The Light of Day

“This is a long, long ride, Uncle Juan. I never even imagined any place could be so far away, Carlotta Rivera said. She filled her mind with happy ideas about going to the United States of America and living in Chicago. Although she was tired from being on the road for two days since leaving her little Mexican village, her thoughts flowed with prospects and excitement.

Her uncle, Juan Rivera sat in the seat beside her in his brand new 1990 Chevrolet. “Yes, it’s a long way there, but it shouldn’t be too much further,” he replied, seeming uninterested in conversation.

His sudden indifference caused her to wonder what had happened to make him change so drastically. He seemed far different from the robust, likeable man who’d lit up her family’s household. It wasn’t just the sudden silence either. Something tinged the ride, making her a little uneasy. The way he slid his eyes over toward her from time to time was what bothered her.

Her thoughts drifted back to when he’d come to visit.

“Look at all of the mouths you have to feed. You work like slaves, and still you have nothing, “he’d said to his brother Jose and his wife, Elena—Carlotta’s mom and dad.

Carlotta remembered how everyone’s spirits had dropped when he said that.

Carlotta and others in her village had seen their relatives take off for America, seeking a better life. Manuel, a good friend of her brother’s was one of those people. She and Manuel were practically the same age. Throughout their childhood, he’d had a crush on her. Manuel likes you, Carlotta, her brother would say. She’d just deny his remarks, shaking her head. Nonetheless, she’d noticed certain things and knew what her brother said was true. Whenever he’d visited their home, which was often, she was aware the entire time she was present that Manual focused his eyes on her. Regrettably, Manuel had died in an accident with a group of villagers headed for America. The bus had fallen into a river as it crossed a bridge, drowning everyone on board.

“For years, I’ve been thinking about my family, wondering if there was a way I could help make their lives better.” Juan’s pitch had sounded better than a used car salesman’s. “Carlotta’s eighteen,” he continued. “She could help the situation. She could come with me and have a great job working for an American family, and make good money. I can guarantee you the kind of money she can send back will lift you up like you wouldn’t believe. You can also rest assure that she’s in good hands.”

Throughout the journey, as happy and joyous as she was, recalling her family as she was departing dampened the experience. They’d had smiling faces, but she could tell that pride was intermingled with sadness. So thinking about the family she loved, her feelings weren’t confined to joy and expectation. Her heart overflowed, though, thinking about all the ways she’d be able to help her family and herself.

In addition, she was on an adventure, and her mind was spinning with aspiration and hope for the new episode unfolding before her eyes. Watching from the passenger window, life seemed filled with inspiration and passion as the landscape quietly rolled by over immense stretches of fields, tracts of green forests and isolated countryside. Oh, and the havens those quaint little houses formed made life appear to course contentedly over the dwellers inside. When darkness overtook the scene, she fell asleep to the car’s rhythm, challenging the long, dark highway, thinking about the destiny that was to claim her.

Don’t tell me this is where Uncle Juan wants me to live. This place looks horrible! It looks worse than where I came from! Her hopes fell as she looked out the car window at the dismal scary-looking surroundings. They’d entered a section of Chicago so dilapidated, it had the appearance of defeat as if it had been sapped of all of life’s energy. Why did he bring me here? She shivered with the feeling she was headed toward something bad. Her concern deepened when they arrived at a street more miserable than the ones she’d seen, with rundown buildings—most of them storefronts. What? Am I expected to live here? He pulled up and stopped at a wretched little dusty dry cleaning business. After days traveling, finally they’d arrived. The two got out of the car and entered the uninviting building.

“Habla usted espanol?” Carlotta nervously asked a woman who looked like a Latina offering her a seat on a beat-up sofa. The woman was one of six friendly seeming women in the tiny barely-furnished ugly living room inside the seedy storefront.

“Child, I ain’t no Hispanic or Latino. I can’t speak no Spanish ’cause I’m black, a light-skinned black,” the woman whose name was Althea told her, laughing. Raucous laughter from the two Caucasian and two other black women filled the tiny surroundings.

