Delia's Heart (7 page)

The truth was, both Jesse and Edward knew more
about women’s designer clothing than I did. They rejected dress after dress as being too ordinary and finally settled on a beaded gown that sold for fifteen hundred dollars, nearly twice the cost of the dress Sophia and her friends had destroyed. It was red with silver-tone beaded shoulder straps and waist. It had an open back, a surplice V neckline, and a gathered front with a full skirt.

“What about shoes?” Jesse asked, and the saleslady immediately brought out a pair to match the dress. Before we left the store, Edward had spent more than two thousand dollars. When I thought what this money would mean back in my little Mexican village, I was speechless.

“I want to be there when Sophia sees you in the dress,” Edward said gleefully. “Don’t show it to her until next Saturday.”

He didn’t have to tell me that. I was afraid of another sabotage job. In fact, as soon as we drove up, I hurried upstairs and hid everything deep in my closet. Sophia had still not risen and come out of her room. Tía Isabela was furious about it and forbade anyone to bring her anything.

“I do think it’s the perfect time for us to leave, don’t you, Jesse?” Edward said, smiling at his mother. “We have weak stomachs.”

“You’re just like your father was, Edward, when it comes to facing unpleasantness.”

“Maybe that’s because there’s so much of it here, Mother,” he snapped back at her. Then he smiled, said good-bye until next weekend, and started out.

“You mean you’re coming back again next weekend?” she shouted after him.

“We just can’t seem to stay away, Mother, which shoots down your theory about facing unpleasantness.”

Jesse said nothing. I followed them out to their car.

“Thank you for everything,” I told them.

“Just keep your chin up, and don’t let either of them get to you,” Edward advised.

They both hugged me. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell them about all the nasty rumors now, but I held back. Why let them drive off worried more than they already were? I stood and watched Edward’s car turn out of the driveway, and then I walked back into the house. It was deadly quiet, but I knew that was a deception. Soon, as soon as Sophia was up and about, there would be a great deal of static and noise.

However, Sophia had such a bad hangover from whatever she had done the night before that she didn’t get out of bed all day. Tía Isabela finally went up to her room to see about her at dinnertime and returned furious. I was afraid to ask anything. She sat fuming. Ten minutes later, Sophia appeared, looking like she had just risen from a grave. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes bloodshot, and her complexion pale. Even her lips were a pale red. She kept her hand over her eyes and leaned over her food.

“I’m not hungry,” she moaned.

“You should eat something, Sophia. And don’t give me that story about someone putting something nasty in your lemonade. I’m not a fool.”

“Well, someone did!” she cried, and immediately cringed from the pain of shouting.

“You know why you’re a dummy, Sophia? This is not the first time or the second you’ve suffered after
being so reckless, and if I had to gamble, I’d say you’re going to do it again and again.”

“I’m going to throw up,” Sophia said, and she lifted her head slowly and glared at me. “I’ll tell you why I’m in such pain, Mother. It’s her fault.”

“Her fault?” Tía Isabela smiled. “How, pray tell, is it her fault, Sophia?”

“She put a Mexican curse on me, and she wouldn’t tell me what it was. It was probably this.”

Tía Isabela held her smile, but the humor left a vacant mask. She looked at me.

“What curse is she talking about, Delia? Does this have something to do with the dress?”

“
Sí
,” I said. “Yes.”

“Why did you tear up that dress, Sophia? That was a very expensive dress.”

“It wasn’t deliberate. Alisha tried it on, and it ripped.”

“She is lying,” I said softly.

“I am not. You weren’t there. You were hiding in the bathroom.”

“Enough,” Tía Isabela said. “We don’t believe in curses. That’s primitive. It’s ridiculous for you even to think such a thing. It’s just an attempt to pass blame away from yourself.”

“I can’t believe how much you take her side now, Mother,” Sophia whined. Then she paused and smiled. “Maybe you’re more of a Mexican than you want people to believe. Maybe I should talk about it.”

