A Lesson in Courage

My name is Carol Sunderstrom Castillo. I am fair skinned, with blue eyes and long, straight, blond hair like my mother. I was born in Seattle, Washington to Karl and Elaine Sunderstrom 19 years ago. I have two older sisters. Ingra lives in Denmark where she is a designer and Irene is married and lives in France. I am a senior at St. Mary’s High .
Mother was killed in an auto accident when I was three, so I don’t remember a lot about her. Grandmother Sunderstrom came to my house to take care of me and has just stayed on even now when I’m grown up.
I don't see much of Father as he seems always to be working or attending a meeting. Grandmother spends a lot of her time in her room with “a sick headache.” There has always been a maid around but they never want me to have friends in because they would dirty the house or would be in the way. And I couldn’t have a dog either, even if I would take care of it.
I always wanted to be ballet dancer. Father told me I walked like a duck, but he said if I could find someone willing to take me on, he would pay for dancing lessons. So, I found Ms. Carlotta who taught in an academy not far from St. Mary’s. She thought I had talent and, after two years of training, I am finally going to appear in a performance. It has been very hard work and my feet still hurt after a long rehearsal, but I love it! I wrote Irene and Ingra about my progress and they always support me. In fact, Irene invited me to stay with her in France if I want to continue my study there.
Sometimes on Saturdays, I go to Father’s shipyard to visit. He invites me into his office where I drink strong, black coffee and eat some of the doughnuts he always has there. The men working for him are rough and loud, but I like them because they are always so friendly.
That’s where I met Carlos. He was carrying a huge load onto the ship and I could see his neck and shoulder muscles were wet from perspiration. His body was stronger and more developed than any of the the men in my dance classes and I liked to watch him move. I wondered how he would look in a leotard, so handsome with his dark skin, black hair and brown eyes. As he turned to lower the heavy load he was carrying to the ground, he saw me looking at him. He smiled and spoke in Spanish , “Hola! Soy Carlos. Cual es su nombre?”
I felt special. Not like when other guys had spoken to me. This time was different. Before I could answer, his foreman shouted at him to get back to work. As he was leaving, I yelled, “Carol. Carol Sunderstrom.”
I looked for Carlos each time I went to the shipyard and before long found reason to be there more frequently. He always smiled at me but It was difficult for us to talk while he was working, so he told me where his rooming house was and said he was through work at five o’clock and we could go somewhere for dinner that night.
I was there waiting for him in the BMW Father had given me on my 19th birthday. Carlos didn’t want me to come with him but asked me to wait in the car while he showered and changed clothes. He said his room was a mess.
We went to a Mexican restaurant where he liked to eat. We found a small, round table in the corner lighted by a stubby candle. Since I wasn’t familiar with Mexican food, he ordered for me -- chili, tamales, refried beans and cervezo which bubbled when I drank it.
He told me about his childhood, though it seemed so foreign and violent, I couldn’t really imagine his living that way. But I loved most to look at him as he spoke of things he remembered. His brown eyes seemed to be flecked with gold in the candle light and his white teeth looked whiter against his dark skin when he laughed. He laughed a lot and called me a “pocito conejo” because, he said, I was like a scared rabbit when he described some of the things that had happened to him.
Carlos left home when he was fourteen and had been picked up by police in every country where he had been, usually he had become involved in a fight for some cause or other. He finally crossed illegally into the United States and found work right away as a miner in Arizona. When he got tired of that, he signed on as a stevedore. That’s when we met.
We fell in love, of course. Or perhaps I should say, I fell in love with his impetuosity, his courage, his Latin good looks. He was a passionate lover, I discovered, and I soon outgrew my guilt.
Still, we were both surprised when I discovered I was pregnant. Telling Grandmother was unpleasant, but necessary. She told Father, of course and he left word that he wanted to talk to both of us the next evening.
Carlos arrived at our house on time, dressed neatly in a new white shirt which made his skin seem even darker. He had polished his beloved brown boots to a high shine and I felt so proud of him.
Father said, “How do you do,” when I introduced them, but did not offer his hand. He spent several minutes questioning Carlos as to his family background and future plans. I knew this visit was not going to end happily for us.
Father asked where we would be living and how soon I would be moving my belongings. He told Carlos not to expect any financial help from him and to report to the office tomorrow to pick up his final paycheck.
I saw Carlos’ face darken and his eyes took on a strange red light. I remembered some of the violent scenes he had described and managed to take him outside before violence erupted.
We drove back to his room where we made plans for our future. We knew we had to marry and Carlos insisted it would be a Catholic priest. He arranged this for the next week and I would stay with him until our wedding. I knew why he didn’t want me to see his room. It really was a mess!
