by VC Andrews
“The only reason my mother is upset,” Edward told Jesse, “is that now she’ll really be pressured to buy my sister her car.”
“She’ll hate me for it,” I said.
“She’ll get over it,” Edward assured me. “She’s hated me before, too. Don’t worry.”
“Just concentrate on your wonderful evening,” Jesse said.
When we entered the house, we saw Sophia stumping up the stairway with Alisha. Tía Isabela had returned to her office or bedroom.
“Jesse’s right, Delia. You should start thinking about dressing for your party,” Edward said. He looked in the direction his mother had gone. “Jesse will help you up the stairs. I’m going to speak with the queen.”
“Make sure she knows I did not ask for such a gift,” I called to him.
He laughed and walked off. We started up the stairway. When we got to my room, my phone was ringing. Jesse hurried ahead of me to answer it.
“And who’s this?” he responded to obviously the same question. He listened. “Well, I’m Miss Yebarra’s valet. I’ll call her to the phone,” he said in an exaggerated correct voice.
It was Adan. “Do you really have a valet?”
“No, it’s just my cousin Edward’s friend, Jesse. They have helped me today.”
“You will go to the party, then?”
“I think I’ll feel foolish, but yes,” I said. “I will go.”
“Great. I’ll be by at seven. It’s still just you in my car, right?”
“More than right,” I said, laughing to myself. I couldn’t imagine Sophia sitting next to me. “Oh, wait. How will I get my crutches into such a small car?”
He thought a moment. “Good point. I’ll be there in one of my sedans,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Gracias.”
“Es nada, señorita. Hasta luego.”
“Yes, see you soon.”
When I hung up, I thought about Edward’s warning.
“This lady’s man,” I asked Jesse. “How does such a man behave?”
“You’ll see,” he said. “Trust in yourself, Delia. Is there anything else you need right now?”
“No, thank you, Jesse.”
“We’ll be up to help you down and see you off,” he said, and left.
For a long moment, I just stood there, reeling from the shock of it all. I went to the window and looked down to be sure the car was really there and it hadn’t all just been a dream. The sun glittered off its hood. It was truly wonderful, but then I thought, how would I explain such a gift, and what would people, especially my fellow students, think when Sophia told them it was Edward who had bought the car for me? Wouldn’t this just make matters worse?
Should I care?
Having my own car meant I could drive out to see the Davilas anytime I wanted. It would give me great freedom. I might even…think of driving to Mexico. Would I dare? What if I were followed or caught? I must get hold of myself and not be too ambitious. I could be like the mythical Icarus, who was given the power and wonder of flight with feathers stuck to him with wax. He was warned not to fly too high, but he did. The sun melted his wax wings, and he fell into the sea.
Would I now fly too high?
My heart raced with fear as much as with joy. Just get dressed, Delia, I told myself. Prepare for your party, and, like an acrobat walking a tightrope, don’t think about it, and don’t look down. Go forward.
By the time Edward and Jesse returned to see how I was doing, I was dressed and ready but sitting before my vanity mirror and staring through the image I saw of myself, staring at the face of my mother. With my thoughts so devoted to my own appearance and happiness, I suddenly had the terrifying feeling that I was letting my mother die the third death. All of these events, my life here, the images of new people coming into my life, pushed my past down deeper and deeper into that abyss of forgetfulness, the land of lost memories where loved ones cry out to have their names on your lips.
I am in danger of becoming someone else, I thought. Was this natural? Did everyone undergo such severe changes? Just when I had turned into a butterfly, my mother, whose loving smile and embrace carefully had guided me, was taken from me. I needed her then, and I needed her desperately now. My grandmother, as loving and concerned about me as she was, could not help me understand all of the emotions that swirled under my breast in an electric circle. My own face and body had begun to dazzle me. I had to touch my cheek to confirm that it was truly Delia in the mirror. Something very strong and dramatic had changed inside me. It was as if I were watching the evaporation of my childhood take place right before my own eyes and, with it, the thinning and diminishing of my past, including those I had loved.
