The Ugly Woman
by Kendra Paredes Hayden
(first appeared in the Louisville Review)
I am an ugly woman. Just the other day, my father told me, “Anita, be content with your
sewing and embroidery because no man will ever come for you.” It was his way of being
good to me. It was his way of telling me not to get my hopes up. I shouldn’t expect marriage
or children. Isn’t this what all men think women want? His advice hurt. I must admit. But I
also must admit that he was right. In Mexico, ugly women are ignored. I believe it has
always been this way and will always be this way all over the world. Who can change this
fact?
He told me this because Luis stayed at our house this weekend. He comes to visit my
brother. Luis is a nice enough man, but he stinks of cigars and alcohol and body odor. My
brothers and my nephews make fun of me every time Luis comes here. They say I bat my
eyes and giggle whenever I am around him. It is funny to them that an ugly woman should
act so unbecoming. They tell my father who believes them. That is why he gave me his
lecture on being ugly and what I shouldn’t expect in life. A father’s biggest shame is an ugly
daughter and especially if that daughter acts like a fool. How could I explain that I do not do
these things? He believes my brothers and my nephews and sees what he thinks he should
see.
After my father spoke with me, I went to the garden to sit by the fountain. The splashing
water was soothing. A red warbler’s song eased my mind. That’s when I saw her. She was
sweeping the pathway that leads to the fountain. I had never seen her before. I thought she
was a new servant in the house. But I am in charge of all household activities. Who could
have hired her? It must have been my father or one of my brothers because she was so
beautiful that all I could do was stare with my mouth hanging open.
She must have felt someone was looking at her because she stopped sweeping and looked
in my direction. It was then that she smiled at me. Her teeth were white, and it is strange
that I noticed, but her gums were so pink and healthy. She was older than I had thought
when I first saw her. I guessed she was around 40. Her eyes were the dark eyes of an
Indian. They were kind and maternal.
“We’ve never met,” I said as I stood.
She bowed her head.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“My name is Lupe, Señorita Anita.”
“Who hired you?”
Just then the chachalacas screeched and took flight from the trees. They flew toward the
setting sun beyond the colored mountains. We both jumped, and then we laughed. I felt
very comfortable around this woman.
“They fly in flocks behind the light, no?” she said. Then Lupe walked off beyond the
flowers. She never told me who hired her. And I didn’t have time to find out. I had a
household to run, dinner to prepare. My mother was ill. I had to tend to her. I would find out.
This house was my business. I knew what went on here. I knew the number of tortillas left
over from breakfast. I knew if the doors were locked. I knew the cost of everything.
That night after a long day I sat in a cane chair on the patio. I rubbed my feet and listened to
the night sounds. Everyone was gone. My sister was visiting her fiancée’s family. The men
were out who knows where. Who cared? My mother was sleeping in bed. The house was
completely dark. I sighed and then spotted a figure in the garden. I was sure it was Lupe.
Who was this strange woman? I asked everyone, but no one knew of a new girl named
Lupe.
I called out. “Lupe, what are you doing? Are you hiding?”
Lupe stepped out from behind a red geranium. I smelled the aroma of frankincense from the
Huele a Noche trees, but I remembered that we had cut them down a year ago. Lupe smiled
sweetly and looked at me with her kind eyes. The moonlight tinged her skin a pale green.
“Would you walk with me in the garden?” she asked.
Normally, I would not have trusted this strange woman who obviously had no permission to
be in my house. I did not need a new friend. I had my girl cousins, some amigas from my
schooldays and my mother. But, for some reason I could not understand, I wanted to talk to
this woman.
“Yes, we could walk,” I said.
We walked away from the house and deeper into the garden. It had been awhile since I had
walked in the garden so late at night. It seemed primitive and overgrown. I thought I must
remind the gardener to take more care of this area. A bright green snake crossed our path.
It stopped and seemed to look up and consider us. Then it slithered slowly away. I could
see an iguana scurrying up a ghostly white cactus. He also stopped to look at us and when
he turned I could see his eyes glowing pink. A blue mockingbird observed us calmly while it
sat in a cuachalala tree with its corky thorn-like projections. The animals were not afraid of
us. They seemed to accept our presence. I felt contentment wash through my chest.