Unable to comprehend anything, Carlotta simply stood, her shoulders hunched, dismayed, looking from one to the other.

“You’ll get to know more about all of us girls soon. I just wish you could understand us. All of us only speak English.”

“You just got here today. Give yourself some time and you’ll learn how to speak it. I can tell you, it’s gone make it hard for you with your tricks if you don’t…you’ll learn,” added a tall, very thin white woman who looked at least fifty.

“I hope this chile don’t haveta learn nothin’! Juan oughta be ashamed of hisself, bringing a child into this mess, and worst of all, his niece and even worse, a chile.” Althea shook her head disgustedly.

Could these women be what I think they are? They seem so nice, but I’m getting the feeling that I’m in the middle of a room…that filthy, lying bastard brought me to be one of his prostitutes…betraying my family and me! Enraged, fearful, and feeling as helpless as a trapped animal, she burst into tears. Almost at once, the women started going to her, giving hugs, and sharing words of compassion, showing their understanding.

“You gone be okay, we’ll see to that! Just you wait, you gone be okay!” said Althea, the black woman, once she’d wrapped her thick arms around her and begun rocking her.

Carlotta’s uncle suddenly entered the room and Carlotta started yelling at him with tears falling down her angry face. “You lied to me and my family! You’re as low as they come!”

He ignored the attack and began talking to the women, telling them that he’d put out the word at taverns and such and johns would be coming so they needed to be ready.

Then, looking disgusted and stern, he turned to Carlotta, still crying and shouting protestations. “Now to you…shut the hell up!” With that, he grabbed her by the hand and roughly began pulling her. “I want you to be nice and fresh for tomorrow.”

“Let me go, you wicked bastard! Let me go!” she yelled at him, using every bit of strength she could to get free of him as he was pulling her down a small, narrow darkened hallway.

She’d been fighting him and yelling obscenities the whole time, and when they came to a particular room, he seemed to have extra trouble managing her and opening the door with a key.

“Get in there!” Exhaustion seemed to have stolen his voice and he was barely audible. Shoving her into the room and pushing against her weight to shut and lock the door visibly took everything he had. “Holy shit!”

I can’t end up like these women, selling my body for a living. She sobbed her heart out, frightened, alone and feeling hopeless and desperate in the dank, awful bedroom he’d tossed her in. No way will I become one of them. I have to find my way out of here somehow. Whatever I do, I’ll have to do on my own, but how? I don’t have a cent, and with no money I can’t travel. At home, she prayed often, kneeling before the altar at her village church or the small statue of the Virgin Mary in the tiny living room at home, asking the Lord for the means to help lift her family out of poverty. She always looked toward the future, hopeful and determined to make her family’s lives better.

****

“It oughta be something we can do…something to keep that chile from gettin’ into this mess. Just because me and the rest of us done lived like this don’t mean we shouldn’t try to keep her from having her life ruined like us. What is our lives worth? I wish many a day I hadn’t got hooked up like this. However, a bad background pushed me into it, and drugs keep me in it. Juan and all the pimps know that, and that’s why they keep a supply of drugs comin.”

“We can’t do nothing. She’s locked in there!”one of the other black women worriedly chimed in.

“But guess what?” Althea leaned in and was almost whispering. “I got a key. Y’all don’t know, but I used ta be Juan’s woman. He put my a…out in this mess, needed my a…for profit. Back then, though, he trusted me more than he did any of the girls. Whenever he went somewhere, he’d hand me the keys to this crummy joint so I could lock up things. This is something the very first time I laid hands on the keys, so I went and got some made. Okay?”

****

Carlotta could clearly hear the women gathered in the tiny front room down the small hallway from where she was. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t understand them. The women’s voices made her feel less isolated, and even warmed her spirit. Especially when she recognized the black woman’s voice she’d mistaken for a Latina. The ceiling light bulb barely lit the darkened bedroom where she sat on the side of the dirty bed, exhausted, fearful, and sobbing desperately.

Now, knowing what a scoundrel her uncle was, she was surprised he hadn’t approached her sexually. She had to find a way out of there, and her mind swam with thoughts about a way to escape, causing more fear to close in around her.

