I’m almost fourteen years old and already I think more than all the rest of the family. I think I began to draw conclusions from the age of ten years, or less. And I swear I never saw anybody from mama’s family think about things. They hear something and believe it: and that’s for the rest of their lives.
They’re all happy like that!
* * *
… I’m going to unburden myself here of the disappointment, the rage and the sorrow, that I suffered yesterday at my cousin Zinha’s wedding. She’s my rich uncle’s daughter, and the wedding was an important occasion.
My uncle ordered dress-lengths of silk from Rio de Janeiro for his girls. All my other cousins were making themselves silk dresses, too. Mama bought two lengths of fine pink wool for me and Luizinha. Aunt Madge took mine to make and Luizinha’s went to another dressmaker.
Aunt Madge came back from Rio recently and since then I haven’t had any peace. I have to carry a parasol so I won’t get sunburned, because the girls in Rio don’t have freckles. I have to wear my hair loose because the girls in Rio wear their hair loose. The same nagging all the time; the girls in Rio dress this way, the girls in Rio wear their hair that way. I didn’t mind if the dress was made like those the girls in Rio wear. I just wanted it to be pink.
Aunt Madge took the material and never asked me to try it on. I went to her house every day as usual, and saw nothing of the dress. Once I got up my courage and asked for it. She said, “Don’t worry. You’re going to the wedding looking prettier than all the others.”
The wedding was day before yesterday. I and Luizinha went to Dudu’s house to have our hair arranged, and we left delighted, with hairdos that made us look like young ladies. Luizinha dressed up in her dress and we went to Aunt Madge’s; my dress was nowhere to be seen. Aunt Madge said, “There’s no hurry, child. It’s early yet.” And taking a comb, she said, “Sit here. You’re a little girl, why do you want to wear your hair like a young lady?” She wet my hair, pulled out the curls, and let it fall down on my shoulders. Then she went and brought in the dress; a simple dress of navy blue wool with just a row of buttonholes down the back, bound with red ribbon.
Today I think it’s a pretty dress; but at the moment I had one of my attacks of rage and I couldn’t hold back my tears. Unable to say a word, I kissed my aunt’s hands and ran out in the street. Luizinha followed me, in silence. I went up Burgalhau Street, into the Cavalhada Nova, and into Direita Street, running all the way, and blind with rage. I couldn’t see a thing. Grandma’s been at Uncle Geraldo’s for several days, waiting for the wedding. I went into her room and fell on her bed in such a storm of tears it frightened her. But all she said was, “My God! What’s happened!” Luizinha came in and grandma asked, “What’s the matter?” Luizinha said, “It’s because she was longing for a pink dress and Aunt Madge dressed her like that.”
When I break down, it’s always with grandma. I feel she’s the only one who understands me. Then grandma began with her usual remarks: “Another of Madge’s and my trials with this girl! She doesn’t understand that we’re only trying to do what’s right for her. She wants always to be just like all the plain girls!” Then I raised my head sobbing, and said, “I’m the most miserable, the skinniest, the stupidest of them all, grandma, and I always have to be inferior in everything. I’m so envious of Luizinha because Aunt Madge doesn’t like her!” Grandma said, “Stop crying over nothing, silly child. Some day you’ll see that your godmother, who’s so good to you, and I were right. Go wash your face and let’s go to the parlor. They’re all there already.” Then I showed her my hair and said, “Do I have to go into the parlor with my hair like a lunatic from the asylum, grandma?” She said, “It’s pretty, child.” I said, “Grandma, the Senhora just doesn’t know what I’m going through. I was looking forward to my pink dress with such pleasure, and today, to dress like a widow, and to see all the rest of them in pink and pale blue and everything? No, grandma, it was too cruel of Aunt Madge. I don’t want her to take any more interest in me, grandma. This is the end!”
* * *
… If there were diviners of dreams today, the way there were in the time of Joseph of Egypt, what a fine thing it would be! I can never get that story of the seven fat cows and seven lean cows, that meant seven years of plenty and seven years of famine, out of my head.
I suffer a great deal from dreams and one of the worst I had when I was little was the disillusionment I suffered when I died and went to heaven. How horrible heaven was that night! I remember until today the dismal life I led in heaven until I woke up. It was an enormous yard, clean and bare, filled with old women in cloaks, with shawls on their heads, holding their hands up in prayer, not paying any attention to each other. No São Pedro, no angels, nothing. When they were tired of kneeling they walked around in that enormous yard with their heads bent, still praying. When I woke up and saw I wasn’t in heaven, what a relief!
Dreaming that I’m at Mass at the Cathedral in the middle of the crowd in my underwear is something horrible that’s always happening to me. Lots of times I’ve dreamed I was at school in my bare feet, without knowing where to hide them. It’s a constant martyrdom. But I’ve had marvelous dreams, too. I can’t count the times I’ve flown, without wings, to Boa Vista or over the houses of the city. It’s delightful! Or I was in a marvelous palace, like the little girl and the dwarfs. And I’ve dreamed of being in a field of peanuts, and I kept pulling up the plants and finding silver coins at the roots.
But last night’s dream was horrible. I dreamed I’d turned into a monkey, and in spite of my grief I could have resigned myself to being a monkey if I hadn’t had a tail, but my tail was enormous!
* * *
… Grandma’s been sick a week today and everyone in the house is in a state of the greatest anxiety, because they say that if she shows improvement today by tomorrow she’ll be saved.
I don’t know why God let me know grandma! I might have been so happy, because my parents are both strong and healthy, if I’d never known her. If only she’d died when I was little the way the other one did!
I’m in agony today! Esmeralda came to help us and taught us some prayers that God can’t possibly not listen to. We’re all praying with such faith! We’ve done almost nothing else all day today. There wasn’t even anyone to receive the callers.
I spent the day in anguish, seeing grandma in that condition, with nobody able to help her. The doctor comes and prescribes things, and goes away, and then she gets worried about herself!
What mama says is always right. Sometimes I thought it was absurd when she said that life is made up of suffering. Now I see she was right. Life really is made up of suffering. These days since grandma’s been sick I’ve forgotten all the joy I ever had and suffering is all I can think about. And since they said that tomorrow would be the crisis, I’ve been in such agony that all I can do is stay on my knees with the others, praying. When they get tired I take a walk around the garden, come back through the kitchen, the parlor, and go to every corner of the house, trying to find some peace, but I can’t. And if I go in grandma’s room, it’s worse torture.
Why does God punish us all this way? We never hurt anyone. I wait for the day He’ll remember and release grandma and us from this suffering.
* * *
… Grandma died!
Oh dear grandma, why has God taken you away and left me all alone in the world, missing you so much! Yes, my dear little grandmother, I’m all alone, because weren’t you the only person who’s ever understood me up until now? Shall I ever find anyone else in this life who’ll tell me I’m intelligent and pretty and good? Who’ll ever remember to give me material for a pretty new dress, so I won’t feel I’m beneath my cousins? Who’ll argue with mama and always try to defend me and find good qualities in me, when everyone else only finds faults?