A Daughter's Place

1. :::::As my eyes continued to roam around the kitchen, I saw a large basin of water on the floor by the fireplace. Next to it was a stool with a folded towel.
   :::::“What’s that for?”
   :::::“Señora Magdalena asked me to bathe you before you go to bed,” Teresa said. “And she wants me to take a look at the belongings you brought with you.”
   :::::“You mean the clothes I packed in my sack?”
   :::::Teresa nodded. She picked up the sack and handed it to me.
   :::::“Why? All I have is my best dress and a shawl.”
   :::::“Yes, give them to me.” She held out her hand. Not wanting her to see my silver pomander, I opened the sack and brought out my dress and my shawl. She took them and laid them over her arm.
   :::::“I’ll take the sack, too.” She held out her hand again. “It needs a good scrub.”
   :::::“But where will I keep my clothes?”
   :::::“There’s a trunk for you upstairs, in Señorita Constanza’s room.”
   :::::“A trunk?” I smiled with pleasure. Deciding to trust Teresa, and I took the silver pomander out of the sack and held it out for her to see.
   :::::“This belonged to my mother,” I said. She took it from my hand with a smile.
   :::::“It’s very beautiful. You will want to keep that in your trunk,” she said, putting it on the table and taking the sack. With a feeling of relief, I went over to touch the water in the basin. What a pleasant surprise to feel that it was lukewarm, not cold!
   :::::“What about the clothes I just gave you?” I asked.
   :::::Teresa shrugged. “Your aunt will probably give them to the poor,” she said.
   :::::“But my Sunday dress is as good as new!” I replied, distressed. Teresa shook her head. “Well, almost new.” I conceded. “And this skirt is special,” I protested, smoothing it out against my leg. “Very special.”
   :::::“You’ll have to talk to Señora Magdalena about that. Now, take off your clothes.” I hesitated, taken aback, and my excitement faded. I had never exposed myself in front of a stranger. “I will wash your hair, too. Your aunt said so.”
   :::::Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I looked around as if trying to find a way out.
   :::::“Come on, mi niña. It’s getting dark fast. I still have to brush your aunt’s overskirt, and God knows I didn’t warm up all that water for nothing.”
   :::::With my face on fire, I opened my shirt. Teresa offered to help me undo my skirt, but I asked to do it on my own. I wanted to say goodbye to it, to touch it silently for the very last time. I remembered the day Mother had brought it back to our apartment above the tavern. Ana and I were getting ready to go downstairs and help serve our customers. My task was to measure the wine, and she helped Mother at the bodegón de puntapié, the stall we had set up outside the tavern door when the new rules prohibiting the sale of food inside came into effect.
   :::::Mother burst into the room, proudly holding up the skirt as if it were a flag.
   :::::“Isabel, look what I have for you!” She was beaming. “Luisa Benzón gave it to me, and I think it will fit you perfectly.” Luisa Benzón was a famous actress, one of the first women to work on stage. She had given the skirt to Mother in exchange for wine. With the theatres closed because of the plague, actors were having a hard time covering their basic needs.
   :::::“You will look all grown up and fancy wearing it, cariño. Try it on!” I put on the skirt and Mother and Ana clapped in excitement. “It’s perfect!” Mother exclaimed as she hugged me. “Look at you, so tall and beautiful! I’m proud of you!”
   :::::I felt a pang in my stomach. Would she be proud of me now?
   :::::“Do you think we could save the skirt for my sister? For when she’s older?” My voice broke as I spoke. “It used to belong to Luisa Benzón.”
   :::::“The actress?” Teresa’s asked with wide eyes.
   :::::“Yes,” I said proudly.
   :::::“Well, aren’t you full of surprises!” Smiling, she examined the skirt more closely. I held my breath, but after a few seconds of silence she shook her head. “I don’t think it can be saved. It’s too worn. Too thin. And too stained. It has certainly seen better days.”
   :::::“Haven’t we all?” I said mournfully.
   :::::“Look at you, talking like an old lady!” Teresa said with a laugh. “How old are you, anyway?”
   :::::“I turned fifteen in April.”
   :::::“Not November, on Saint Isabel’s Day?”
   :::::“No. Mother named me after her baby sister, who died shortly before I was born. She said it was her hope that I would live for us both.” My name had always made me feel accompanied, protected. Why did I feel so alone now?
   :::::“April!” Teresa sighed. “Las mañanicas de abril son dulces de dormir …” But instead of completing the happy saying, she handed me a cloth to dry my tears. Then, without another word, she helped me remove the rest of my clothes, and I stepped in the basin. I crouched down so she could lather my head with an olive-scented soap that reminded me of my childhood and made me yearn for Mother even more. Teresa scrubbed my scalp and my back, while I washed my arms and legs. Then she helped me rinse off the soap and dry myself with the linen towel. Her hands were strong but gentle, and by the time I had put on the clean chemise I would wear to sleep, I was feeling much better. As a last step, Teresa applied orange blossom oil to my hair before combing it.
   :::::“Your father will be amazed when he sees you,” she said when she was done. “You look exactly like …”
   :::::Like him, whatever that meant. Or like Leonor—as if I cared. As if resembling a couple of strangers had any meaning for me. All I could focus on was my old skirt, which lay abandoned, like a dead animal, on the floor. It had not only seen better days; it had seen my best days, yet here I was, turning my back on it. Feeling like a traitor, I followed Teresa out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the room I was to share with my new cousin. This time, the pain in my stomach was not hunger; it was the realization that I had exchanged everyone and everything I loved for twenty ducats.

Excerpted from A Daughter’s Place by Martha Bátiz. ©2025 Martha Bátiz. Published by House of Anansi And HERE is the link on our website!

Photo de Leandro Silva en Unsplash

 Martha Bátiz is a translator, writer and professor of creative writing and Spanish language and literature who moved from Mexico to Toronto in 2003. She has written five books, including the short story collection Plaza Requiem, which won the International Latino Book Award, and the novella Damiana’s Reprieve, which received the Casa de Teatro Prize. Her debut novel is A Daughter’s Place.

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Posted: April 24, 2025 at 5:15 pm