Delia's Crossing

by V. C. Andrews

  “We’ll discuss this later, Edward. Now is not the time. Let’s not jump too far ahead,” Tía Isabela said.

  “That’s what I want,” he said sharply.

  The doctor put his hand on Tía Isabela’s arm to get her to stop any possible argument or unpleasantness. She glared at me, spun on her heels, and retreated to a corner of the room.

  “Go wait in the visitors’ lounge,” she told me in Spanish.

  Edward plowed through his pain to smile. “Haven’t heard you speak Spanish in some time, Mother,” he said.

  “Go,” she told me, and I left the room. I had no idea where the lounge was, but I stopped another nurse in the hall and asked, “Where I wait?”

  “The lounge? Oh, go through that door, and turn right,” she said, pointing down the opposite end of the hallway.

  “Gracias. Thank you,” I said, and walked down the hallway.

  In the corridor, standing by the door, was a boy about Edward’s age, wearing a pair of jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a royal-blue sports jacket. His light brown hair was very thick and, although not as long as Edward’s hair, was nearly down to the base of his neck and over his ears. He had it brushed away from his indigo-blue eyes. I thought he had a very gentle, almost angelic smile.

  “Hi,” he said. “You’re Delia, right?”

  “Sí, yes.”

  “I’m a friend of Edward’s, Edward’s amigo. Jesse Butler.” He extended his hand. It was as smooth as mine, with thin fingers. On his pinkie was a black onyx ring with a tiny diamond at the center. “Cómo está Edward?”

  I shook my head and started to explain in Spanish.

  “Whoa, sorry. I just know a little Spanish, un poco español.”

  “His eyes,” I said, moving my hands over my head to explain the bandages. “Bruises,” I added, and ran my fingers over my cheeks, nose, and chin.

  He looked through the window in the door and nodded.

  “The doctor’s in there. Doctor?”

  “Yes,” I said, “and mi tía Isabela.”

  “Oh, right. Okay, I’ll just wait with you,” he said, and nodded at the lounge.

  We went into the lounge. I thought it was very nice that a friend of Edward’s had come right away to see him. He had not mentioned Jesse to me, but he had told me very little about his life, his friends, or even what interested him most to do.

  There were only a few other people in the visitors’ lounge, but one of them was a woman with a little girl who looked no more than three or four. She spoke Spanish to the girl, who focused her beautiful ebony eyes on me and smiled when I smiled. I began to speak to her in Spanish, too, and her mother asked me who I had here. I explained that my cousin was in a car accident, and she told me her sister’s husband had fallen from a scaffold while painting an office building’s window frames. Her sister was in with her husband now, and she was watching their little girl. I asked her if she spoke any English, and she said very little. However, she and her sister and her sister’s husband were not from Mexico. They were from Costa Rica.

  When I asked her how long she had been in the United States, she grew very nervous and mumbled an answer. As if to make things sound okay, however, she told me her sister’s little girl, Drina, had been born here. Jesse, who said he spoke little Spanish, listened keenly to our conversation.

  He leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I think she’s illegal,” he said. “Maybe the parents are, too.”

  I told him Drina was born in America.

  “She’s an anchor baby,” Jesse said.

  I shook my head. “Don’t understand.”

  “Baby born aquí?”

  “Sí.”

  “Illegal parents are anchored to the U.S. because the baby was born here. You know the word anchor?”

  I shook my head.

  “Tied down, like a boat is tied,” he explained, gesturing with his hands.

  “Oh,” I said. “They stay because of the niña.”

  “That’s it.”

  Drina’s tía saw we were talking about them and grew even more nervous. She got up and walked Drina out and down the hallway.

  Moments later, my aunt came into the lounge. “You can go see Edward again,” she told me, and looked at Jesse.

  “Hello, Mrs. Dallas. I’m sorry to hear about Edward’s accident.”

  “Yes. Me, too, Jesse,” she said dryly. “You can go see him, but don’t stay more than fifteen minutes. Bring her down to the cafeteria, please,” she told him, nodding at me. “I’m going to get myself a cup of coffee and something. I haven’t eaten much today, as you might imagine.”

  “I will,” Jesse said.

  He walked out with me, and we entered the floor and went to Edward’s room.

  “Hey, stupid,” Jesse said as we entered.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I figured I’d use you as an excuse to avoid Kasofsky’s pop quiz. What do you think I’m doing here?”

  Edward reached out, and Jesse took his hand. They held on to each other firmly.

  “You look like hell.”

  “You should know what hell looks like.”

  Jesse laughed.

  “Is Delia with you?”

  “Right next to me. So, what happened?”

  “I told you what I suspected about that bastard Whitfield.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it was true. She told me so,” Edward said, and Jesse turned my way. From the look on his face and the few words I had picked up, I understood completely. A wave of shame washed through me and reddened my cheeks.

  “You went after him?”

  “Damn right.”

  “What would you have done if you caught him, Edward? That’s like those dogs who go chasing and barking after trucks. What if they caught up with the truck? What then?”

  He looked at me, but I shook my head. He was speaking too quickly and saying things I didn’t understand.

  “I would have found a way to smash in his face.”