The women’s voices combined with the activity from the women and their johns seemed to come from a distant eerie place throughout the evening and into the night. She could feel her own fear filling up the dark room she would share with three others. She prayed on her knees before a cot in the room. Lord, please help me leave this place. Please help me get back home to my family, she also thanked God that he’d spared her this first night. Suddenly, she heard a key turn and saw the door open on a shadowy figure entering the room. She began trembling and scarcely breathing from fear.

“Hey, it’s me, Althea, the black woman.”

Carlotta breathed and made a sign of the cross, then raced over to the woman and put her arms around her. Althea responded with a hug and for a moment, rocked her. “Girl, you don’t belong here. Listen, me and the other women came up with a plan to help you outta here. Now we gotta do it quick before anything happens to you.”

Carlotta didn’t understand a word she said, but she sensed the woman who’d hugged and rocked her earlier, as well as now, was there for her benefit only. When the woman reached out and handed her a wad of bills, she knew for sure she had come to rescue her.

“You special, young, and pretty as you is, girl. You gone be his cash cow. I knows, ‘cause, well, let’s just say I know. He plannin’ to cash in on you, ’cause you gone really bring in the johns. After I know everything I need to know, I’ll let you know about tomorrow just how we gone do this.” She’d tried animatedly mouthing her words, apparently hoping it might help translate what she was saying. “To-morr-row, we will come get you and take you away from here.”

Carlotta grabbed hold of her, the two began rocking, and rocking until Althea told her she’d better get out of there before Juan came back and caught her.

****

Juan Rivera, having spotted two young men looking at the display window from where he stood inside the storefront, quickly told Carlotta, “It’s time,” and shoved the tearful, lovely girl through the curtain. The pathetic looking young woman entered the display window crying.

****

Mike stopped short when he saw the girl. Oh my goodness, what a beautiful sad girl. Why am I attracted to her like this? Nineteen-year-old Michael Bradley couldn’t believe it when he watched the girl slowly step through a sheer filthy curtain and sit down on the nasty-looking carpet in the storefront display window. She appeared to be Mexican, was around five feet seven, slender with a smooth, olive complexion, with large, dark eyes, and her black hair was long and fell in heavy waves and curls down back and over her shoulders. The young startling beauty looked terribly afraid and ashamed and out of place, as if someone had forced her to appear on that ugly stage. I’d like to wring the neck of whoever brought her into this. You can see she’s not here of her own free will. I just wish I were in a position to do something about this. His emotions were turning to aggression.

He was visiting his best bud that lived in the area, and had happened upon a side street in Will’s Chicago community. “Man, Wow! Hey, Mike, I wish I had a couple of bucks. That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Will said.

“Man, let’s move on!” Michael instantly reacted, feeling he couldn’t stand any condemnation even from his very best bud about the vulnerable young woman he felt had just stolen his heart.

****

“Why am I doing this, Lord? Why am I going here? I want to turn around, but I can’t.” Reverend Robert Peterson couldn’t understand why he was walking down a strange seedy street that was certainly a long way from his church or home.

Reverend Peterson, the imminent minister of St. Matthew Presbyterian Church located in an old, prestigious section of Chicago, couldn’t imagine where something was taking him. He’d started out from his suburban home for his usual stroll when he felt something steering him. Totally mystified, he found himself stepping onto a transit bus, reaching into his pocket and paying the fare, and sitting down just as anyone else would do. Soon, he realized he was headed in a direction carrying him from his nice surroundings to steadily declining Chicago areas. Then, he felt a push from somewhere that forced him to get up from his seat and leave the bus.

He left and began walking down a street that seemed truly depraved. He felt waves of disgrace and disgust rolling over him and he silently prayed. “Lord, why am I doing this?”

