Delia's Crossing (Delia 1)

Once again, the two of us sat in the rear of the Rolls-Royce. This time, however, Tía Isabela talked to me in español all the way to the hospital—so Señor Garman could not eavesdrop, I thought.

“Sophia likes to think she is a strong, independent young woman, but she’s very weak when it comes to doing substantial or important things. She can’t face adversity, trouble, and she has a very low tolerance for pain and discomfort. She hates any responsibility. It’s all her father’s fault. He spoiled her rotten until the day he died,” she said.

“When did he die?” I asked. I was almost afraid to speak, afraid she would stop talking to me if I dared ask a question.

“A little more than ten years ago. She was five, and Edward was seven. I admit that he spent more time with the two of them than I did, but I had to spend my time learning how to be a norteamericana. I had to educate myself to be socially sophisticated, intelligent about art and clothes and food. I didn’t have as much time for Edward and Sophia as my husband did. Anyway, children were more important to him.”

How could children not be more important to their mother? I wanted to ask but dared not.

“He was more like a grandfather than a father because of his illness.”

“What was his illness?”

“He was a heavy smoker all his life and had what is called emphysema, and by the time he realized he had it, it had caused severe damage to his lungs. He was the most depressing sight to see, walking around with a portable oxygen tank strapped to his body, those ugly things in his nose. It got so he couldn’t walk up the stairs. He had to sleep in a guest room downstairs, not that I wanted him in my bedroom wheezing and gasping all night. Toward the end, Edward would push him about in a wheelchair. He aged years in weeks.

“And do you want to know something stupid? He still smoked until the day he died. Tell that to your Mexican friends who start smoking even as early as six. Don’t deny it. I know I did it, and so did my girlfriends when I lived there, but it was always a dirty habit to me, making your teeth yellow.”

“It’s not only Mexican children who do that,” I told her, but she ignored me and ranted and raved about Sophia, who had grown up seeing her father degenerate and still went off sneaking cigarettes or worse.

“Up until now, I haven’t caught her, and she hasn’t been caught with marijuana, but I know she uses it. The best thing you can do for her is help me catch her

with it. The moment you see one of those joints or whatever they call them, you come get me, understand? You owe me, and this is how you will repay me,” she declared.

“She’s too smart for her own good. No one has a more deceitful, deceptive, and conniving child than I have. She’s bound to do something serious to embarrass this family. We must prevent it. We must protect our family name, Delia,” she said, implying now that I was part of the family that had to be protected. “If you understand anything I’m saying, you should understand that.

“I warned her many times. I told her I would send her away to a behavior camp where she would be locked up if she was caught doing any of those drugs or worse, and I will, too. Secretly, of course. I can’t have her besmirch my reputation in this community.

“Are you listening to me?” she suddenly asked, loudly and forcefully.

“Yes, Tía Isabela.”

“You’d better, because I’ll send you off as quickly as I send her. You could end up in some federal detention center,” she warned. “Oh, I feel like I’m keeping my finger in the dike,” she moaned. “If he knew he wasn’t going to live long, why did he spoil them so much and leave me with this mess?”

She wasn’t asking me. Was she asking God? Did she ever pray? Why were there no crosses or religious icons anywhere in the house? I knew Señor Dallas was not a Catholic, but didn’t he have any religion? Dare I ask that now?

She stared out the window for a few moments and then turned to look at me, shaking her head. “I can’t believe she just up and gave you that bracelet. The only thing Sophia gives freely is grief.”

I put my hand over the bracelet. Perhaps I should not wear it when I was with Tía Isabela, I thought. It brought only anger and unhappiness out of her.

“Why is it I feel like I’m waiting for the second shoe to drop?” she muttered.

Once again, I found myself feeling sorrier for her than I was feeling for myself.

When we arrived at the hospital, she walked more slowly, allowing me to stay alongside her. The hospital staff who saw us greeted her and wished her good luck with Edward. She still had him in a private room with a private nurse, but when we started down the corridor, we saw the private nurse at the nurses’ station laughing and talking with the other nurses.

“I’m glad I’m paying her so much money to watch over Edward,” Tía Isabela said angrily.

As soon as Edward’s nurse saw her, she shot toward us.

“His friend Jesse is with him,” she told us. She acted like someone being caught goofing off. “Being they’re young men, I thought they’d like to have some time to chatter. He’s still a little out of it,” she added, “but the nausea is gone.”

Tía Isabela didn’t respond. She glanced at me, nodded as if we shared a deep secret, and headed to Edward’s room. I walked in beside her.

Jesse was sitting next to the bed and holding Edward’s hand. The moment we entered, however, he let his hand go and rose.

“Hello, Mrs. Dallas,” he said.

Tía Isabela stared without speaking. I knew what she was thinking—two young men holding hands.