
    â€œShe wasn’t feeling too well so I kept her with me. She goes to school of course,” her mother said. Surprised, Nilda looked at her mother. She had not been sick at all.
    â€œWell, she should be home in bed, not here! Or are you alone?”
    â€œNo, I am not alone,” her mother bit her lips and went on, “but there was no one at home this morning.” Nilda knew Aunt Delia was home with her stepfather, and so were Sophie and the baby. Pausing, her mother went on, “My husband is resting; he is sick. So, I just thought—”
    â€œThis is not going to do her any good,” interrupted Miss Heinz. Looking at Nilda, she asked, “What’s wrong with you?” Nilda looked at her mother wide-eyed.
    â€œShe had an upset stomach,” her mother answered.
    Miss Heinz, blinking her eyes, heaved a sigh and picked up a folder with the name
Ramírez, Lydia.
“Now let’s get on with this. I’m way behind schedule as it is, you know. Plenty of other people to see. Mrs. Ramírez, you have one married son and four children in school, three boys and a daughter. Your husband suffered two heart attacks, his second leaving him incapacitated, and you want us to give you public assistance. Am I correct?”
    â€œYes,” her mother said in a voice barely audible. “He can’t work no more.”
    â€œWell then, we’ll have to ask you some questions. Now, are you legally married?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHow long? I see that your boys have a different last name. They are named Ortega.”
    â€œI been married twelve years.” Her mother wet her lips.
    â€œWere you legally married the first time and, if so, are you a widow or a divorcée?”
    â€œDivorce.”
    â€œIn Puerto Rico or in this country?”
    â€œI married in Puerto Rico, but I got divorced here.”
    â€œThat was twelve years ago? Then is this your second husband’s child?”
    Her mother sat up straight and answered, “Yes.” Nilda glanced at her mother. Surprised and confused, she knew that she had been almost three years old when her mother married her stepfather.
    â€œYour oldest son, Victor, can he help out?”
    â€œHe goes to high school, but he gets something