Delia's Crossing

  I stepped up and saw where he was pointing.

  “See what I mean? Shoddy craftsmanship. Just because it’s an inexpensive house doesn’t mean we’ll tolerate that. My reputation is always at stake. You understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled at me the way he had in the car. It was as if his eyes could undress me. It made me nervous.

  “Man, you are a very pretty girl, Delia. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes. Do you have a lot of boyfriends back in Mexico?”

  “No,” I said. “I had no boyfriend.”

  “What, are they all stupid? I thought girls like you were gobbled up.”

  He ran his hand softly down my hair and my cheek, and then he leaned in and kissed me. I knew he was going to do it, but rather than back away quickly, I felt myself grow numb, frozen, helpless. He took that to mean I had wanted him to kiss me, wanted him to do more. He pulled me to him and kissed me harder, then kissed my cheek and my neck, his arms around me so tightly I couldn’t push him back.

  I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say or do.

  “I’ve been thinking about you ever since you walked into the house with Edward that afternoon,” he said. “Twice I drove the streets hoping to catch you walking home before Edward did.”

  Why? I thought. What about Sophia? He kissed me again before I could ask anything, and this time, he accompanied his kiss with his hands moving over my shoulders and down over my breasts, before he embraced me around the waist and started to lower me to the floor.

  Finally, I found the strength to resist.

  “No, please,” I said. “Stop.”

  “Don’t you like me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “but…”

  “That’s all that matters. Forget but,” he insisted, pulling me down harder until I sat on the floor.

  Before I could say another word, he leaned over me, kissing my face, moving his lips down over my chin to my neck, as his hands now went under my blouse. He lifted it against my meager resistance and then had his lips quickly between my breasts, working his fingers over the bra clasp until it was undone and he had moved the bra away so that his lips could find my nipples and then move over and under my bosom. I was both shocked and frightened at how quickly the surge of excitement flowed down to my thighs and circled my stomach with a warmth that seemed to weaken me further. He was completely over me now, and we were sprawled on the floor.

  When he put his hands on my thighs and started to lift away my skirt, I pushed hard on his chest.

  “Easy,” he said, putting his hand over mine and holding it there against his chest. “Easy. I know what Mr. Baker did to you. Sophia told me. This is different. This will be different. I promise you.”

  He leaned in to kiss me again, and I pulled back.

  “No,” I cried, shaking my head. The mention of Señor Baker shocked me into greater resistance.

  “Take it easy,” Bradley said softly.

  I twisted and squirmed, burning my shoulder against the wood floor, but my resistance didn’t discourage him as I had hoped. Bradley pressed down harder on me.

  “Hey, don’t be a tease. You like me. You want me. Just relax,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want this now. Please.”

  “Come on, stop the innocent act. I know girls your age have been with plenty of guys in Mexico. That’s why you have so many children so young.”

  “No, it’s not true. Let me go.”

  I pushed his face away, and anger flashed like lightning through his eyes.

  “What is this? Why did you get into my car so fast, huh? Don’t play around, Delia.”

  “I’m not playing. Please,” I said, continuing to push at him, but he was too strong. It was like pushing a wall.

  He stared down at me, gazing at my exposed breasts, and then he smiled.

  “Keep pushing,” he said. “I like it.”

  He had his hands under my skirt and was tugging my panties down. I seized his hair and pulled his face and his lips off my breasts. He grimaced and cried out, bringing his hands to my wrists, and we struggled for a few moments.

  “I’m going to tell Sophia you tried to seduce me,” he warned when he pulled my hands away from his hair. “And she’s going to tell your aunt. I’m going to tell them you saw me driving by and waved me over and got into my car and that you asked me to take you for a ride and tried to seduce me. Think your aunt will believe that of you?” he asked me, smiling wryly. “Sophia told me what Mr. Baker had said about you.”

  I felt my resistance weaken. I shook my head. “No, it was lies.”