“No,” I cried as I saw my face returning and my mother’s disappearing. “Don’t leave me now.”
Then came the knock on my door. I sucked back my tears and took a deep breath.
“Yes?”
“Hey,” Edward said, opening the door and peering into my room. “How are you doing?”
“I’m still nervous about going to this party,” I confessed.
They both entered.
“I love the way you did your hair,” Jesse said.
Edward put mi tía Isabela’s chapeau on me and stepped back.
“Perfect. You really look beautiful, Delia,” he said. “There’s no reason for you to be nervous. It will be a fun party, I’m sure. And we’ll be here for you. You just call us if you need us.”
“I don’t know, Edward. I feel…”
“It’s too late. Someone’s downstairs waiting for you,” Jesse sang.
“He’s already here?”
“And down there talking with my mother, so don’t let him wait too long,” Edward said. “She could turn Casanova into a monk.”
Jesse laughed and went for my crutches. “C’mon. Don’t let Sophia get the better of you,” he said. “If you don’t go to the party, you’ll only give her a victory.”
“I don’t care about her victories,” I said, even though I knew deep inside I did. I took the crutches and stood.
Edward opened the door, and Jesse stood beside me.
“We could carry you down, if you like,” Jesse said when I didn’t move. He made as if to lift me.
“No! I’m going. I’m going.”
They both laughed.
We started out and down the stairs. I looked back at Sophia’s room.
“I have a suspicion she might not go,” Edward said, seeing where I was looking. “Drop her from your thoughts.”
Adan rose immediately from the sofa and looked at us as we descended. Mi tía Isabela was sitting across from him and looked up as well.
“Ridiculous,” I heard her say. “Going to a party like this on crutches.”
“You once went to a formal dinner with your arm in a sling,” Edward reminded her.
“That was different. I was recuperating from a rotor-cuff operation, not from falling down a stairway.”
No one spoke for a moment. Then Adan stepped closer to take my hand. “You look fantastic,” he said, “and I love that hat. Very French.” He kissed my hand. “Enchanté,” he said.
I glanced at Tía Isabela. Her eyes widened so that I nearly laughed.
“Oh,” Adan continued, “and congratulations on your car. It’s beautiful. I was thinking of buying the exact one this week, but apparently, according to your aunt, someone beat me to it.” He smiled at Edward.
I thought he looked even more handsome than he had at Fani’s. He was dressed in a tailored tuxedo that gave him a breathtaking elegance. He wore a very expensive-looking gold watch and a diamond pinky ring.
“The car is as much of a surprise to me as to anyone,” I said, looking toward my aunt. She sneered at Edward, looked away a moment, then stood up and came closer to inspect me.
“Where did you get that dress?” she asked, and before I could respond, she turned to Edward and said, “As if I had to ask.”
“The hat really makes the
look, don’t you think, Mother?” he asked her.
I saw her reluctant approval. “Yes, but the dress doesn’t hurt. I know the designer. Well, have a good time, but I would hope,” she said, “not to have any repetition of what occurred last night.”
“Put a chain on Miss Horror, and you won’t,” Edward said.
Adan’s eyes widened. He looked afraid to utter a word. The silence was too heavy, however.
“Let’s be on our way, then,” he said, taking one crutch and offering his arm to replace it. I took it, and we headed for the door.
When I looked back after Adan opened his black sedan’s door for me, I saw Edward and Jesse standing in the entrance looking at me proudly.
“They do look like two mother hens,” Adan muttered, taking my crutches and putting them across the rear seat. “Don’t they have anything better to do?”
“What could be better than looking after me?” I asked him, and he laughed.
“I told you. I love your sense of humor,” he said, and closed the door. He waved to Edward and Jesse and got in. “We’re off,” he said, starting the car and driving away.
