“I want you out of that room now,” she began. “Take your things, and move into the old help’s quarters, to the room you had when you first arrived, the room I should have kept you in and not been persuaded otherwise by my gullible son. Perhaps none of this would have happened. Do your chores, and finish your school year. Then go back to Mexico, or do whatever you want, only leave.
“You make me believe in the ojo malvado, the evil eye,” she said, and I turned sharply toward her. “Yes, those stupid, old, backward ideas I have ridiculed all my life seem to have validity when it comes to you. I don’t want you bringing any more bad luck to my home, to my family, to my world.”
I had no fight left in me and no words to contradict her. I had come to believe these things about myself. I turned away again, and when we arrived, I got out, went up to my room, and gathered my things together as she had commanded. Even though it was late, Sophia charged up ahead of me to get on her phone and report everything as if she were some foreign correspondent with breaking world news. In a matter of hours, if not minutes, everyone who knew of Adan and of me would know what had happened. And she would feel important.
Tía Isabela told Señora Rosario and Inez what had occurred and what she wanted done with me. They were waiting to help move my things when I came down. They looked sorry for me, but I could see they were also afraid to say anything that might be critical of mi tía Isabela. I imagined how angry and terrifying she had looked to them when she described the events and what were her new orders. I moved silently, truly believing I had become that shadow of myself. I didn’t mind the cold, dark, dusty room and the uncomfortable bed. I didn’t mind the insects and the poor lighting. Señora Rosario left me cleaning liquids, a mop, and washcloths. The palms of my hands still burned with pain, but I worked anyway, welcomed the pain, welcomed anything that resembled punishment I thought I deserved. When I was finally too exhausted even to cry, I went to bed. At the moment, I felt even too unworthy to say a prayer. I battled back sleep, because I was afraid of the nightmares that would surely come thundering through my mind, but eventually, I could not stay awake.
I didn’t dream. Maybe I was too tired even for that, but when the morning light streamed into the little room and nudged my eyes, I was happy to see I had slept. I rose, washed and dressed, and, moving like a robot, went to the main house to begin my morning chores and help with the breakfast. Both Tía Isabela and Sophia slept late. Señora Rosario risked some expressions of sympathy and comfort, and Inez even cried a little for me. I smiled and thanked them and went about my work.
I wasn’t sure Tía Isabela would want me to serve the late breakfast, but I accompanied Inez as usual, and mi tía said nothing. Sophia came bouncing down the stairway, declaring she was starving, and immediately deman
ded more of this and more of that. Then, while I was still in the dining room, she turned to Tía Isabela and said, “Everyone thinks this is going to be one of the biggest funerals here ever.”
“I imagine it will be,” Tía Isabela said. She sipped her coffee and stared at the empty chair her husband had once filled.
Sophia, not satisfied with that, turned her attention to me. “Guess who wishes she had never met you and never made you her friend. Just guess,” she pursued.
I didn’t respond, but I glanced at Tía Isabela. She looked pleased at how Sophia was trying to torment me.
“Fani,” she volunteered. “Fani Cordova, who was once your savior. So I wouldn’t bother calling her for help. Ever.”
I cleared the dirty dishes and went into the kitchen. I tried to block out their words, but I could feel myself cringing and finally doubled up at the sink. Señora Rosario saw me and quickly came to my side.
“Go. Take a rest, Delia. Go,” she told me. I started to shake my head, but she literally pushed me toward the rear door. “Rest,” she ordered, and I left.
Inez and Señora Rosario covered for me, and I spent the rest of the day in my room. Inez brought me something to eat, but I barely touched it. I returned to help with dinner, but Tía Isabela had gone to Señor Bovio’s home, and Sophia had gone with some of her friends to gossip, especially now that she was seen as someone with privileged information about it all. I ate a little and returned to my dark, lonely room to pray.
I returned to school the next day. Many had heard about Adan, but not that many knew I had anything to do with him. For most, he was like some celebrity. It held their interest for only a little while. The newspapers I saw showed Señor Bovio in postures of mourning. There was great sympathy for him, but from what I heard and read, few thought it would have any positive effect on his campaign. In fact, they talked about his simply clinging on to save face, but they described his effort as empty and futile.
What amazed me, but for which I was grateful, was the fact that my name had somehow been kept out of the news stories. It was almost as if he had been alone on the boat. There were no follow-up stories, either. However, there was no doubt that the students at the private school and the families knew all of the details, including my involvement.
In fact, Tía Isabela called me into her office to tell me she had decided that under the circumstances, I should not attend Adan’s funeral.
“It would be too painful for his father,” she said. “And it would only attract more unnecessary mean gossip, something neither he nor I need at the moment.”
I didn’t have much choice about it. Sophia and her friends went. Edward came back from college with Jesse, and they attended as well. I kept anticipating them coming to see me, but Tía Isabela must have issued some new threat. They went directly to the church and cemetery and then returned to college.
Sophia was so excited about everything that she had to come to my room in the old help’s quarters to tell me about the funeral. I was sitting on my bed trying to read one of my English assignments when she appeared in the doorway.
“It stinks in here,” she complained. I just looked at her. “The church was so packed that people were standing outside. There were lots of politicians, too. Mr. Bovio was practically being held up and carried by two of his close friends. He looked like he was the one who died.
“And there were just as many people at the cemetery. Of course, everyone was asking about you. My mother should have let you come. It looks worse because you didn’t come.
“What a waste. He was like a movie star. Are you going back to Mexico right after your graduation?” she followed almost in the same breath.
“I don’t know.”
“You should. That’s where you belong. You’re never going to meet or find someone like Adan again. What can you do but become someone’s maid or watch someone else’s kids? You’ll get fat and ugly like most of them and marry some toothless gardener.
“God,” she said, shaking her head as she looked at me. “Remember when you were so damn high and mighty, threatening me with Fani’s pictures and everything?”
I looked at my book.
“You can pretend you don’t care, Delia, but you don’t fool me.” She laughed. “Forget about that idea of becoming a nurse, too.”
I looked up sharply. How did she know that? She saw the surprise in my face and laughed.
“You told the guidance counselor at the public school, and he mentioned it to my mother. You know what she said? She said with your luck, every patient you touch will drop dead. This room really smells,” she concluded. “I think the sewer is backing up or something. Ugh.”