Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

She nearly smiled and caught herself. “Tell her I didn’t understand a word she said,” she told Señor Baker. He started.

I smiled and looked away, daring to mumble, “Sí. Yes, you did.”

She heard me, and it reddened her cheeks and put the fire back into her eyes.

“Mrs. Rosario!” my aunt screamed.

Señora Rosario appeared so quickly that it was obvious she was waiting just outside to be called.

My aunt pointed to my suitcase.

“How could you permit that dirty thing to be brought into the main house?”

“I…she had…”

“Never mind. Take her and that thing to her room, and show her what her duties are. Don’t treat her any better than anyone else, and let me know the moment she fails to do what you say.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dallas.”

“Mr. Baker will be teaching her English whenever her work is completed. Do whatever is necessary to make him comfortable in the library.”

“Yes, Mrs. Dallas.”

“Get her moving. I won’t tolerate another lazy Mexican in my house or on my grounds,” my aunt said, and started to turn away.

I looked at Señor Baker and quickly spoke up in my newest English words.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dallas. I’m pleased to be here and grateful for all you are doing for me,” I said.

She spun around, her eyes wide. I held my gaze. I would not be treated as if I were no better than a cucaracha, something to be crushed and swept away. She glanced at Mr. Baker, who dared a short laugh and shrugged.

“She’s got spirit,” he said. “She’s more like you than you think, perhaps.”

She paused and stared at me a moment. I held my gaze on her, my self-pride still firm.

“We’ll see,” she said, and then marched out of the living room, her high heels tapping the travertine floor in a rhythm of rage, rage I neither appreciated nor understood. It was as if my very presence infuriated her. If this was so, why did she send for me? Why did she want me in her home? If she still hated her family so much, why did she want a living reminder of it right under her nose?

Something told me, warned me, however, that I had just seen only the tip of the flame. There was quite a fire burning in her chest, a fire started years ago back in our village. Would I ever understand it?

More important, would it consume me, or would I snuff it out before it could?

“You can get more with honey than with vinegar,” my grandmother used to tell me. “Anger is easy. Kindness is harder but more rewarding.”

I had seen the anger.

Now I wondered, where was the kindness here?

4

Cleaning for Sophia

Señora Rosario told me to pick up my suitcase and follow her. I was surprised when she took me out a side door and led me to one of the buildings away from the house. I was anticipating going up the beautiful stairway to my room.

“Adónde vamos, Señora Rosario?” I asked.

“In this building is a room for you,” she said as we walked toward it. “You will be responsible for cleaning up after yourself and keeping your things in order. You will share a bathroom with Señor Garman, Señora Dallas’s driver. I can tell you now that he is not happy about it. He’s never had to share his bathroom before, so don’t dilly-dally whenever you’re in there, and be sure you pick up after yourself, and never, ever touch any of his things.”

So, that’s why he was so upset, I thought. There were so many bedrooms and so many bathrooms on this property, probably, and he had to share his with me. I wondered if Señora Rosario slept in this building, too, but before I could ask, she told me that she and the other servants lived in their own homes. Señor Garman and I would be the only servants sleeping on the property.