  “How will she feel about a little tramp from Mexico coming to live in her house and embarrass her? Huh? I’ll tell you how she’ll feel, awful and very angry, especially after I tell my stepmother, who gossips in the same social circles. Your aunt will have you deported, sent back in chains, and everyone in your village will hear the story.”

  “Please!” I cried. “Don’t do that.”

  “Relax. I’m not saying I’ll do that for sure,” he said. His hands returned to my panties. “Why should I do that? I like you.”

  I started to sob softly. He was moving quickly now, and I didn’t know what else to do. “Please,” I begged him.

  “I like that, too. Keep saying that. Please. Go on, say it again. Please.”

  I shook my head madly when I felt him pushing into me.

  “Please,” he continued to mimic. “Please.”

  I closed my eyes. The pain and the disgrace flowed through me in equal waves. I felt myself rise out of my body to stop myself from thinking about what was happening to me. However, some time during his passion and his assault, I heard a voice inside me say, This didn’t happen to Cinderella.

  When he was finished, he lay there still sprawled over me, breathing hard.

  “You really were a virgin,” he muttered, and rolled over to pull up his pants.

  I was still too much in shock to speak or even to cry.

  “You can use the bathroom,” he told me, gesturing in its direction. “There are towels there for the workers and such. Go on,” he ordered. “We’ve got to get going, or you will be very late after all.”

  He walked out of the room. Slowly, I fixed my clothing and got up. When I went into the bathroom, I saw how inflamed my face was. It was streaked with tears I hadn’t felt. I cleaned myself as best I could and then sat on the toilet seat and tried to regain my composure. He knocked on the door and told me to come out to the car quickly.

  “Move it. I’m leaving in a minute, whether you’re there or not.”

  I didn’t want to go with him, but I was in a daze. He talked incessantly all the way back to my aunt’s estate, his voice calm and happy, as if we really were boyfriend and girlfriend and nothing terrible had occurred. It made it all seem that much more unreal to me. Maybe it didn’t happen, I told myself, but my sore shoulder and the scrapes I had on my rear and lower back reminded me it had.

  When he pulled up to the hacienda, he sat back, smiling.

  “I wouldn’t make up any stories about this afternoon,” he warned. “It will be your word against mine, Delia, and this will be the second time you were in trouble with a man since you arrived. No one will believe you. Besides, you probably enjoyed it. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit it.”

  I shook my head and opened the car door. “You’re no prince,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  “You’re a disgrace to your nanny,” I told him. “You have sinned against everyone who loves you.”

  His smile seemed to freeze on his face. Then he pointed his right forefinger at me. “You’d better keep your mouth shut, Delia. I’m warning you.”

  “I don’t have to tell anyone,” I said. “God has seen what you have done.”

  I got out and closed the car door. He pulled away quickly and sped down the driveway. Then I brushed down my clothes and started up the stairs. When I looked at the doorway, I saw it was ope
n, and Sophia was standing there glaring out at me.

  “You bitch,” she said. “Mr. Baker was right about you!” she shouted, turned, and went back inside.

  My heart bobbed like a yo-yo in my chest. Feeling like a trapped animal, I followed her into the house and hurried up the stairs to my room to get out of my soiled clothes and start my chores. Now I understood what Cinderella felt when the clock struck twelve and she fell back into her state of despair. Only, unlike her, I had no one coming in search of me.

  Later, as I did my chores, I thought about the irony. Those who had seen me leave my village in the limousine were certain I was on my way to some sort of promised land. They thought I was being comforted and compensated for my great grief. They thought some sort of mercy had been thrown over me. They didn’t know that the evil eye was not finished with me yet.

  I vowed to keep my laughter, my smiles, my happiness, should it ever come, locked deep inside me. I would not tempt the ojo malvado again. I did my best work that afternoon, never scrubbing as hard or cleaning as completely. The work kept me from crying. Señora Rosario was impressed enough to give me a compliment, but I didn’t say thank you. I would not even accept compliments anymore. Everything frightened me now. Good only led me to more bad.

  Later, after I had changed to go to dinner, Edward came to my bedroom, knocked, and entered.