As we approached the gate, a sports car came rushing in, nearly driving us off the driveway. I had enough time to see who it was, however.
“Who the hell was that?” Adan asked slowing.
“A boy from school, Christian Taylor,” I said, looking back. Sophia was coming out of the entrance now.
“Your cousin’s date?”
“It looks like it,” I said. I couldn’t imagine Christian being interested in her. They were both up to no good, I was sure.
Only time would tell me what new dagger she had prepared to stick into my heart.
8
The Party
Danielle Johnson’s family estate was as beautiful and as plush as Fani’s but smaller and with no heliport. The pool and the tennis court were visible from the driveway. Adan said the Johnsons had only a nine-hole private golf course. Poor Johnsons, I thought. I could see how going from one wealthy person’s hacienda to another, how living and playing in this world of overabundance, with its servants and gourmet foods, its fountains of wines and glittering gold and diamond accoutrements, could make anyone indifferent to the other world, the world where people struggled to feed themselves, to keep warm and safe. It was truly as if these rich people lived on another planet, and I was like some space traveler who had crossed into another solar system.
As we continued up Danielle’s driveway, I saw valets in black pants and white shirts rushing to park everyone’s cars. French music was piped out of speakers lining the driveway so people who arrived were immediately bathed in the ethnic nature of the party. Like Fani’s home and so many homes of the wealthy here, the front entrance opened to a large courtyard. Tonight, set up inside Danielle’s was a replica of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, with all the lights. Later, I learned the replica was done in exact detail and stood twenty feet tall. It even had a small elevator that actually worked.
“So, what do you really think of all this, Delia?” Adan asked me, waving his hand over the sights unfolding before us.
“If you wanted to drown yourself in wealth, this would be the place to die happy,” I said, and he laughed.
“I’m really impressed with your wit, Delia. I’m losing all of my stereotype assumptions about rural Mexicans. I guess I have been underestimating my own people.”
“And therefore yourself,” I said. “Don’t forget, your father told me where his family originated and where you still have relatives.”
This time, he looked at me less with an expression of amusement and more with an expression of appreciation. The look was so strong it made my heart flutter. A part of me had been afraid of my wanting him to like me this much, and a part of me that I began to sense might be stronger wanted nothing less. At the moment, thoughts of Ignacio were as far away as the moon. Was I slipping off the mountain of faithfulness and love? How far would I fall?
The valet who seized the door handle and opened my door shook me out of my deep thoughts.
“Welcome to the party,” he chimed.
“Got to get something out of the rear,” Adan told him, and hurried around the car to get my crutches. Then he guided me out, and I put them under my arms. “Okay?” he asked.
I nodded and looked at everything going on around us. It was very exciting. Waiters and waitresses dressed in the costumes of French street vendors were not waiting for people to get into the party. They were coming out to greet guests with the hors d’oeuvres and drinks. No alcohol was being served from trays. Adults had to go inside the courtyard and into the house to the bars that had been set up. I did not know what would keep the underage students from our school from getting the alcoholic drinks, but I did see men who looked like security personnel standing off to the sides watching people, especially young people, carefully.
The entryway and the living room of the huge home had been turned into a ballroom in Paris, even with a small stage on the right. Danielle’s father had hired dancers to perform the cancan. They wore costumes as skimpy as possible, and the crowd watching them consisted mostly of the fathers and Danielle’s father’s male friends. Some were smoking cigars, the thin streams of smoke rising in the air and perfuming it with the heavy, rich tobacco aromas. Deeper inside the house were a half-dozen men and women playing small accordions, juggling, and performing magic tricks for the amusement of the guests. There were kiosks of food almost everywhere I looked, ranging from shrimp, chicken, and meat on sticks to lobster and fish displayed on large colorful plates, breads and vegetables, and in one section a variety of French pastries that surely rivaled anything found in Paris itself. The servers wore chefs’ hats.
