Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

“Why are you soaked?” Señora Rosario asked me in español.

I explained what had happened, and she shook her head. She spoke softly to my cousin, trying to calm her down, but my cousin fume

d and folded her arms under her breasts.

Sophia was un pollo regordete, a plump chicken, as mi abuela Anabela would say. Her cheeks were bloated and looked as if she had a mouth full of walnuts. They diminished her dark brown eyes, which were her best feature. Her nose was just a little too long, and the nostrils flared like the nostrils of a small bull. She had twice the size bosom I had, but her hips were wider, and her arms were puffy all the way to her shoulders. I noticed she had fat fingers, too.

I thought, considering her round face, that her walnut-brown hair was cut too short. It emphasized the fullness in her cheeks and the slightness of her small mouth, which she seemed capable of stretching like a rubber band when she shouted. She turned back to me.

“Can’t she speak any English?”

“Un poco, a little,” Señora Rosario quickly corrected. “She just arrived from Mexico.”

“Why did my mother want such a servant in our house? Don’t we have enough Mexicans?”

“She’s a good worker,” Señora Rosario said. She didn’t know what else to say. “She went right to work as soon as she was brought here.”

“More reason for her not to be in my shower. Did she bathe first? Did you bathe first?” she asked me.

Señora Rosario explained what she had said and what she wanted to know, but I already understood what she was implying. My grandmother or my mother wouldn’t let me out of the house with as much as a pin stain on my clothing and never before I washed and had my hair brushed.

“I’m clean,” I told Señora Rosario. “Cleaner than she is, I’m sure.”

“What did she say? Did she say something mean? What did she say?” Sophia demanded.

Señora Rosario made up something satisfying, because it seemed to calm Sophia down a bit. Then she pointed to me again and shouted, “Get her out!”

I quickly put on my shoes and socks, gathered up my pail, washcloths, mop, and cleaning fluids, and started out of the room.

“Why did you take so long?” Señora Rosario asked me in the hallway. “I told you how much time you had. I told you not to be in there when she returned from school.”

“I was trying to do a good job. It’s so dirty and messy,” I explained. “That was a mean thing for her to do to me.”

Señora Rosario sighed deeply.

“Welcome to La Casa Dallas. You’ll go back later and finish up,” she said. “In the meantime, go change out of your wet clothes. You might as well make your bed and get yourself organized in your room. Then come to the kitchen,” she told me.

I started down the hallway.

My aunt Isabela stepped out of her bedroom just as I reached the stairway and shouted at Señora Rosario.

“Why is she soaked? Why is she tracking water down the hallway?”

Señora Rosario hurried to her, urging me behind her back to continue down the stairway and out of the house as she passed me by. I looked back and saw her explaining desperately. My aunt glared after me, her eyes so red with fury and anger that I couldn’t move fast enough to get out of their range.

As I hurried from the main house, I saw two gardeners looking at me and laughing. I tried to ignore them, but one shouted, “Señorita, usted se cayó en la bañera?”

“No,” I shouted back, “I did not fall into the bathtub, but looking at you, I would advise you to fall into one.”

They both looked shocked and then roared with laughter.

I charged into the help’s quarters and went to the bathroom, dried my hair, and gathered up the bedding for my bed. Then I hurried to my hole-in-the-wall room, where I quickly stripped off my wet clothing and began to dry my body. Moments later, I heard someone coming down the hallway. There was a knock on my door.

Señora Rosario isn’t giving me much time, I thought. Why did everything have to be in such a rush here? I held the towel over my breasts and opened the door.

Standing there was Señor Baker. He had two books in his hands and a brassiere. His gaze moved quickly down to my feet and then slowly rose up my body, bringing a deep, wide smile to his face. I felt the heat of a deep blush come into my own.

“I thought you were Señora Rosario,” I told him.