“Lupe, who are you?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and said, “I am a woman like you. How else can I define
myself?”
“No, I mean where do you come from? Who are your people?”
“My people? Why does it matter?” She looked straight ahead. Her step was so graceful that
she seemed to float.
“Can you tell me what you are doing here in my garden? Is there something you need?”
“No,” she said.
We walked deeper into the garden. Everything looked so unfamiliar. A warm breeze blew
through my hair. I washed my hair with the herb cholulo. I could smell its soft earthy scent.
Since she wasn’t much of a talker, I talked. I told her everything about myself––my
childhood, my girlhood, and now my womanhood. I ended by saying, “So that is the story of
an ugly woman. It is not unusual, really. I have ugly cousins. Ugly runs in the family.” We
laughed and leaned towards each other with our shoulders as we walked. “But seriously.
You probably don’t know what I’m talking about. You are so beautiful.”
“Every woman knows what you are talking about, I think,” she said. “Or, at some time, they
will learn.”
She turned to face me. I looked into the deep darkness of her eyes. She embraced me. Her
body was soft and comforting especially after a hard day’s work. Next she kissed me right
on the lips. I was surprised but I didn’t back away.
“You carry a sweet virginal scent untainted by man,” she told me.
That night Lupe showed me how a woman can live alone. She showed me things I was sure
most married women know nothing about. I knew a delicious secret that I would keep to
myself. Forever.
Somehow the following morning, I woke up in my bed. Lupe was gone. I have never seen
her again. Had she been there at all? Or had it all been a dream? I would have to think
about it later. Breakfast had to be made. There were so many chores.
After breakfast, after I served the men in my family, I heard one of them say, “Anita looks
prettier today somehow.”
Another replied, “She is still too ugly to marry.”
They smiled slyly at each other. I looked at each one of them and thought, “Their faces are
so much like mine and they think I am the ugly one.” And then I threw my head back and
laughed. Their smiles dropped from their faces.
by Kendra Paredes Hayden
(first appeared in the Louisville Review)
I am an ugly woman. Just the other day, my father told me, “Anita, be content with your
sewing and embroidery because no man will ever come for you.” It was his way of being
good to me. It was his way of telling me not to get my hopes up. I shouldn’t expect marriage
or children. Isn’t this what all men think women want? His advice hurt. I must admit. But I
also must admit that he was right. In Mexico, ugly women are ignored. I believe it has
always been this way and will always be this way all over the world. Who can change this
fact?
He told me this because Luis stayed at our house this weekend. He comes to visit my
brother. Luis is a nice enough man, but he stinks of cigars and alcohol and body odor. My
brothers and my nephews make fun of me every time Luis comes here. They say I bat my
eyes and giggle whenever I am around him. It is funny to them that an ugly woman should
act so unbecoming. They tell my father who believes them. That is why he gave me his
lecture on being ugly and what I shouldn’t expect in life. A father’s biggest shame is an ugly
daughter and especially if that daughter acts like a fool. How could I explain that I do not do
these things? He believes my brothers and my nephews and sees what he thinks he should
see.
After my father spoke with me, I went to the garden to sit by the fountain. The splashing
water was soothing. A red warbler’s song eased my mind. That’s when I saw her. She was
sweeping the pathway that leads to the fountain. I had never seen her before. I thought she
was a new servant in the house. But I am in charge of all household activities. Who could
have hired her? It must have been my father or one of my brothers because she was so
beautiful that all I could do was stare with my mouth hanging open.
She must have felt someone was looking at her because she stopped sweeping and looked
in my direction. It was then that she smiled at me. Her teeth were white, and it is strange
that I noticed, but her gums were so pink and healthy. She was older than I had thought
when I first saw her. I guessed she was around 40. Her eyes were the dark eyes of an
Indian. They were kind and maternal.
“We’ve never met,” I said as I stood.
She bowed her head.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“My name is Lupe, Señorita Anita.”
“Who hired you?”