  “Looks like you found a way to smash your own instead,” Jesse said.

  Edward was quiet.

  I noticed they were still holding hands.

  “Make sure she’s all right,” Edward finally said, nodding in my direction. “No telling what my mother might do because of this, and it’s definitely not Delia’s fault.”

  “I’ll check up on her,” Jesse promised.

  “Good.”

  “I guess I’ll have to come around more often, anyway. You’re not exactly rushing out and around again.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What are they going to do?”

  “Operate day after tomorrow on my eyes.”

  Jesse’s face filled with concern; his eyes looked as if they were flooding with tears.

  “Don’t worry,” Edward said, as if he could sense Jesse’s feelings through his hand. “My mother won’t permit the operation to be a failure.”

  Jesse laughed. “I gotta take her down to the cafeteria to meet your mother now. I’ll come by later tonight.”

  “Right.”

  Jesse glanced at me, and then he leaned over and kissed Edward on the cheek. The sight of two young men being so affectionate with each other stunned me for a moment. Jesse smiled at me.

  “Describe the look on her face,” Edward told him.

  “A cross between being electrocuted and finding a pot of gold.”

  Edward laughed and then moaned with the pain. “Hey, Delia,” he said, reaching toward me.

  I moved quickly to take his hand.

  “You hang in there until I get home, okay? Everything will be all right. How do you say everything will be all right in Spanish?”

  “Todo será bien,” I said, and he repeated it and laughed.

  “Ow. It hurts too much to laugh. Get out of here so I can feel sorry for myself,” he told Jesse.

  “Right. See you later.”

  “Hasta la vista, you mean.”

  “Sí,” Jesse said. He touched his hand,
nodded to me, and we walked out.

  He glanced at me with a soft smile as we went to the elevator. “Edward and I like each other very much,” he said when the elevator door closed and we were the only ones in the elevator. “You understand?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You okay about it?” he asked. “Okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s our secret. Secreto,” he said. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” I said. I was still a little too shocked to say much more.

  I followed him out and down the corridor to the cafeteria, where mi tía Isabela was sitting at a table by herself, looking out at the hospital employees, doctors, and nurses with a condescending expression, as if she were in charge of everything and wasn’t entirely pleased.

  “Oh, Jesse,” she said as soon as we approached. “Do me a big favor, will you?”

  “Absolutely, Mrs. Dallas.”

  “Take Delia to her school. I have a beauty-parlor appointment I must get to. My stylist is worse than a doctor when it comes to schedules.”

  “No problem. I’ll be glad to take her,” Jesse said.

  “Good. Thanks. Go with him, and don’t get into any trouble today,” she told me in Spanish.

  “I don’t get into trouble,” I said, recalling Edward’s advice to push back. I wanted to say more, but I pressed my lips together to trap the fiery words that were threatening to burst out. She seemed to sense it. I thought there was almost a smile of appreciation on her face, as if she were seeing something about herself in me. Maybe Edward was right, or maybe I was hoping and dreaming too much, I thought, and quickly left with Jesse.

  Although it wasn’t a sports car, he had a very expensive-looking automobile. He saw how I was looking at it and told me it was a Mercedes.

  “It was my older brother’s car, but he went to college, and I inherited it,” he explained. “My older brother’s…now mine.”

  I nodded. “I understand.”

  “You’ve picked up a lot of English already.”

  “I knew some English before I came. Poco. Then I learned more quickly, and now I have a good teacher.”

  “You’ll learn English quicker than Americans learn Spanish, I’m sure,” he said. He continued, speaking very slowly, almost as if he were talking in his sleep. “Edward and I have known each other for some time, but we became close friends only about a year ago. You understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “No one really knows how close we are,” he said. “Most think it or suspect, but no one knows for sure.”

  I nodded. “Secreto,” I told him, and he smiled.

  “Yes, for now, that’s better. His mother,” he said, shaking his head and widening his eyes.

  I laughed. He didn’t have to say any more about it. I could easily imagine Tía Isabela’s face if she had seen them kiss like that.

  “You’re a smart girl, Delia, and very pretty. I hope things get better for you here.”

  “Gracias.”

  After he pulled up to the school, I thanked him for the ride. As I started out, he reached for my arm.

  “Edward was always trying to get back early to take you home from the bus, right? Home from the bus?”

  “Sí.”

  “I’ll take you home from the bus,” he said. “Wait for me if I’m not there right away. Understand?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said.

  “Have a good day,” he told me, and I got out of his car. I watched him drive away, and then I headed in and hurried to my classroom.

  Señorita Holt paused in the middle of whatever she was telling the other students when I stepped in.

  “Why are you late?” she demanded. “In English. Reply in English.”

  I looked at the others, who were all staring at me. Ignacio looked very concerned.

  “My cousin Edward,” I began, “banged his car into a tree and is in hospital with bandages…” I gestured around my head. “Bad with his eyes.”

  “Not bad with his eyes. Say it properly,” she ordered.

  I thought. Everyone was so still they looked as if they were all holding their breath for me.

  “Hurt his eyes. Now he’s blind.”

  There was an audible gasp from some of the other students.

