Delia's Gift

  “Please, please, do it for me. I promise you, she’ll be gone as soon as she is no longer necessary.”

  I said nothing more. I had no one else to talk to, really, no one else to confide in. To my disappointment, Fani had not called or returned since the day she had met me at the pool. I waited each day for some word from her or about her but heard nothing. Señor Bovio did not mention her parents breaking up, either, nor did he mention her. Finally, I asked him about her, and he told me he hadn’t heard from her or her parents.

  “Everyone’s busy. I’m sure Fani has many friends. You know she is a very popular girl at school. Maybe she no longer feels she has anything in common with you because you are pregnant.”

  He might very well be right, I thought. I was disappointed but said nothing. Of course, there was no word from or about Edward, either, since the day he had been turned away at the gate. I attributed that to mi tía Isabela, who had yet to stop by even to threaten something new since the first day I had come to the Bovio hacienda. Still, I hoped that Edward might at least call me, but the phone never rang.

  I always asked Teresa if any messages had been left for me when I was out of the house, but she never said there had been any. I became suspicious about it and for the first time used the phone in my room to call out. I was just testing, so I called the telephone number of a nursing school I was considering. I couldn’t get an outside line. The phone kept going back to the dial tone.

  I went down to ask Señor Bovio about it, but he wasn’t in his office, and no one else knew anything about it. I waited for him in the living room, and the moment he entered, I asked him about my phone.

  “Oh, that was shut off shortly after my wife died,” he said. “Only the intercom works.”

  “Well, can you get it back on for me, please, señor?”

  “I’ll see about it,” he said, but he didn’t, and when I reminded him, he apologized. Finally, he told me the technician was having some difficulties and would have to do some rewiring. I asked him to get me a cell phone in the meantime. He was surprised, but he always said I could ask for anything I wanted.

  “If I should go somewhere, I might have to call you or Mrs. Newell,” I suggested when he looked hesitant.

  “Sí. You’re right. I’ll see to it immediately,” he told me, and to my surprise, the following day, a cell phone was delivered for me.

  The first thing I did was call Fani. I hadn’t forgotten her private number, but I was surprised to learn that it had been changed, so I called her house, and the housekeeper told me she wasn’t home. I left my name and my new phone number, but Fani did not return my call.

  During the weeks that went by, I often asked Señor Bovio about his efforts to reduce Ignacio’s prison sentence. He told me it was in the works, but it had to go through a chain of command that would take more time. Finally, a little annoyed about my frequent inquiries, he said, “You don’t have to keep asking me about it, Delia. You don’t push people who are doing you favors. I don’t mean me. We are working with bureaucrats who are quite self-important. There are egos to stroke and palms to fill, if you know what I mean. Be patient.”

  I could do nothing but nod and hope. To keep myself from thinking about it too much, I put most of my energy into my schoolwork, usually doing more than was required. Mr. McCarthy’s smirk of pessimism didn’t fly off his face, but it began to dwindle as he reviewed my work every Wednesday. Just before he prepared me for my final exams, however, he did admit that he expected me to do well. He administered the finals over two days and then called Señor Bovio to tell him that I had passed everything and would be getting my high school diploma.

  Although it was unusual for him to do so, Señor Bovio came up to my suite to invite me to have dinner with him the night after I had passed my exams.

  “It is a very special occasion, after all,” he said. “I am proud of your accomplishment, Delia. To be honest, I didn’t think you would be able to do it so quickly.”

  “Gracias, señor.”

  “I know it was a real accomplishment. Your tutor has a reputation for being very strict.”

  “He was.”

  Señor Bovio nodded. “You should look special tonight,” he said. He went to the closet and sifted through my maternity dresses. “I like this one very much. It reminds me of one my wife wore.”