Just then the chachalacas screeched and took flight from the trees. They flew toward the
setting sun beyond the colored mountains. We both jumped, and then we laughed. I felt
very comfortable around this woman.
“They fly in flocks behind the light, no?” she said. Then Lupe walked off beyond the
flowers. She never told me who hired her. And I didn’t have time to find out. I had a
household to run, dinner to prepare. My mother was ill. I had to tend to her. I would find out.
This house was my business. I knew what went on here. I knew the number of tortillas left
over from breakfast. I knew if the doors were locked. I knew the cost of everything.
That night after a long day I sat in a cane chair on the patio. I rubbed my feet and listened to
the night sounds. Everyone was gone. My sister was visiting her fiancée’s family. The men
were out who knows where. Who cared? My mother was sleeping in bed. The house was
completely dark. I sighed and then spotted a figure in the garden. I was sure it was Lupe.
Who was this strange woman? I asked everyone, but no one knew of a new girl named
Lupe.
I called out. “Lupe, what are you doing? Are you hiding?”
Lupe stepped out from behind a red geranium. I smelled the aroma of frankincense from the
Huele a Noche trees, but I remembered that we had cut them down a year ago. Lupe smiled
sweetly and looked at me with her kind eyes. The moonlight tinged her skin a pale green.
“Would you walk with me in the garden?” she asked.
Normally, I would not have trusted this strange woman who obviously had no permission to
be in my house. I did not need a new friend. I had my girl cousins, some amigas from my
schooldays and my mother. But, for some reason I could not understand, I wanted to talk to
this woman.
“Yes, we could walk,” I said.
We walked away from the house and deeper into the garden. It had been awhile since I had
walked in the garden so late at night. It seemed primitive and overgrown. I thought I must
remind the gardener to take more care of this area. A bright green snake crossed our path.
It stopped and seemed to look up and consider us. Then it slithered slowly away. I could
see an iguana scurrying up a ghostly white cactus. He also stopped to look at us and when
he turned I could see his eyes glowing pink. A blue mockingbird observed us calmly while it
sat in a cuachalala tree with its corky thorn-like projections. The animals were not afraid of
us. They seemed to accept our presence. I felt contentment wash through my chest.
“Lupe, who are you?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders and said, “I am a woman like you. How else can I define
myself?”
“No, I mean where do you come from? Who are your people?”
“My people? Why does it matter?” She looked straight ahead. Her step was so graceful that
she seemed to float.
“Can you tell me what you are doing here in my garden? Is there something you need?”
“No,” she said.
We walked deeper into the garden. Everything looked so unfamiliar. A warm breeze blew
through my hair. I washed my hair with the herb cholulo. I could smell its soft earthy scent.
Since she wasn’t much of a talker, I talked. I told her everything about myself––my
childhood, my girlhood, and now my womanhood. I ended by saying, “So that is the story of
an ugly woman. It is not unusual, really. I have ugly cousins. Ugly runs in the family.” We
laughed and leaned towards each other with our shoulders as we walked. “But seriously.
You probably don’t know what I’m talking about. You are so beautiful.”
“Every woman knows what you are talking about, I think,” she said. “Or, at some time, they
will learn.”
She turned to face me. I looked into the deep darkness of her eyes. She embraced me. Her
body was soft and comforting especially after a hard day’s work. Next she kissed me right
on the lips. I was surprised but I didn’t back away.
“You carry a sweet virginal scent untainted by man,” she told me.
That night Lupe showed me how a woman can live alone. She showed me things I was sure
most married women know nothing about. I knew a delicious secret that I would keep to
myself. Forever.
Somehow the following morning, I woke up in my bed. Lupe was gone. I have never seen
her again. Had she been there at all? Or had it all been a dream? I would have to think
about it later. Breakfast had to be made. There were so many chores.
After breakfast, after I served the men in my family, I heard one of them say, “Anita looks
prettier today somehow.”
Another replied, “She is still too ugly to marry.”
They smiled slyly at each other. I looked at each one of them and thought, “Their faces are
so much like mine and they think I am the ugly one.” And then I threw my head back and
laughed. Their smiles dropped from their faces.
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