Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

A little more than an hour later, I heard Señor Baker drive into the carport. He was whistling as he entered the house, his arms full of some of what he had purchased.

“There is more to bring in, Señora Baker,” he said. “Look in the back of the car. In what?”

“The trunk,” I said.

“Good. Go on.”

I wiped my hands on a dish towel and went out to see. There was a blanket in a plastic wrap and two pillows. He waited for me in the short hallway and directed me into the larger bedroom.

“Make the bed,” he said. “I’ll put everything else away.”

“Why are we having only one bed?” I asked. “Aren’t you staying here, too?”

He smiled. “Of course. Even in your sleep, you will be learning.”

“In my sleep? How can I learn in my sleep?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said sharply. “Just do what I tell you. Your aunt has put me in charge, hasn’t she? Show respect.”

I felt my face brighten. His outburst of anger surprised and frightened me. I turned away quickly and went to make the bed. When I returned to the kitchen, he was looking at the food preparations and smiling.

“This all looks and smells delicious, Señora Baker,” he told me, and then he went about the kitchen making me identify everything in English. He was happy about my retention. “This is working,” he said, sounding surprised at his own idea. “This is really going to impress Isabela. Just continue with the dinner preparations, but repeat what I tell you,” he ordered. I did as he asked.

He translated every move we made and everything we touched in the kitchen and at the table. He made me recite repeatedly until he was satisfied with my pronunciations.

“Every day, I will test you on the things I have taught you the day and the night before,” he said. “When I think you are ready, I will ask you not to speak in español, only in inglés, understand? If you make a mistake, you will have to pay for it.”

“Pay for it? I have no money.”

He laughed. “There are other ways to pay for things, Delia. Everyone knows that. Especially women,” he added, and laughed.

I was afraid to ask him any more questions about it.

“Look what I bought you, Señora Baker,” he said after we had eaten our dinner and I was cleaning up the kitchen. He showed me a video. “It’s one of my own movies, from my own collection. There are many good words to learn in English, words you will have to know when you are out there in the world meeting boys and men. If you don’t understand these words, you will be at a big disadvantage, and you don’t want to be at any disadvantage when it comes to young men, Delia.”

I stared at the video box. There was a picture of a man wearing the skimpiest pair of underwear and a woman with her back to him leaning against him. She was obviously naked. I did not understand the title, Bubbles, Bangles, and Bedsheets, even after he translated each word.

“You’ll figure it out after a while,” he told me. “Finish up here, and we’ll watch our movie.”

It all made me very nervous, especially his calling me Señora Baker. My fingers trembled around the dishes, and I dropped one. It shattered on the floor, sending shards everywhere. He came rushing back.

“What’s going on? Damn it,” he said. “We can’t break things here. Your aunt will not be pleased.”

I started to cry. Were these dishes expensive?

“Get it all cleaned up,” he said. “And you’d better not break another thing,” he warned. When he spoke, I smelled whiskey on his breath.

I hurried to get the broom. He kept calling to me from the living room, telling me he was getting tired of waiting for me. He wanted to start his movie. I moved slowly, hesitant, my instincts telling me that I was falling deeper and deeper into some sort of danger. Finally, I had nothing more to do and had to go to the living room.

“It’s about time. Do you people always work so slowly?” he asked me. “Everything’s left for mañana, mañana. Well, there is no more mañana. You understand?” Before I could answer, he smiled and said, “Of course, there are some things you should do slowly.” His smile confused me. “Sit,” he said, patting the place beside him on the sofa. I saw he had a bottle of whiskey on the table and a glass with some in it.

I sat, and he turned on the television and then the video player. His movie began, and almost immediately, a man and a woman undressed each other. He sipped his whiskey and began to translate what they were saying to each other, but it didn’t make sense to me. Clothes were “peeled off.” She wanted him to “raise her temperature.” He wanted her to “pump him up.”

Soon they weren’t talking. They were just moaning and groaning, and what they were doing shocked and embarrassed me. He stopped the video and told me he was rewinding it to teach me the words again. This was why a video was good for learning language.

“You can go over and over it until you learn the words perfectly,” he said, but he spent more time on the sections where they were doing nothing but moaning and groaning.

“You ever do that?” he asked me. He finished his whiskey and poured himself some more.