Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

Edward laughed and then moaned with the pain. “Hey, Delia,” he said, reaching toward me.

I moved quickly to take his hand.

“You hang in there until I get home, okay? Everything will be all right. How do you say everything will be all right in Spanish?”

“Todo será bien,” I said, and he repeated it and laughed.

“Ow. It hurts too much to laugh. Get out of here so I can feel sorry for myself,” he told Jesse.

“Right. See you later.”

“Hasta la vista, you mean.”

“Sí,” Jesse said. He touched his hand,

nodded to me, and we walked out.

He glanced at me with a soft smile as we went to the elevator. “Edward and I like each other very much,” he said when the elevator door closed and we were the only ones in the elevator. “You understand?”

“Yes,” I said.

“You okay about it?” he asked. “Okay?”

“Yes.”

“It’s our secret. Secreto,” he said. “Okay?”

“Yes,” I said. I was still a little too shocked to say much more.

I followed him out and down the corridor to the cafeteria, where mi tía Isabela was sitting at a table by herself, looking out at the hospital employees, doctors, and nurses with a condescending expression, as if she were in charge of everything and wasn’t entirely pleased.

“Oh, Jesse,” she said as soon as we approached. “Do me a big favor, will you?”

“Absolutely, Mrs. Dallas.”

“Take Delia to her school. I have a beauty-parlor appointment I must get to. My stylist is worse than a doctor when it comes to schedules.”

“No problem. I’ll be glad to take her,” Jesse said.

“Good. Thanks. Go with him, and don’t get into any trouble today,” she told me in Spanish.

“I don’t get into trouble,” I said, recalling Edward’s advice to push back. I wanted to say more, but I pressed my lips together to trap the fiery words that were threatening to burst out. She seemed to sense it. I thought there was almost a smile of appreciation on her face, as if she were seeing something about herself in me. Maybe Edward was right, or maybe I was hoping and dreaming too much, I thought, and quickly left with Jesse.

Although it wasn’t a sports car, he had a very expensive-looking automobile. He saw how I was looking at it and told me it was a Mercedes.

“It was my older brother’s car, but he went to college, and I inherited it,” he explained. “My older brother’s…now mine.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

“You’ve picked up a lot of English already.”

“I knew some English before I came. Poco. Then I learned more quickly, and now I have a good teacher.”

“You’ll learn English quicker than Americans learn Spanish, I’m sure,” he said. He continued, speaking very slowly, almost as if he were talking in his sleep. “Edward and I have known each other for some time, but we became close friends only about a year ago. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“No one really knows how close we are,” he said. “Most think it or suspect, but no one knows for sure.”