Suddenly, he was standing in front of a storefront and gasped at what he saw. A beautiful young girl was crying, frantically resisting a man pushing her out onto a filthy storefront window floor. “God forbid! She can’t be fifteen. I can’t walk away and do nothing! This is what the Lord wanted me to see! He felt such pity for the sad girl being abused and forced against her will that his eyes filled with tears. “I have to go to Betsy about this! God willing, we will do something to get this girl out of this!” He made that vow right there on the street, then turned immediately and walked as swiftly as his feet could carry him. His mind was set on getting home and telling his wife and getting involved right away to save that forlorn girl he’d just seen.

“Betsy, I just have to do something about a disturbing thing I just witnessed. There’s a young girl we need to rescue from a brothel,” Reverend Peterson breathlessly blurted out to his wife.

“What? A brothel and nothing’s been done to clear it away? How could you tell that’s what it was?” Betsy asked, a look of being truly disturbed and disgusted on her face.

Noticing the grimace on her face, the Reverend said, “Yes. It’s disgusting! It’s operating out of a storefront business attracting men. A man who looks Hispanic is a looking for customers. Just as I was approaching the place, I saw this guy pushing a girl through a curtain into the storefront window! The girl looks to be the same as the man, of Central or South American descent. She can’t be any more than fifteen years old. I won’t be able to live with myself if we don’t rescue this child. This is something much closer to home than our outreach, rescuing children from the sex slave market in other countries.”

“Robert, this is totally awful. You’re absolutely right. I can’t stand to think what’s happening to her,” she said, wiping away tears. “We must do something.”

“I agree. This is America, and such atrocities should not be happening here. We must rescue this hapless girl. Anyway, as a man of God, it’s part of my mission to take action.

“You must move quickly, so go there right away. Don’t lose any time for someone…”

She stopped. He knew she would be unable to think or speak about what could happen. She had worked with the United Nations and other organizations that were helping exploited children in third world countries. He knew she was aware what was happening to the young girl. “If we do this, we must keep everything concealed to protect her character. She shouldn’t have to bear any humiliation because of what she’s been through, being victimized. It must be kept secret from everyone in the church and from everyone in general. Even Benjamin must never know how miserable life has been for the young woman.”

“But Benjamin’s our son. Doesn’t he deserve to know?”

“No, not even he needs to be told.”

“I can promise we’ll give her lots of love, my dear. Lots of love!” his wife said firmly.

He reached across the sofa and lovingly took her into his arms and kissed her. “This is why I love you so! I want you to come with me. It’s sure to soften matters for the young woman to see you and that friendly way you have so naturally.”

“You know, you have a point. She’s bound to be frightened of everything at this point. I’ll go,” she said, rising to get ready to leave with him.

As she was leaving the room, he said, “You got me, didn’t you? You can win over anyone. You got me, didn’t you?” he repeated, then laughed.

“The easiest thing I ever did!” she jokingly hollered back.

Reverend Peterson had returned to the storefront, driving this time and getting back there in record time—a couple of times ignoring speed limits. “Release this girl to me and my wife, who’s with me, and I’ll pay you generously.

Rivera looked with shock to see Reverend Peterson standing there when he answered the doorbell. Earlier, when he saw the minister turn and hurry away, he’d assumed he wasn’t interested. It was the farthest thing from his thoughts that he would return. The fact that he wanted to make a proposition to buy Carlotta’s freedom astounded him even more. He didn’t know what the world was coming to.

Rivera was swift to accept the offer, recognizing that his business was sinking lower and lower and that his young beautiful niece couldn’t rejuvenate matters with the women on hand he referred to as old bags. He quickly nodded that a deal had been reached.

****

“My ministry obligates me to rescue her, and any others being denigrated the way this poor girl is, as well as any other children being sexually exploited, or caught up in the slave trade. My wife and I will say nothing about what you’ve done if you promise to leave Chicago, never to return, and make a promise that your sex trade will never involve children. If you break that vow, I will report you to the police wherever you are. Do you understand me?” Reverend Peterson ordered.

“Si, senor, I understand. I will leave here right away. For that matter, I will clean up my life.. This is a hard business to be in,” Rivera said with his thick Spanish accent. “I receive threats from Johns, and the police all of the time. I believe that what you’re doin’ is a good thing for my Carlotta.” Then, he said quickly, “Uh, how much you willing to pay? For the right amount, I will just disappear.”

