by VC Andrews
I started to stand.
“Don’t go yet,” Tía Isabela said, and I sat back. “What did she ask you to do for her before she gave you that bracelet? What is she paying you to do?”
“Nothing,” I said. She hadn’t asked me to do anything for her.
“I don’t like it. It smells rotten. Don’t trust her,” she said.
How could a mother have such a low opinion of her own daughter? Usually, mothers were notorious for avoiding their children’s weaknesses and faults.
“Remember,” she added, finishing her glass of wine in a gulp and rising, “I warned you.”
She turned and left me sitting there, wondering if somehow I had, as Grandmother Anabela would say, gone from the pot to the fire. After a moment, I rose and went upstairs to my room, too. I wanted to read my new letter from Abuela Anabela right away, but I wasn’t there a minute before Sophia came in, closing the door softly behind her. I put the letter in with my ESL workbook and turned to her.
“Did you hear that?” she asked me, wiping her eyes with a tissue. “Did you hear what’s happened to my brother, to Edward? He’s going to lose an eye!” She held her hand over her right eye for emphasis.
“Yes, it is very sad,” I said.
“It’s more than just sad. It’s horrible,” she said, flinging her tissue to the floor. She paced in front of me. “And it’s all Bradley Whitfield’s fault, all of it. I hate him. I hate the air he breathes,” she said, and turned quickly to me. “Don’t you? Don’t you just hate him now?”
“I do not want to see him ever,” I admitted. It was the closest I could come to saying I hated him.
“You’re being too kind,” she said, with the thrust of an accusation. “You’re not going to go preach this forgiveness junk, now, are you? I know you’re way more religious than I am, but you can’t do that. You just can’t, not with my brother in the hospital and losing an eye. An eye!”
“I have heard that to be forgiving is good, but I have also been told perdonar a una persona mala es de permitirlo a ser malo.”
“What the hell does that mean, Delia? You know I barely can say buenas noches.”
“It means to forgive an evil person is to let him be evil.”
She smiled. “Yes, exactly. That’s more like it. We can’t forgive him. I agree. We don’t let Bradley be evil. Exactly. I knew you were okay.” She stared at the floor a moment, pressing her lips together so hard her bloated cheeks looked as if they would explode. “What about the fiesta for Ignacio’s sister? Where is it?” she asked, looking up quickly at me.
I told her the address.
“That’s like Little Tijuana. Good. Go.”
“Why did you want to know?”
“Never mind. Don’t worry. I’m going to look after you better now and make sure no one takes advantage of you ever again,” she said. “I promise.” She smiled and suddenly hugged me. “Poor Edward,” she said. She knuckled another tear away, smiled again, and said, “I’ll talk to you later.” She hurried out as if she had forgotten something important.
I shook my head in amused confusion. Sophia had hugged me and said she cared about me, but was Tía Isabela right about her? Never trust her? Why was everything so complicated here? It was as if I had walked onto a stage. Everyone was playing a part, and you couldn’t tell who anyone really was. It reminded me of how simple my life had been back in Mexico. Even more eagerly, I went to Abuela Anabela’s letter. This one was shorter, her writing harder to read.
My dearest Delia,
You must be doing wonderful things there, and as I had hoped, you surely must have won your aunt Isabela’s heart. Today, I received another money order from her attorney in California. I have put it with the other one, and when I can, I will go to the bank or perhaps have Señor Cortez do it for me. You know how he loves having a responsibility.
You must not worry about me. I am glad you are learning English quickly. Your mother and father would be so proud and happy.
Señora Cuevas asked after you and was so pleased to hear your good news.
I send you all my love.
Abuela Anabela
How quickly I read all her words. It was more painful to have this brief contact with her than no contact at all, I thought, for all it did was make me long to hear her voice, see her face, and have her hold me in her arms that much more. My chest ached, and my tears flowed. At least, my aunt was telling the truth. She was sending money to Abuela Anabela. My coming here had done some good after all.
