Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

She focused on me again.

“Just know that I know you inside and out. All right,” she said. “What’s done is done. You won over Edward quickly.”

“He knows I’m not lying. He knows Señor Baker is lying.”

“I don’t care. I don’t know what happened between you and Mr. Baker, and I don’t want to know. I’ll see to it that you are admitted to the public school. I certainly won’t pay for you to be in the private school, no matter what Edward wants.

“You can stay in this room for now,” she continued. “I guess I’ll have to admit who you are if my son insists on blabbing it all over the community. I’ll provide you with your basic necessities, but you’ll look after yourself, and you’ll still help with the housework. You’ll have to earn your keep. That’s as far as I’ll give in,” she said.

She started for the door and turned.

“I’ll make the arrangements for you to attend school. The first time you embarrass me, I’ll send you back. You have to remain here under my guardianship before you can be considered a citizen, and if I don’t perform that role, you will be sent back on a donkey wearing rags.”

She smiled.

“We’ll soon know whether you belong here with us or back there with…them. Don’t expect me to speak to you in Spanish unless I find it absolutely unavoidable,” she concluded. “If you want to ask me anything, do it in English. Learn the words. I was willing to spend the money for private lessons. You couldn’t handle Mr. Baker, fine. Now you’re on your own.

“Sink or swim,” she said, and walked out.

Maybe you’re not as high above us as you think you are, Tía Isabela, I thought. Maybe you sank a long time ago and drowned in your own unhappiness, and all your riches can’t save you.

Maybe you brought me here to satisfy yourself that you were so much better, and maybe for now, I give you that feeling and help you believe it, but I swear on my dead parents’ souls, you will come begging me for forgiveness someday.

You will cry in church for yourself, and you will beg for mercy.

You will beg to come back to your family.

I know this is true as I know the sun will rise tomorrow.

And then I thought, Perhaps this is why, perhaps this is the reason I was brought here.

9

School

Although my aunt wanted as little to do with me as possible, she had to accompany me to the public school to enroll me. She made me sit up front with Señor Garman while she sat in the rear as usual. This would be the first time she openly revealed that she was declaring herself my legal guardian. She had some official-looking documents with official government stamps her attorney had provided.

There was no doubt she wanted to get this over with quicker than a dentist appointment. As soon as we entered the school, I practically had to run to keep up with her. She had said nothing to me the whole time except for “Don’t you dare embarrass me by doing something stupid at school, something you might do in Mexico. This is not Mexico.” She told me this just before we left the house and had Señora Rosario translate it. It wasn’t necessary. From the face she wore and the way she waved her forefinger at me, I understood what she was saying. How many threats would she whip at me before saying one nice thing? And what did she think went on in Mexico? Not everyone was the young girl she had been.

We went directly to the main office. I could see that the administrators and the secretaries knew who she was or, rather, how rich she was. They jumped to attention when we entered, and they were very accommodating. To me, it seemed they were treating her as if she were royalty. In America, the rich are coronated, I thought, but maybe it was the same everywhere. The wealthy people were always treated with more respect in and around my village.

“I’m in a hurry,” she told them, and a secretary brought us quickly to the guidance counselor’s office.

The guidance counselor, Mr. Diaz, a tall, dark-haired man with a gentle smile, spoke to me in Spanish. I saw immediately that my aunt was annoyed.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she told him. “If everyone speaks Spanish to her, she won’t learn English.”

“Oh, she’ll learn, Mrs. Dallas. I promise you. We have a wonderful ESL teacher here.”

He explained in Spanish that my aunt thought I might be lazy about learning to speak English well if he continued to speak to me in Spanish. I wanted to warn him that she understood Spanish. Because she had such airs about her and did not use a word of Spanish, he assumed she didn’t. I saw her bristle.

“She might very well be lazy,” she told him sharply in Spanish. “I don’t know much about her. She lived in Mexico all her life, where the main word for everything is mañana, and she has just arrived after the death of my sister and brother-in-law. I haven’t had all that much time with her, but I’m sure her schooling was nothing compared to what it is here.”

She didn’t mention that she had come from my village, too.

He stiffened quickly, looking as if she had just slapped his face.

“Oh, yes, of course,” he said, fumbling with h