  Dozens had been made for me and delivered, especially after the ultrasound results. Señor Bovio had Mr. Blumgarten come to do his new measurements every ten days now, instead of every three weeks. At the last session, he admitted being surprised at how quickly I was showing. He wondered if I were having twins. Mrs. Newell, who overheard, immediately assured him that I wasn’t and that I was not gaining any more weight than expected. Obviously taking it as a criticism of her, she dressed him down so sharply with her remarks that he seemed to shrink and couldn’t get his work over and leave fast enough. However, he did create beautiful clothes.

  “It is very pretty, señor. I’ll wear it.”

  “Good.”

  Señor Bovio continued to look in the closet and surprised me by bringing out one of his wife’s wigs.

  “Try this on tonight,” he said. “I think the color suits you.”

  I stared, amazed.

  He smiled. “I know you young women like to dabble in all this. Go on,” he said, holding it out.

  I took it because I could see that it was important to him.

  Later, dressed in the wig and the maternity dress he had chosen for me, I entered the dining room. He was already there and immediately registered delight. He stood and pulled out the chair for me.

  “You look absolutely beautiful, Delia. I was right about that wig. It suits you. I knew you would soon bloom. I told you that you would be even prettier during your pregnancy. My wife never believed me. I hope you do now.”

  The wig did change my look, but I didn’t think it was flattering. It wasn’t me, and I wore it only to please him.

  “We don’t see ourselves the way others see us sometimes, señor,” I said, coming as close as I could to telling him the truth.

  “Very true, very true. You are a wise young lady. More and more, I understand why Adan was so attracted to you, Delia.”

  I thanked him, but he looked very thoughtful for a moment, and then, after a moment, he asked, “How would you like to attend a nursing school in California?”

  “I have been considering a few, sí, but as I have told you, señor, I would first like—”

  “I have an idea for you.” He put his fork down and sat back. “Why not attend the nursing school in San Bernardino, which is only about an hour away? As I told you, I am buying you a car. You could attend that school and remain living here. To help you go to school and still care for our baby, I will hire a nanny to take care of the muchacho while you are at class and whenever you need to be away or work in quiet. How does that sound?”

  When I was silent, he continued.

  “There is no reason for someone as intelligent as you to delay her education. You’re comfortable here. Imagine a child growing up here,” he added. “Adan had a wonderful childhood.”

  “With his mother being away so much?” I asked. It came through my lips so fast I didn’t have time to intercept the thought. I saw that my remark stung him and brought small white blotches of anger into his cheeks.

  “We managed,” he said. “I did the best I could running a major business simultaneously. He grew up to be a fine young man, didn’t he? A father couldn’t be any prouder of a son, could he?”

  “No, señor, of course not.”

  “So? Why do you resist my offers?”

  “I don’t know, Señor Bovio. Let me think about it all.”

  “Think, sure, but you could start this schooling much sooner than you would if you went off on your own. Besides, it would be wonderful for a child to have a nurse, and peace of mind for a mother who was otherwise occupied with important things.”

  I couldn’t deny any of that, but in my visi
on of the future, I saw myself being far more independent. And what if I found someone new to love and to love me? How difficult that would be if I still lived in Señor Bovio’s house. I wouldn’t bring up such a possibility now, of course, but it hung in the air like something inevitable.

  We ate the remainder of our dinner in relative silence, but he did not retreat from his suggestion afterward. The following day, I found a pamphlet in my room for the school he had suggested in San Bernardino, and then he began to parade a variety of automobiles for me to consider.

  “I’d turn over one of Adan’s many cars to you, but it would be too painful for me to see them without him driving them,” he said.

  “I understand, of course.”

  “I’m in the process of getting rid of them, actually. It’s one of the more painful things for me. It was hard enough donating most of his clothing to Angel View, the charity in Palm Springs. I am saving all of his precious personal jewelry and other mementos for little Adan.”