  “Bradley Whitfield took you home today?” he asked me.

  I looked away when I answered so he wouldn’t see my face.

  “Yes.”

  “Watch out for him,” he warned. “He’s a smooth talker.”

  “Smooth?” I shook my head.

  “Yeah, that means he’s sly, er…tricky…dishonest.”

  “Sí,” I said, now understanding.

  “But I bet you knew that anyway,” he added. “See you at dinner,” he said.

  I waited for him to leave, and then I finally began to cry.

  Before I went down to dinner, I showered and saw the burns and scrapes on my body from my struggle with Bradley. Some of them stung badly and took my breath away when the water hit them. I sucked in my tears, dried myself gently, and dressed for dinner.

  The moment I took my seat in the dining room, my aunt was on me. She leaned toward me, her eyes dark and cold with accusations.

  “Sophia tells me you had Bradley Whitfield drive you home. How did you get him to do that?”

  I turned away from her, my whole body shaking.

  “Well?” she asked. “You understand what I’m asking. Don’t pretend not to understand,” she snapped.

  I turned back to her. She was pressing her lips together and glaring hatefully at me.

  “I did nothing, Tía Isabela,” I said. “I was walking from the bus, and he came with his car and told me to get in.”

  “Told you?” Sophia asked, smirking. “I doubt that he told you.”

  “Why do you doubt it, Sophia? It doesn’t surprise me,” Edward said. “You think you’re the only girl he’s with these days? Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Shut up, Edward. At least he’s with a girl.”

  Edward’s face reddened. Then he relaxed and smiled. “Why don’t you tell Mother why you didn’t go home with Bradley and why he was alone in the first place?”

  “What does that mean?” Tía Isabela asked.

  “Let Sophia tell you.”

  “Sophia?”

  “Go on, Sophia. Tell Mother why you weren’t with Bradley today,” Edward taunted.

  “It’s nothing. I was with some of my girlfriends, that’s all. I don’t need to have Bradley around me all day long, but I don’t need someone else chasing after him, either, someone who lives here,” she added, pointedly looking at me. “Especially my long-lost, sweet, innocent, poor, and helpless cousin, who turns out to be not so helpless after all.”

  I understood most of what she was saying.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head and looking at my aunt. “It’s not so, not…true.”

  “Of course, it isn’t. How could Delia chase after him?” Edward asked. “She’s not in our school. When would she have seen him?”

  “She saw him here.”

  “That was just the one time.”

  “Boys need to see a girl like her only once to know what she’s like.”

  “That’s crap, and you know it!” Edward screamed at her.

  “You don’t know where or how this girl was brought up, Edward,” Tía Isabela said, sitting back and nodding at me. “I do. Sophia’s not all wrong.”

  “She’s way more than all wrong, Mother, and so are you.”

  “That’s enough! I won’t have it. I won’t have sexual promiscuity in my house.”

  “Unless it’s your own,” Edward muttered, and Tía Isabela slammed her hand on the table so hard all the dishes and glasses jumped.

  “Get out of my sight!” she screamed at him, and pointed to the door.

  “I think I’m entitled to have my dinner,” Edward said calmly, and continued to eat.

  Tía Isabela looked as if she would soon be having smoke pour out of her ears. I was shifting my eyes from one to the other so quickly I thought I’d get dizzy. How could Edward be so defiant? Was it because of what Señora Rosario had said, that he had inherited the property and wealth, too?

  Tía Isabela stared a moment, nodded to herself, and then rose, keeping her eyes down.

  “I will not remain, then,” she said, and marched out of the dining room.

  “Good work, Edward,” Sophia told him. “You drove our mother away from her own dinner defending this tramp from Mexico.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “I don’t understand why you defend Delia so much,” she continued. “Have you already done it with her? Is that it? She makes it easy for you? Have you finally lost your virginity?”

  Without any warning or indication that he was even listening to his sister, Edward lifted his glass and heaved the contents, grape juice, across the table at her. It splattered over her face and clothes. She screamed, leaped to her feet, and rushed out of the dining room, crying.