  “Maybe not forever,” I added, proud of myself for remembering the English word forever.

  “Very well. Take your seat. We’re practicing how to order food in restaurants right now. It was chapter seven. Did you read chapter seven last night?”

  “No, Señorita Holt. My cousin…”

  “Where are your books and workbooks?”

  “I was at the hospital, and…”

  “Never mind. Enough time has been wasted. Just sit down and do as well as you can. Who was next?” she asked, and Marta raised her hand eagerly.

  Ignacio followed me with his eyes to my seat. He was afraid to speak, but he slid his chair and desk closer so I could use his book with him. I glanced at Señorita Holt to see if she would be upset, but she said nothing. It was hard to concentrate on the work, but I did my best, and I thought I did well with her questions, even though I hadn’t read the chapter.

  Later, when we broke for lunch, I told Ignacio all that had happened. I did not talk about Edward and Jesse’s relationship, of course.

  “I am sorry about your cousin’s accident,” Ignacio said. “Are you still able to come to the fiesta at my home on Saturday?”

  “I do not know. I have not yet asked my aunt,” I said. “It’s not a good time for me to talk about going to a party.”

  “No,” he said, his face darkening with disappointment.

  “But let’s wait to see,” I added, bringing some brightness back into his eyes.

  “It will be like going home for you,” he promised. “You’ll see.”

  I must have done even better in the afternoon in class, because Señorita Holt pulled me aside at the end of the day to tell me she was happy with my rapid progress and hoped I would not let anything slow me down.

  “I am hoping to get you into regular classes sooner than anyone would expect,” she said.

  I thanked her and hurried out to make the bus. Ignacio was saving me a seat. When I excitedly told him what Señorita Holt had said, he didn’t look happy for me.

  “You’ll be a gringa before you know it,” he said. “And forget me.”

  “I’ll never be a gringa,” I said, smiling. Then I stopped smiling and said, “I am who I am forever, and I would never forget you.”

  He liked that and talked mostly about the upcoming fiesta at his house to celebrate his sister’s birthday. He told me about the relatives who lived near enough to attend and all of the different foods and pastries that were being prepared. He added that he played a little guitar and would be performing.

  “I’m not very good,” he said, “but I’ll do it for my sister and my mother.”

  When we arrived at the bus station, I saw Jesse was already parked and waiting. I quickly explained who he was, so Ignacio would not think I had found a boyfriend. However, he still looked suspicious. His proud Latin way wouldn’t permit him to watch me walk to Jesse’s car and get in. I saw how he kept his face forward and didn’t even glance in my direction.

  “Hi,” Jesse said, opening his door and going around to open the door for me. “Cómo está?”

  “Bien,” I said, and got in.

  “Your cousin Sophia?” he said when he got in again.

  “Yes?”

  “She turned up at school this afternoon…came to escuela.”

  “Oh?”

  “To go after Bradley. There was some todo.”

  “To-do?”

  “Argument, fight…big mess. She’s telling everyone you were raped.”

  I just stared at him.

  “You know that word?”

  “Yes. Violado.”

  He nodded. “Like violated. Right. That’s what she’s telling people,” he said. He started the car and drove toward my aunt’s hacienda. />
  She was telling everyone I was raped? My aunt still did not know what had actually happened to me. What would she say or do now?

  “If there’s one person you don’t want on your tail, it’s Sophia Dallas,” Jesse said, smiling. He looked away and then back at me. “You all right, Delia?”

  I found that for the moment, I was unable to speak. My throat felt as if it had closed up.

  I didn’t have to wait long to find out what this would all mean for me. As soon as Jesse let me out at the house and I started up the stairway to the entrance, the door opened.

  My aunt Isabela stood there looking out at me.

  “It doesn’t take you long to go from one to another, does it?” she asked me, gazing toward Jesse’s disappearing car.

  I stood looking up at her, confused.

  “But you told him to take me to school.”

  “Yes, but not to take you home. Never mind. Follow me to my office,” she said. “We have a lot to discuss, you and I.”

  She turned away, leaving the door open for me.

  I looked back toward the gates and thought, Just run, Delia, run.

  Cross back over.

  Go home.

  Just as Señora Rosario suggested.

  Surprisingly, however, a part of me rose along my spine, as if the sleeping pride of my Latino ancestors had woken and stood now in full parade dress.

  With my head high, I entered my aunt’s home and followed the sound of her footsteps down the long marble corridor to what I knew would be a different sort of battlefield.

  Edward’s words echoed in my mind: “My mother respects only strength. She pushes until someone pushes back. You understand?”

  I understood.

  But was that enough?

  13

  In Confidence

  I hadn’t yet been in Tía Isabela’s office. It was, I imagined, originally her husband’s office. The walls were paneled in dark wood, and there was a slate floor with a rich-looking ruby oval rug under and around the desk. Covering the wall on one side of the office was a bookcase from floor to ceiling, each shelf filled with volumes of reference books and novels. On the wall behind the desk was a large portrait of Tía Isabela and her husband, dressed formally and standing in front of the fireplace in the living room. It looked like a portrait of royalty. All they needed were crowns and scepters.