  On a number of occasions since I had been given the ultrasound, he referred to my baby as little Adan. I knew he was hoping I would not object to naming him Adan. A part of me wanted simply to say I would, but another part of me wondered if my baby shouldn’t have his own identity and not be made to live in his dead father’s shadow. I was afraid even to bring up this conflict in my mind. How I longed for a companion, a trusted ear to listen to my most troubled and intimate thoughts.

  Again, I tried reaching Fani and even considered calling Edward. I almost did, but I stopped myself when I thought I would just be getting him into deeper trouble. I had done enough to him as it was. He didn’t need me bringing him down any more.

  However, whenever I saw the pile of mail being brought to Señor Bovio’s office, I wondered if there could be a letter from Edward or possibly, finally, a letter from Ignacio. Perhaps his mother had mentioned my visit when she had visited him in prison, and perhaps she had suggested that he write to me. It was truly a dream, I knew, but I couldn’t help fantasizing about it.

  In my fantasy, Teresa would bring Ignacio’s letter to me, and I would hold it for hours without daring to open the envelope and read the letter. I would be too nervous. What if it was a letter filled with anger and curses? What if there were no forgiveness and understanding? It would be too painful.

  But what if it was a letter filled with hope and love? Would I dare write back and tell him that Señor Bovio was working on getting him out earlier? What if I told him and Señor Bovio was unable to do much at all? It was much crueler to make a promise and have someone expect it than not to make any promise at all. He could hate me again. I spent hours thinking about all of this, even though it was something that hadn’t happened. I lived with the hope that someday it would.

  Another three weeks went by, and my scheduled second visit to Dr. Denardo’s office occurred. This time, Señor Bovio was more nervous. I had the feeling that Mrs. Newell had unloaded her litany of terrible scenarios on him as well. I was having an amniocentesis, which was a test to see if there were any genetic abnormalities. I was sure she had told him, as she had made sure to tell me, that the test could detect chromosomal disorders such as Down syndrome or the structural defect she had described earlier, spina bifida.

  Señor Bovio tried to be nonchalant when he asked me questions about my family, my relatives, but I knew why he was asking.

  “We have always been healthy people, señor. Anyone who died young in my family died because of an accident,” I said, making sure that Mrs. Newell clearly heard my answers. “Perhaps I don’t need this test,” I suggested. “I understand it is expensive.”

  Mrs. Newell made a sound under her breath.

  “No, no, it’s good we do it,” Señor Bovio said. “The cost is not important, and Dr. Denardo is a talented doctor.”

  I said nothing more about it. The test was completed, and the results were good. Dr. Denardo concluded by telling Señor Bovio and me that the rest of my pregnancy should be “clear sailing.”

  After that, I had good days and bad days. Sometimes I was simply depressed and glad that everything was being brought to me. Just like Señora Bovio, I found it easier to remain all day in my suite. However, despite Señor Bovio’s having a beautician and a manicurist visit frequently and despite the many new gifts, I seemed to sink into a deeper depression. Dr. Denardo had warned me about experiencing emotional highs and lows, but when I began the sixth month, I found myself stuck in the lows more often.

  I began to suffer some of what Dr. Denardo had described would be the minor disorders of pregnancy. Everything that happened seemed to please Mrs. Newell. At first, I thought it was because it verified all of the things she had predicted, but I began to wonder if she wanted me to have the discomforts because I was an unwed mother. She never failed to add a comment such as “If you want to dance, you have to pay the piper,” “A night of joy can lead to a morning of regret,” or simply “You should have thought about this.”

  When I complained about heartburn, she made my meals smaller and more frequent. She advised me to drink milk, and that did appear to help, which was what made it more difficult for me to complain about her. Her little quips were biting, but her treatments were soothing. It was the same with my constipation, backaches, and muscle cramps. Although I cringed at her touch, I couldn’t help but enjoy the massages, and she was right there with an antidote or a suggestion as soon as I uttered a complaint. Whether she was doing it to make things better for me or to impress and satisfy Señor Bovio didn’t matter. The result was the same.

