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Excerpts fromVeronica’s Diary IIBraving a New World
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Jamaica, Long Island New York, USA
Spring of 1962 I am no longer called Verónica. Al explained that in America, Ronnie is the nickname for Verónica, and it’s shorter and therefore easier to say. I wrote to Mama about my new name. I got a letter from Papa saying that he is very sad and hurt that I have discarded the name his mother chose for me at birth. He wants to know what possessed me to change my beautiful name to a horrible name like Ronnie, which has the same sound as ranhosa, which means snotty nose, in Portuguese. Papa asked me if I was ashamed of my name, and he also wanted to know why. I wrote back explaining that in America nobody is called by the name they are born with, principally if it is too long, like mine is. Nicknames are used a lot because everybody is in a hurry, and using extra long words seems to be a waste of everybody’s time. Al and Nelly also told me that I have to make my name shorter because it is a pain in the neck to wait until I am finished signing my whole name. When I become an American citizen I will have the opportunity to change from Verónica Leah Toledano Ezaguy Wartenberg Esagui to a more sensible name like Veronica Esagui. I am not telling this to my parents. Without Wartenberg in my name, they will freak out; principally Papa.
Winter 1965 Nelly has taken over Ralph like a ferocious tiger defending her newborn. I have lost my son completely to her. She bathes, feeds him, and anything he wants he gets. Nelly has also taken over the household. For a while I thought it was my imagination. She gets angry if I re-touch something she supposedly already cleaned. She instructs me on what she wants me to do around the house. She says stuff like; go wax the living room floors, go wash the windows, go clean the kitchen floor, we are having this and that for supper. If I want to play with Ralph, she says, “Ralph is mine, and Steve is yours.” This is like a nightmare, but I don’t have the courage to speak up. I am afraid to hurt her feelings. I want to tell her that they are both my children, and why can’t we both share them? But I don’t want her to get upset at me.
Spring of 1970 I have been in and out of the hospital for the last two months. After Dr. Adler removed the stitches in his office, I was so sore inside that I didn’t get up from my bed until nine the next morning. Nelly and the children had already had breakfast. I felt so bad that I wasn’t doing anything to help downstairs, that I decided to get up and do some house chores. I started by making my bed. When I bent forward to tuck in the bottom bed sheet, I felt something wet slip out from between my legs and into my underwear. I took a look and it was a big red blob made of what looked like blood. So I thought it would be a good idea to lie down and stay still, but another red blob came out anyway. It wasn’t painful, just a weird feeling. I decided to call Dr. Adler since I had never seen anything like that. He was not available, and about an hour later he called back and I told him what was happening. He said, “You are hemorrhaging, get to the hospital immediately.” I went down to the playroom where I found the kids watching television and told Nelly that Dr. Adler wanted me to go to the hospital because I was hemorrhaging. I was scared. I looked at Ralph and Steve, wondering if I was going to die that day and never get to see them grow up. My world was falling apart. I wished they were older so they could comfort me and take my fears away. Nelly didn’t seem to be worried about it when she calmly said, “Just lie down and wait until Al gets home in a couple of hours. After he has his dinner, he will drive you to the hospital.” When Al came home, I came downstairs and served his dinner and I didn’t say anything. I sat next to Al quietly, waiting for him to finish eating while I kept my legs tightly crossed so that the stuff would not plop out. I was feeling weak and when he asked me how I was doing I said, “Oh, I am fine, I am just waiting for you to finish eating so I can ask you to take me to the hospital, because I am hemorrhaging.” He wanted to see what the heck I was talking about, and when he looked at my underwear he freaked out, “My God,” he yelled, “You are bleeding to death.” He wrapped a blanket around me like a diaper so that I would not bleed all over his car. I could feel the blood just gushing out into the blanket and down my legs. The kids and Nelly were in the backseat, and when I looked at Al I saw in his eyes a look of panic and I came to the conclusion that I was about to die. In the emergency room I must have passed out because I don’t remember anything except for a nurse slapping at my wrists. I woke up hearing a voice next to me. “Ronnie! Ronnie, are you awake?” It sounded like Nelly. She was lying on the bed next to mine! She was laughing as she told me that she’d faked a heart attack and requested to stay in the hospital in the same room as me. I asked God, “Why, why is she next to me? I couldn’t escape from her, not even while dying in the hospital?” Then I felt guilty and realized how much work she had gone through to stay by my side. She had done it out of love. How many friends or even family members could say they had sacrificed themselves to be near the one they love by faking a heart attack? I thanked her for caring and felt blissful.
Winter of 1977 A week has gone by since I left Ralph at the Valley Forge Academy. Ralph is out there marching like a criminal in the cold nasty freezing snow of Pennsylvania and I, his mother, did that to him! This is it! I can’t take it anymore. I know that Papa got upset when I wrote to him that I feel like I have my hands tied behind my back and I’m drowning, but it’s true. I am losing both my children. I wish I had a normal life, a normal family life. But because of Nelly’s constant meddling in our lives come this spring, Steve will be joining his brother Ralph at the Valley Forge Academy too. And then it will be just Nelly and Al in this big house, and I will continue being the pawn between the two of them. I wish I could run away. Teaching and going to school takes me away from home, but if when I come home my children are not there I don’t see the purpose in coming home anymore. I carefully thought about my present situation all last night and came to the conclusion that I am done with Al and Nelly, and yes, I am running away from all this madness. I don’t need to live with my husband and his mother; I make enough money to be on my own. Before leaving for college this morning, I went to my neighbor Mrs. Shapiro’s house, and gave her a condensed version of my life living with Nelly, and how I feel about losing both my children.. I told her that I would be staying at the motel on Route 9, until I found an apartment. I sat at her kitchen table and after writing a letter to Al, I asked her to personally give that letter to Al when he got home from work this afternoon. My letter to Al was short.
Dear Al,
I am sorry that I have to leave you but I’m not coming back. Living with Nelly has not been easy. She is the one that is married to you, not me. I have lost my children because her. Don’t worry, I will continue to work, and every month I will send you money to cover tuition for our sons, so they can have a good education. Please forgive me for doing this, but I am not happy.
Love, Ronnie
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