I read and reread the letter five times before finally folding it up and putting it with the other one, stroking them both gently, as if I were stroking my grandmother’s arm and seeing her smile. I even closed my eyes and felt her kiss me on the forehead. I could hear her whisper her love for me. Homesickness was like a knife in my heart.
It took me a while to settle down enough to be able to do my assignments in my ESL workbooks. I was far ahead of most everyone in the class now. The last thing Señorita Holt had said to me before I left for the day was that I had what she called a propensity for learning languages. She complimented me on my grasp of pronunciation, too. She was thrifty when it came to spending compliments on her students, so to hear one so flattering was encouraging. It was the true highlight of my otherwise most difficult day.
At dinner, Tía Isabela asked both Sophia and me if we wanted to accompany her to the hospital to visit Edward. Sophia claimed she had too much homework and tests to study for. Tía Isabela swung her eyes to me and smiled, as if to say, Have you ever heard a bigger lie? I simply said I would go.
Once again, the two of us sat in the rear of the Rolls-Royce. This time, however, Tía Isabela talked to me in español all the way to the hospital—so Señor Garman could not eavesdrop, I thought.
“Sophia likes to think she is a strong, independent young woman, but she’s very weak when it comes to doing substantial or important things. She can’t face adversity, trouble, and she has a very low tolerance for pain and discomfort. She hates any responsibility. It’s all her father’s fault. He spoiled her rotten until the day he died,” she said.
“When did he die?” I asked. I was almost afraid to speak, afraid she would stop talking to me if I dared ask a question.
“A little more than ten years ago. She was five, and Edward was seven. I admit that he spent more time with the two of them than I did, but I had to spend my time learning how to be a norteamericana. I had to educate myself to be socially sophisticated, intelligent about art and clothes and food. I didn’t have as much time for Edward and Sophia as my husband did. Anyway, children were more important to him.”
How could children not be more important to their mother? I wanted to ask but dared not.
“He was more like a grandfather than a father because of his illness.”
“What was his illness?”
“He was a heavy smoker all his life and had what is called emphysema, and by the time he realized he had it, it had caused severe damage to his lungs. He was the most depressing sight to see, walking around with a portable oxygen tank strapped to his body, those ugly things in his nose. It got so he couldn’t walk up the stairs. He had to sleep in a guest room downstairs, not that I wanted him in my bedroom wheezing and gasping all night. Toward the end, Edward would push him about in a wheelchair. He aged years in weeks.
“And do you want to know something stupid? He still smoked until the day he died. Tell that to your Mexican friends who start smoking even as early as six. Don’t deny it. I know I did it, and so did my girlfriends when I lived there, but it was always a dirty habit to me, making your teeth yellow.”
“It’s not only Mexican children who do that,” I told her, but she ignored me and ranted and raved about Sophia, who had grown up seeing her father degenerate and still went off sneaking cigarettes or worse.
“Up until now, I haven’t caught her, and she hasn’t been caught with marijuana, but I know she uses it. The best thing you can do for her is help me catch her
with it. The moment you see one of those joints or whatever they call them, you come get me, understand? You owe me, and this is how you will repay me,” she declared.
“She’s too smart for her own good. No one has a more deceitful, deceptive, and conniving child than I have. She’s bound to do something serious to embarrass this family. We must prevent it. We must protect our family name, Delia,” she said, implying now that I was part of the family that had to be protected. “If you understand anything I’m saying, you should understand that.
“I warned her many times. I told her I would send her away to a behavior camp where she would be locked up if she was caught doing any of those drugs or worse, and I will, too. Secretly, of course. I can’t have her besmirch my reputation in this community.
“Are you listening to me?” she suddenly asked, loudly and forcefully.
“Yes, Tía Isabela.”
“You’d better, because I’ll send you off as quickly as I send her. You could end up in some federal detention center,” she warned. “Oh, I feel like I’m keeping my finger in the dike,” she moaned. “If he knew he wasn’t going to live long, why did he spoil them so much and leave me with this mess?”
