One morning, as the light from the rising sun crawled across the city, a sniveling, sorry excuse for a man by the name of Manoel Duarte approached me. Short and squat, at full height he barely stood above my shoulder. He looked as if he had just finished crying; his eyes were red, and he sniffled uncontrollably. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that he washed his hair with grease.

“May I carry your water for you?” he asked, out of breath from having to take large strides to keep up with me. I picked up my pace as he trailed behind me.

The next day he showed up at the well again. He asked if he could carry my water, and again I walked past him without saying a word. Surely if I continued to ignore him, he would go away like the stray dog that he was.

A few weeks later, while the sun set over Laguna, I sat down for our meager dinner of rice and beans with my godfather and mother. “I received a letter from your sister, Maria, today,” my mother said with a grin. “She is very happy with her husband. Ship caulkers make a fine living. She doesn’t need to work. Only tend to the house.”

“Good for her,” I said, reaching for more rice.

“I understand shoemakers make a good living as well,” my mother said. “One, in particular, seems to have his eyes on you.”

I looked up, stopping midchew. “Who?”

“A certain young man who likes to walk home with you from the well.” My mother smiled coyly as my godfather stared intently into his beans.

“Mother, I don’t know what you are talking about. There is only one person who likes…Oh no, Mother, you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I was paid a visit today by Manoel. He is a nice young man. He says that you and he—”

“He and I nothing!” I roared. “I have no interest in that man at all. Whatever he told you is a lie.”

“It can’t be that much of a lie. He asked me for your hand in marriage today.”

“Mother, no,” I said, fighting the tears that were building in my eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“A woman without a father is nothing. You need to be protected and taken care of.” My mother kept a controlled coolness that made me angrier.

“No,” I said, feeling my world crashing in. I was only fourteen. I wasn’t ready for this.

“The contract is already signed,” my mother said, as if she were buying produce at the market.

“I can’t believe you did this without my permission! I shouldn’t have to marry anyone!” I yelled.

“Anna!” She dropped her food onto her plate. “I am your mother. I don’t need your permission to do anything. I could have you dragged out into the streets and beaten for your disrespect. No one would even question me. Whatever notions you have in your head, you need to get rid of them right now. You have two purposes in life. One is to get married and the other is to make children with your husband. That’s it.”