Delia’s Crossing (14 page)

“To see if you were walking along,” he told me, and smiled.

Then he turned left when he should have gone straight.

“Me? Why?”

“Why not?” he replied.

“
Dónde vamos
?” I asked him.

“Where are we going?” He thought a moment, then smiled and said, “Just for a ride. Let the wind blow through your hair in your chariot, m’lady.” He laughed.

And for a moment, only a moment, I wondered if Cinderella had found her prince.

I
asked Bradley where he had learned to speak Spanish so well, and he told me he had been brought up by his nanny, Maria De Santas, who always spoke to him in Spanish.

“I knew how to speak Spanish before I knew how to speak English.”

“Why were you brought up by a nanny? Where was your mother?”

“She left us when I was only six months old,” he told me.

“Left you? I don’t understand.”

“Me, neither,” he said. He paused and then added, “She ran off with the manager of my father’s auto-parts plant.”

“Where did they go?”

He looked at me as if I was asking a stupid question.

“Somewhere in Florida, I think. My father knew because of the legal stuff that followed, but he doesn’t like to talk about it.”

How could a mother leave her own child? Were all of the women in America as selfish as
mi tía
Isabela? Why wasn’t family as important here as it was in Mexico?

“I don’t think about it anymore,” he continued, now sounding more angry. “To me, it’s the same as if she died. My father finally remarried, and I have a young sister, Gayle. She’s six. Maria is still with us, so Gayle is speaking Spanish well, too. It doesn’t hurt to know how to speak Spanish around here, with all you Mexicans,” he added.

“It doesn’t hurt to know how to speak English, either,” I told him, and he laughed. Then he looked at me in the strangest way. It was as if he was looking at me really for the first time.

“You’re a very pretty girl, Delia, but I bet you know how pretty you are, right?”

“No,” I said, blushing. I wanted to tell him about the evil eye and why doting on myself was not good. Besides, he was supposed to be Sophia’s boyfriend and shouldn’t be saying such things to other girls. “Don’t you think Sophia’s pretty?” I asked.

“She’s all right,” he said quickly. “She needs to lose weight, but I’ll never be the one to tell her. She’d have me assassinated.”

Talking about her with him made me nervous, even though I was the one who had brought up her name. Maybe it was my way of getting him to remember who his girlfriend was so he would stop paying so much attention to me, although I couldn’t help but be flattered by such a handsome boy.

“I should go now to my aunt’s
hacienda,
” I said. “I have work.”

“Don’t worry. You would never be home by now walking, anyway,” he told me, and turned down a side street. “My father is fixing up some houses here for resale on this street,” he said. “He has his hands in a lot of things. Matter of fact, here’s one.” He made a sharp turn into a driveway. It was a house no bigger than the one
mi tía
Isabela sent me to live in with Señor Baker. “Let’s see how well the work is going.” He shut off the engine and got out of the car. “C’mon,” he urged.

I looked at the house. There was no one working around it and no other vehicle in the driveway. Behind us, the street was very quiet. There was no one outside any of the homes, and I had yet to see another car drive along.

“I have to get back home,” I insisted. “Please.”

“We’ll just be a few minutes. You’ll still get home faster than you would have walking, I promise,” he told me.

He looked as if he wouldn’t get back into the car unless I followed him to look at the house, so I got out.

“This one should be nearly done,” he told me. He led me around to a rear door. Under a mat, he found a key. Why were we going in through the back way?

The door opened on a small kitchen. I could see some tools on a table and some sawdust on the floor where a cabinet had been trimmed to fit a new dishwasher. At least he was telling me the truth about the restoration, I thought, and relaxed a little. He walked about, inspecting some of the work.

“My father’s made me his refurbishing assistant. I’m responsible for what goes on here. Eventually, I’ll take over most of his businesses, you know. He wants me to go to college to major in business education, but I’m not sure it’s necessary. We buy these houses for nothing, put in some money, and sell them at great prices.”

I followed him into the living room, where I saw work had been done around a fireplace and a new wood floor had been laid. He studied a window frame and shook his head.

“They could do better than this,” he said. “These gaps are unnecessary. Come here and look at what I mean.”

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 open, 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.