  One Saturday afternoon, while I was lying on the love seat, bored with what I had been reading, aching, and feeling sorry for myself, I heard a knock on my door.

  “Yes?” I called, sitting up, and was happily surprised to see Fani.

  She looked as beautiful as ever in a light blue, tightly fitted cotton sweater and designer jeans with sequins running up the sides. She had her hair flowing down under a USC cap. The air around her seemed charged with electricity as she burst into the suite wearing her best glittering smile.

  “Where’s our teenage mother?” she cried, laughing. “Mi dios, you do look pregnant now.”

  “I was always pregnant, Fani. I couldn’t help your not believing me.”

  “Whatever,” she said, practically floating down to me. “How are you?”

  “Miserable,” I said, which made her laugh again. “I feel like I’m becoming a blimp. Look at my legs,” I said, showing them to her.

  “Ugh,” she said, sitting at the foot of the love seat. “I may never get pregnant. I might just hire someone like you to carry my egg and my husband’s sperm.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I said. “Where have you been, Fani? Why didn’t you ever come back or return my calls?”

  “I didn’t think Ray wanted me to,” she said.

  “Why not? He never told me such a thing.”

  “He didn’t tell you, but he called my mother and complained about me blowing smoke in your face and not being the right sort of companion at this particular time.”

  “I don’t like that,” I said.

  “Forget it. He was just being overly protective. Anyway, as soon as school ended, I went on holiday with some friends to France. As you can see,” she said, tapping her cap, “I decided to attend USC.” She smiled, raising her eyebrows. “And guess whom I see quite often on campus.”

  I sat up, excited. “Edward?”

  “Sí, su primo Edward. He always seems uncomfortable when he meets me, but I deliberately go out of my way to force him to run into me. I enjoy teasing him. Jesse left him, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “Seems that even gay lovers can be fickle.” She paused. “Don’t you want to know if he asked about you?”

  “You know I do, Fani. He tried coming here, but mi tía Isabela—”

  “I know, I know. I heard all about the deal she made or the threat, whichever way you see it. At the time, I told him you were doing
rather well and being treated like Señor Bovio’s daughter-in-law would, if he had one. He was happy about it. I also told him I hadn’t seen you and why.”

  “How come you’re able to visit me now, then?”

  “For just this reason, I guess,” she said, holding her hands out to me. “Ray’s worried about you. Your nurse has told him you’ve been more depressed than expected, whatever that means, and he thought if I visited you, it might cheer you up and bring you out of your funk. Why are you depressed? You have everything you could want here, don’t you?”

  “Sí.”

  “So? You’re not getting as spoiled as I am, are you? Then nothing’s enough.”

  “No, Fani,” I said, smiling at her honesty. “The truth is, I miss my family. I am still quite unhappy about what has happened to Ignacio and his family. Señor Bovio has not yet worked out a way to get him out of prison sooner. I can’t see my cousin Edward. And I have a nurse who might once have worked for el diablo.”

  She roared with laughter. “Well,” she said, “I’m occasionally home on weekends, as I am this weekend. Maybe we could hang out, go to the Fountain.”

  The Fountain was a dance club.

  “I don’t think I’d be much fun there.”

  “You never know. I heard pregnant women turn on some boys. One thing’s for sure, they can’t get into trouble. You’re already there.”

  “Very funny. You’re not saying anything about your parents. Señor Bovio has never said anything to me. What is happening with them?”

  “They have reached an understanding. There’s a truce under way. They don’t talk about anything but necessities, and they live separate lives. They hardly ever eat dinner together. Oh, they do when I’m home, just to put on an act, but it’s like sitting with two people who speak different languages or are deaf. Practically everything’s said with a gesture. I don’t care, as long as they don’t get in my way.”

  She looked around.

  “It’s quite a suite, but it’s still a prison,” she said. “I have an idea. You need some excitement, some fun in your life, don’t you?”