Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

“Be ready to go right after breakfast,” she told me, turned, and left.

I never thought I would do it, but at that moment, I pitied her and felt sorrier for her than I did for myself. I prayed for Edward and even prayed for Tía Isabela that night. The emotional fatigue of the day and the evening was enough to send me reeling into a dark pit of sleep, with horrid images flashing through nightmares strung together in a bracelet of misfortune and terror. I awoke with a start, feeling as if I had just come up from a pool of ink, gasping. My head felt like one large rock on my neck.

Not having had anything for dinner the night before, I managed some appetite, even though my stomach had turned into a hive of bees. Sophia did not come down for breakfast as usual, and Inez, who had taken back the responsibility of bringing her breakfast to her room, reported that Sophia was still sleeping when she knocked on the door. She didn’t want anything, and she would not get out of bed. Tía Isabela went up to speak to her but returned shaking her head.

“That girl seizes on any excuse not to go to school,” she muttered to Señora Rosario. “I have no time for her today.” She turned to me and told me to be outside in five minutes.

Her Rolls-Royce was brought around, and Señor Garman, glaring at me with disapproval, opened the door for her. I expected I would be told to get in the front passenger seat, but he continued to hold the door open, so I got in after Tía Isabela. I glanced at her and thought she was never underdressed, no matter what the occasion. Even going to the hospital to visit her injured son, she was dressed as if she were going to a grand fiesta.

She wore expensive-looking rings on all of her fingers and a white-gold necklace with diamonds that had matching diamond teardrop earrings. With her fashionable hat and her olive-green dress and shoes, she looked like royalty. I could only be in awe of that air of superiority about her. Once again, she seemed untouchable and far above ordinary people and things in this world. Now that she had regained her strength, even family tragedy dared not disturb her. What were her dreams like? Was she so strong that even nightmares dared not enter her sleep?

There was so much about mi tía Isabela that I despised but so much I envied. Was that wrong?

She looked out the window and fiddled with her jeweled purse as we drove along. I didn’t want to stare at her, but I kept glancing her way, anticipating her saying something to me. She didn’t speak, however, until we arrived at the hospital.

“Just follow me, and wipe off that depressing poor-Mexican-girl look,” she said as Señor Garman opened the door for her.

How could she hate what made us both Mexican so much?

She shot off, clearly making me think she wanted me to walk behind her and not side by side. I did just that, but I kept my eyes down and my face turned away from people.

In the elevator, she patted the back of her head and took a deep breath that she didn’t release until the elevator opened on Edward’s floor. It was as if she were going underwater. Again, I wondered if there was something to learn from how she handled hardships.

She had Edward in a private room with a private-duty nurse. As we drew closer to it, I grew even more nervous, and when we entered the room and I saw Edward’s head with bandages over his eyes, I gasped and bit down on my lower lip. His cheeks were bruised, as were his nose and his chin. It looked as if the skin had been peeled off in places.

His nurse, who was sitting near the bed and thumbing through a magazine, nearly leaped to her feet when Tía Isabela entered. Edward sensed she was there. After all, who else could cause a nurse to jump like that?

“Mother?”

“Yes, Edward, I’m here,” she said. “How is he doing?” she asked the nurse.

“His vitals are good. He’s gotten some sleep,” she said.

“Was the doctor in this morning?”

“No, Mrs. Dallas, not yet. I believe he’s to be here within the hour.”

“Did you bring Delia?” Edward asked the moment they stopped talking.

“She’s right here, Edward.”

“I want to be alone with her,” he said.

“What is the reason for all this intrigue, Edward? It’s…”

“None of your business, Mother,” he finished for her.

She stiffened, glanced at the nurse and then at me.

“Fine. Let’s leave them,” she told the nurse, and they left the room.

“Delia, come closer,” Edward said.

I stepped up to his bed. He reached up, and I took his hand.

> “I am sorry for you,” I said, and he started to smile and then cried out in pain.

“It hurts to laugh,” he said. “You don’t mean you’re sorry for me. You’re sorry for what happened to me.”