“Where will you go?” Peterson was frank and there was insistence in his tone. “I hope not to some place to set up this type of business again. If I ever find out that you…”

Rivera hunched his shoulders.

“So long as you’re not taking children and using them as prostitutes,” Reverend Peterson told him, then more emphatically said, “I’d better not hear about you trafficking children ever again. Do you understand me, Juan? Not here or anywhere!”

After he’d given Rivera the money, Reverend Peterson walked over to his wife Betsy who was in the car and gave her the great news that Carlotta was gathering her things and would be coming home with them.

Hearing the incredible news, Betsy could only shake her head with tears of joy coming down her face.

“Carlotta, this is my wife Betsy, the nicest, kindest woman on earth.”

Betsy reached out to her instantly and warmly enveloped her in her arms, ignoring how resistant she seemed, with her shoulders hunched and shaking.

Immediately after the embrace, Carlotta backed away and just stood looking warily at the two people she knew nothing about. She wished the black woman had had the chance to help her leave the brothel. She trusted her.

“Here, let me take that to the car,” Reverend Peterson told Carlotta, while taking the small suitcase that contained her meager belongings from her.

“You’re just as pretty as Robert said,” Betsy stated, going to her and giving her a warm embrace again. “We want you to come live with us.” She used her hands to motion what she wanted to convey. “We are so happy you’re going to live with us,” she said with a wide grin as if to emphasize.

For some reason, Carlotta felt a brace around her feelings letting go. That didn’t mean she felt secure and trusted them, but she had the sense that they were people she might not have reason to question and reject. Reverend Peterson wasn’t dressed as a man of the cloth, but she felt a willingness to believe him when he identified himself as one. In an uncanny way, he reminded her of her village priest.

Outside of her parents, throughout her life, she’d trusted her priest more than she’d trusted any other human being. She had the feeling she could let go of the wariness, and trusting Betsy and Robert Peterson she went with them to the car and they kindly helped her get in the backseat.

As they were riding, Carlotta felt a sense of welcome with Betsy’s cheery voice chatting away, though she understood nothing she was saying. She settled down in the car, feeling she had nothing to worry about, but a greater feeling came from the fact that she was no longer in the hands of the evil one, Juan Rivera.

“Carlotta, this is your home. Welcome!” Betsy and Robert Peterson happily announced together after coming into incredible surroundings and stopping.

Carlotta’s mouth flew open to gaze upon a home bigger and more beautiful than any she’d ever even stepped foot in, and to know that she would live there was beyond anything she could have imagined.

“Many, many thanks,” she told them in Spanish as tears streamed down her face, feeling at that moment a much better life springing up inside of her.

****

Please let her come through that curtain. Michael Bradley could hear his heart pleading. He hadn’t slept all night with thoughts about the girl he’d seen in the brothel storefront window the day before. Desperate as he was to see the startling beauty whose name he did not know, the very next day he’d returned early and alone. Nothing seemed to be moving and inside appeared dark. Nothing could describe his deep disappointment.

Did the police come and shut it down? He began to worry about all of the possible things that might keep him from ever having at least a glimpse of her again. After waiting around outside the location almost an hour, hoping for some sign of life, he finally went up to the door and rang the bell. He realized that just as he thought, the place had been shut down. Damn! Why? Why? Why didn’t I do something yesterday? He’d been so intent on having an encounter with her, reason had escaped him…and he was known for his reasoning ability.

He had given limited thought to what he would do about her, and helping her in any way. How much he could do, with his meager means. That was how much the image of her had overpowered him. All he knew was that he wanted to take her away from this horrible place and have her be with him. A feeling of deep despair came over him thinking that the chance to see her, talk to her, be with her was never going to happen. He knew that he would never be able to erase her from his thoughts. That day in 1990 as he sadly walked away from the desolate storefront, the thought occurred that maybe, just maybe she’d left the prostitution business and gone somewhere where she would be safe and able to have a good, decent life.