She wasn’t asking me. Was she asking God? Did she ever pray? Why were there no crosses or religious icons anywhere in the house? I knew Señor Dallas was not a Catholic, but didn’t he have any religion? Dare I ask that now?
She stared out the window for a few moments and then turned to look at me, shaking her head. “I can’t believe she just up and gave you that bracelet. The only thing Sophia gives freely is grief.”
I put my hand over the bracelet. Perhaps I should not wear it when I was with Tía Isabela, I thought. It brought only anger and unhappiness out of her.
“Why is it I feel like I’m waiting for the second shoe to drop?” she muttered.
Once again, I found myself feeling sorrier for her than I was feeling for myself.
When we arrived at the hospital, she walked more slowly, allowing me to stay alongside her. The hospital staff who saw us greeted her and wished her good luck with Edward. She still had him in a private room with a private nurse, but when we started down the corridor, we saw the private nurse at the nurses’ station laughing and talking with the other nurses.
“I’m glad I’m paying her so much money to watch over Edward,” Tía Isabela said angrily.
As soon as Edward’s nurse saw her, she shot toward us.
“His friend Jesse is with him,” she told us. She acted like someone being caught goofing off. “Being they’re young men, I thought they’d like to have some time to chatter. He’s still a little out of it,” she added, “but the nausea is gone.”
Tía Isabela didn’t respond. She glanced at me, nodded as if we shared a deep secret, and headed to Edward’s room. I walked in beside her.
Jesse was sitting next to the bed and holding Edward’s hand. The moment we entered, however, he let his hand go and rose.
“Hello, Mrs. Dallas,” he said.
Tía Isabela stared without speaking. I knew what she was thinking—two young men holding hands.
Jesse continued, nervously rattling on. “He’s not nauseous anymore, but he’s still a little uncomfortable…chilled. I’ve been helping him sip liquids. That’s what his nurse wanted. He’s not in any pain, but…”
“Hello, Mother,” Edward said.
“Edward.”
“Who’s with you?”
“Just Delia,” she said. “Sophia was concerned about her schoolwork.”
“Good. Avoiding me might make her a better student,” Edward said. Jesse laughed. “Hola, Delia,” Edward continued, smiling. “Cómo está?”
“Bien, Edward, and you?”
“I’m peachy keen, right, Jesse?”
Jesse didn’t reply.
“I hear from Jesse that you have made arrangements for Delia’s going and coming from school. Garman’s taking her and picking her up?”
“Yes, Edward.”
“That’s very considerate of you, Mother. How’s Sophia taking it? I imagine she has to ride the bus.”
“Don’t be ludicrous, Edward. Casto is seeing to her transportation to and from school.”
“Casto? And she hasn’t thrown a tantrum?”
“I didn’t say that,” Tía Isabela said. Edward smiled.
“I would like to spend a few minutes alone with my son,” Tía Isabela said, “to discuss his operation.”
“Oh, right,” Jesse said, standing quickly again.
“Why alone?”
“I’d like it that way, Edward.”
“Uh-oh, I hear something ominous in your tone of voice, Mother.”
Tía Isabela looked at Jesse, who moved quickly toward the door.
“I’ll just go for a soda,” Jesse said. “Delia, would you like a soda, too?”
“What’s the word for soda, Delia?” Edward asked me.
“Edward, do you mind if we get to more serious matters? I have things to do,” Tía Isabela said.
“Soda?” Edward insisted.
“Soda,” I said, and he laughed.
Jesse raised his eyebrows and looked at Tía Isabela.
“I don’t mind their staying to hear the news, Mother,” Edward said. “Really. In fact, I think I’d like them to stay, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well, if you insist.” She moved closer to his bed. “Mostly, your operation went well, Edward, but Dr. Fryman is not optimistic about the recovery of your right eye.”