Father was gone when I returned to the house to gather my clothes and Grandmother was not in sight. I went to my room to pack and realized this was not the way it was when Ingra and Irene left home home. I cried for a while, but Carlos was waiting. I took what I could carry in two suitcases, just those things he liked to see me wear. The hardest to leave were my beautiful ballet costumes and slippers. Well, that life was over and I was now Mrs. Carlos Castillo, with a baby of our own on the way. I didn’t need my father or my grandmother.
We left Seattle the next day, heading south for the sunshine in my BMW. Carlos was quiet. “Thinking,” he said, “of what do do to take care of you and the baby.” I felt safe and loved. Whatever he wanted to do would be fine, I knew.
We were going where he thought he could find work in the mines.I had never seen a mining camp before; in fact I had seldom been out of Seattle I was not prepared for Midland, a mining town in southeastern California. Carlos was hired right away to work in the iron mine and we were directed to a company house which we were to rent. It was supposed to be furnished, but all that meant was a broken down couch and a wooden rocker, a bed and a table with four chairs. There were no dishes or cooking pots. The refrigerator was old and not very clean and there was no cooler. It was terrible, but all the other houses looked the same, so I knew we could get by.
Our rent was taken out of his paycheck every week. The company paid for our electricity and water. There was no phone. We bought oil for cooking and heat from the company store as well as groceries and general items. Anything we spent there would also be deducted from the paycheck. There was even a bar for the miners where they could charge drinks. What was left of the pay would be given us in cash. If more things were purchased than we had money to pay for that week,we could sign “chits” which would appear in the next week’s envelope in place of that amount of money. After the first two weeks, i could see we weren’t going to have much left except chits. There was nothing for Carlos to do after work except stop at the bar with the mine crew and it didn’t seem like he was spending much when drinks were put on his weekly bill. Not only that, when he drank, he argued with everybody and sometimes got in fights.
I felt so lonely and afraid. How could we take care of a baby? Carlos didn’t seem to be worried at all. He said he had a good job and we had a house. What more did I want?
Then I met Irene Jenkinson in the general store. She had her little boy with her and I told her I was pregnant. She was so nice to me, even invited me to visit her for lunch the next day. When I told Carlos that night, he said her husband was the boss on his mine section and he was a decent man to work for.
I wore my prettiest dress which wasn’t too tight yet and walked to her house for lunch. Their house was not nearly as nice as ours in Seattle, but it was about the best one in Midland. There were curtains and rugs and even a swamp cooler. We had a lovely visit and a nice lunch.
Mrs. Jenkinson was so easy to be around and talk to. I told her how Carlos and I had met and how hard it was to be away from Seattle. And that I didn’t really know how to cook or keep house and was afraid to have the baby because I didn’t know how to take care of it.
She said she had had a rough time too, when she got married and gave me a lot of advice about how to do things. She even loaned me some dishes and sheets and told me to come by anytime to visit. Then she said she would pay me to help her with the house and her little boy if I wanted to. I did want to and helped her twice a week. I didn’t tell Carlos though. She showed me how to open a bank account at Midland Bank and I put all the money I earned as well as the little bit I could save from his pay check into a savings account.
Carlos was trying hard to get a better job in the mine. He had started out as a laborer, just breaking rocks with a hammer, but wanted to learn how to use dynamite to blast out tunnels. I felt afraid when he told me, but he said his mine boss was real careful and wouldn’t let them dynamite if it was dangerous.
A month later, he had his new job with a good pay raise. He was so happy he didn’t stop at the bar as often any more. We had money left every payday instead of chits, and I could save a little bit more each week in the bank account. Carlos didn’t lose his temper as he had before and his smile was still the way I remembered it. We started thinking about a name for the baby. Carlos knew it would be a boy and wanted to name the baby Hector, after his father. I didn’t like that name, but thought we would talk about that later.
Then one day, Carlos came home early -- and drunk. I knew something terrible must have happened when i saw him reeling down the dirt road. I met him as he came to the house, but he pushed me out of the way, went into the bedroom and slammed the door, swearing. I didn’t know what he was saying. All I wanted to do was to stay out of his way. I slept on the living room floor that night and the next morning he left right after breakfast without saying anything.
I went to visit Mrs. Jenkinson to ask her what to do. She knew what had happened. Her husband had asked Carlos to return to the bottom of the mine to help his old crew because someone was out ill. Carlos had refused to do it since he was “a dynamite man now and dynamite men don’t pound rocks with a hammer.” I guess he became violent again and the section boss had to fire him.
I hurried home to be there when Carlos returned. He had picked up his pay envelope and said we were packing to go back to Mexico. I knew how disappointed in himself he must be and asked why he didn’t go back to the boss and apologize. Maybe could get his job back. He said he had never apologized to anyone and never would.
I told him I had a little money in the bank, so we stopped on the way out of town to withdraw it; he didn’t ask me where it came from.
Now we are on our way again. To Mexico this time, Carlos, Hector and me. I wish I had some of Carlos’ courage and he had some of my patience. I am afraid for us.
Jeane Davidson
July 24,2007 .