  Edward continued eating as if nothing at all had happened. He glanced at me.

  “Go on,” he said. “Finish your dinner. Around here, you need your strength.”

  I had no appetite. My insides felt tied up in knots, but I was afraid of not eating. For the moment, at least, everyone seemed crazy here.

  “I have a lot of homework and a term paper to do,” Edward told me when he was finished. “Don’t worry. I’ll drive you to the bus tomorrow.”

  I watched him leave, and then I helped Inez clear the table and clean up the kitchen before I went up to my room. Not eager to practice any English, I sat at the desk and tried to write a new letter to mi abuela Anabela, but every attempt was filled with so much self-pity, practically begging her to take me back, I tore it up.

  It was difficult to fall asleep, even difficult to say my prayers. I felt God was not pleased with me now. I had not fought hard enough to stop Bradley Whitfield, and in the beginning, I was too flattered and welcomed his compliments and attention too much. I envisioned Father Martinez shaking his head at me. In my imagination, I saw myself in our village church, but my prayers and singing echoed off the walls and ceiling and never made it up to God’s ear.

  I moved like someone in a daze the following morning. Bradley did not come by to pick up Sophia. I understood enough of her conversation with Tía Isabela at breakfast to understand that she and Bradley had had a bad argument over the telephone during the night. She didn’t want to get into the car with Edward, either, but her mother wouldn’t assign Señor Garman to drive her and certainly wouldn’t drive her herself. Pouting like a four-year-old, she sat in the rear and said nothing the entire time it took to bring me to the bus.

  “Don’t worry,” Edward said before I got out. “I’ll be waiting here at the station for you this time.”

  I nodded and closed the door. Sophia had her head down and wouldn’t look my way when
they drove off. There was a small crowd waiting for the bus. Some students from the school were there and some adults on their way to their respective jobs. I did not know any of the other students, because I was still only in the ESL classroom. None of them paid much attention to me, anyway. I was the last to get on the bus when it finally came, but Ignacio was saving a seat for me. He smiled as I approached.

  “Good morning, Delia,” he said in English. “How are you today?”

  “Fine,” I said, and sat without saying more.

  “You don’t look fine,” he said, in Spanish this time.

  “I’m fine,” I said sharply. I didn’t look at him.

  He looked back at the station as if the answer to why I was the way I was remained back there. I felt his gaze on me.

  “Problemas con su familia?”

  Problems with my family? I thought, and nearly laughed.

  “They are not my family,” I said. “My family is in Mexico. I want to go home,” I told him. “I wish I had money to help you buy your car so you could drive me back.”

  He smiled. “If that’s what you want, I would do it,” he said. “I promise someday, maybe.”

  I nodded and thanked him.

  Everything was more difficult for me all day. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was soiled inside and out. It depressed me and made me inattentive in class, which annoyed Señorita Holt. I stumbled over words and sentences I had long since mastered. At the lunch break, she asked me if I were feeling ill. I was afraid she might have the school call my aunt to tell her I was sick, so I said no. I told her I had a bellyache the night before and couldn’t sleep well. Lying was not something that had ever come easily to me. I was too quick to shift my eyes.

  Señorita Holt didn’t speak. She stared at me in silence.

  “I cannot help you solve your problem if you do not tell me what that problem is,” she said.

  I was silent. How could I tell her?

  “Okay, go have your lunch, Delia,” she told me, and turned away.

  Now I felt even more guilty and unworthy. I barely ate my lunch. Although he didn’t say much to me, I felt Ignacio’s eyes watching me. I was even mean and disinterested in little Mata, who wanted to be friendlier with me. When I returned to class, I tried harder to be attentive and do better in my work, but I was still not doing as well as I should, and Señorita Holt let me know it with her frequent expressions of dissatisfaction, turning now to annoyance and disappointment as she openly criticized me. I was practically in tears when the bell for the end of the day finally sounded. I hurried out before she could call me aside again for a lecture or interrogation.