“Shouldn’t that be ophthalmistic or something?” Edward asked.
“This is not a joke, Edward. Your behavior, your recklessness, has caused you severe injury. I hope you’ve learned something from it. First, it wasn’t your place to go rushing off like some vigilante to punish Bradley Whitfield.”
“Why, would you have done something about it, Mother? Did what he did to Delia bother you enough?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t given as much information as you were, and if I was given that information, I certainly wouldn’t have rushed off like some lunatic. There are ways to do things and ways not to do things, but unfortunately, that’s not the issue at the moment.”
“It’s exactly the issue. It will always be or should always be the issue. Delia’s family now, our family. She’s living in our home. She deserves our protection. All I was trying to do was make sure she had that.”
“Oh, please. Don’t be ridiculous and dramatic, Edward. You have set yourself back considerably with your education, your future, your…”
“Your reputation,” Edward finished for her.
Tía Isabela pulled her shoulders back. “I’m not here to argue with you, Edward. We have to concentrate now on doing what we can to help you. I’m making arrangements for some home tutoring. You won’t be attending school for some time.”
“I don’t need home tutoring. Jesse will bring me the work every day and help me keep up.”
“That’s hardly—”
“It’s what I’d like, Mother. And I expect Delia will be tutoring me in Spanish now. El español, Delia, sí?”
“Sí,” I said, smiling.
“Impressed, Mother? Jesse’s learned some Spanish for me. We both decided we should have a working familiarity with the language. I never understood why you prevented it in the first place.”
“That’s enough nonsense,” Tía Isabela said. “I’m going now to talk to your doctors and nurses and see about the plans for your release from the hospital, what arrangements, medications, and other things Dr. Fryman will be leaving with his instructions. I expect you’ll be coming home the day after tomorrow.”
“Whatever,” Edward said.
The moment she walked out, Edward reached out and called for me, and I took his hand.
“Tell me how school went for you today,” he said. “Cómo estaba la escuela hoy? How’s that, Jesse?”
“Impressive.”
“I bet your amigos were surprised to see you brought there in a Rol
ls-Royce, huh, Delia?”
“Sí,” I said. “But Sophia was the most surprised,” I added, and both he and Jesse laughed.
“That’s a beautiful bracelet you have, Delia,” Jesse said. Because I was still holding Edward’s hand, my wrist and bracelet were quite obvious.
“What bracelet?” Edward asked. He felt for it. “Where did you get that?”
“Sophia gave it to me,” I said.
He pulled his fingers away as if the bracelet had become too hot to touch.
“Sophia gave you something? That? I don’t believe it. No creo,” Edward said.
“She did,” I said.
He turned toward Jesse. “You’d better keep your eye on things, Jess. When my sister starts giving things away, something’s not kosher.”
“Will do,” Jesse said. “Don’t worry.”
Nevertheless, Edward suddenly looked more uncomfortable.
“Some nausea?” Jesse asked.
“Yeah, a little. I’m not sure if it’s an aftereffect of the anesthesia or my mother’s visiting me.”
“I’ll go tell the nurse,” Jesse said, and hurried out.
Edward held on to my hand again. “Be careful, Delia,” he whispered. “You know what is careful?”
“Sí, Edward.”
“Good,” he said. “Good.” His fingers weakened, and he turned away. “You’d better go,” he said. “I’m feeling sick, and it might not be pleasant.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry. Really, I am.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
I left just as his private nurse came rushing back into the room.
Edward didn’t realize it, I’m sure, but I had meant that I was sorry for everything.
Jesse was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, his eyes gazing at the floor.
“Jeez,” he said when I approached. “He’s losing an eye. I know we should be grateful he wasn’t killed, but I know he’s just putting on a brave front, trying to look fuerte, strong.”
He looked as if he would break out in tears. I gazed down the hallway at my aunt, who was still talking to a doctor. She would not appreciate a young man being so emotional, I thought, especially with all of her suspicions. I put my hand on his arm.