My first thoughts as I gazed around, drinking in as much of it as I could, was how different from this was a birthday party for a girl Danielle’s age back in my Mexican village. I even recalled the fateful night when I had attended Ignacio’s sister’s birthday party. All of the food was homemade, with friends and family all bringing something. Here, except for the banner over the front of the main house’s entrance that read, “Happy Birthday, Danielle,” nothing else suggested that it was a party in her honor. The invitation had forbidden gifts, with the simple statement that your attendance was gift enough. It could be a New Year’s Eve party if the banner was taken down. Did such a party make her happy or sad? If this was her birthday party, what would her wedding be like?
“There you are!” Danielle cried, clapping her hands and hurrying over to us. Three of her closer friends at school who were also friends of mine trailed along behind her like the tail of a kite. “I’m so happy you could still attend the party despite your accident. Are you in pain?”
“No,” I said, wondering how much she knew about my so-called accident.
“What a beautiful dress, Delia,” Colleen said. The other two agreed, their eyes washed in surprise and envy.
“Thank you.”
Danielle hugged me but saved her best smile for Adan, whom she kissed on both cheeks as a French girl would.
“I’m so happy you could come to my party,” she told him, turning completely away from me, as did the other three. It was as if I had been suddenly changed into a marble statue and no longer commanded even their slightest attention.
“No, it is I who am happy. What a party!”
“Yes, isn’t it wonderful?” Danielle leaned toward him so much I thought he would have to catch her in his arms to keep her from falling. “My father looks for any reason to throw a gala.”
“He did that,” Adan said, shifting so he could be closer to me, and took my hand.
She glanced at me and pulled back. “Fani is talking to my mother,” she said. “In French! She speaks three languages.”
“Four, really,” Adan said. “She can get by with German because of the time her family spent in Berlin.”
“German, too! Don’t you just hate her for being so perfect?”
“If we hated people for be
ing perfect, we’d have to hate you, too, Danielle,” Adan told her, and she beamed again.
“I want to be sure you ask me to dance later.” She nodded at me and looked down at my ankle. “It looks like your date can’t dance tonight. I’m so sorry, Delia.”
Her girlfriends drew closer.
“We all heard about your accident, Delia,” Katelynn said. “How did it really happen?” she asked, with the tone of someone who already knew the answer.
“Oh, not now, girls,” Adan said, stepping between us. “We don’t want to dwell on sad things tonight. It’s Danielle’s birthday party.” He winked at her. “I’ll dance with you later. That’s a promise,” he said. “Right now, I’m dying of thirst.”
She looked at her disappointed girlfriends, who had all been hoping for news bulletins for their gossip. She smiled and stepped aside.
“Of course, you can have something hard to drink, Adan. Just don’t you feed anything alcoholic to the underage girls,” she added, smiling at me. She was clearly implying that he might just get me something.
Adam laughed. “Looking at you girls, it’s getting harder and harder to tell who’s underage,” he said, and her friends practically exploded with glee. “Later,” he added, and pulled me away gently. “Save me,” he whispered. “Get rid of the crutches.”
“I’m not sure that would be enough. They were like hens clucking at a rooster.”
He laughed and plucked a soft drink off one of the trays for me. At one of the bars, he ordered himself a vodka martini. We ate some of the hors d’oeuvres before making our way across the room to join Fani, who immediately introduced us to Danielle’s mother.
“Welcome, Delia. I’m so happy to finally meet Isabela’s niece. I’ve heard so much about you from Danielle and now Fani that I feel I’ve met you already.”
“Merci, Madame Johnson. Je suis honore etre ici.”
Her eyes widened, and she laughed. “Are all you girls so bright and worldly?”
I shook my head, leaned toward her, and confessed that I had memorized the line. She roared with laughter, her face brightening with delight. I thought she was far more beautiful than Danielle. Fani looked at me with the approval of a mother or guardian.