Tía Isabela’s face nearly exploded from the rush of blood into her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes bulged with rage. Even Sophia saw she had crossed some line. She tried to swallow and then quickly looked down.

“I’m sick!” she screamed, and got up to run out before Tía Isabela could respond.

Minutes seemed to pass. I didn’t move, didn’t lift my eyes from the plate. Finally, she spoke.

“What was the curse?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“What did you say?”

“I was very angry, Tía Isabela. It means nothing.”

“I know it means nothing, but what was it?”

“I told her that she should feed on her goodness and starve.”

Tía Isabela said nothing. I looked up at her. She was nodding.

“My father…he said the same thing to me,” she said.

“I was very angry,” I repeated.

“Someone put a curse on this family,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “It’s been with us for years. Never mind,” she added, returning to herself quickly. “I don’t want to hear any more about any of this. Get through a week without any turmoil. I have a lot to do this week.”

She rose and started out, then paused and turned back to me.

“You should have come with me to Los Angeles. Maybe none of this would have happened,” she added, and left.

Maybe she was right, I thought. Perhaps she was changing. Perhaps she was tired of the bitterness in her heart and was hoping to rid herself of the past. Despite how cruel she had been to me and all of the unhappiness she had caused or participated in, I couldn’t help having this desire to win her over, to bring her back to
her family, to have her see me as her niece, her blood. Was I weak and stupid for wanting this, or was it what my mother would have wanted?

I spent the remainder of the day keeping to myself. Sophia did the same. I finished my homework, did some reading, took a walk around the grounds, and spoke in Spanish to the pool man who had come to clean it and treat the water. Then I changed to have dinner. To my surprise, neither Sophia nor Tía Isabela appeared. Tía Isabela went out to meet someone, and Sophia ordered her dinner brought to her room. I half suspected she would not rise in the morning to go to school, but she was there at breakfast, bouncing about with unexpectedly renewed energy. I thought nothing of it. After all, she had slept away most of the day.

However, her enthusiasm and flashy smiles came from a different source of rejuvenation. I should have realized she was spending more of her day on the telephone plotting with her other two witches, as Edward and Jesse would say. I was not fooled by her overly friendly behavior toward me at breakfast and in the limousine. Señor Garman had returned from delivering Tía Isabela in time to be the one to take us to school.

“I hope Mr. K isn’t going to pull one of those Monday-morning history quizzes on us,” she said. “I didn’t have time to study. What do you think?”

“I think yes,” I said, and recited some of the areas and answers to questions I expected him to ask. I didn’t do it for her. I was reviewing it for myself as I described it.

“You really are better at school than I am,” she admitted. “I don’t understand why. I thought girls were thought to be too stupid to go far in school in Mexico.”

“Who told you that?”

“My mother.”

“It is not so.”

“Whatever,” she said. “I’m not worrying about it. If I don’t go to college, I don’t go.”

“What will you do?”

“I won’t work hard, I can tell you that. I’ll do something simple in one of our businesses just to pass the time maybe. Maybe not. I have time to decide. Well, here we are. In Wonderland,” she added, smiling at me. “Have a good day, Alice.”

“Alice?”

“Alice in Wonderland,
stupido
. I thought you were supposed to be the well-read one, not me,” she said, getting out of the car to hurry in.

Señor Garman, who had overheard us, turned to look at me as I got out slowly. His face was full of skepticism and warning.

“Count your fingers and toes every time you’re near her,” he told me, and drove off.

I looked at the entrance to the main building. Sophia was already inside with her friends. Something really wasn’t right, I thought, but I headed for the entrance, too, walking slowly, like someone who was anticipating an ambush.

W
hen I was little, no more than six, there was a very old lady in our village, Señora Baca. My mother told me she was one hundred and five years old and had outlived all her children. Her grandchildren looked after her now. Because of her age, she was venerated and revered. Everyone wanted her blessing, and no one would pass by her without stopping to ask her how she was and, more important, what the weather would be.

The belief was that her aged bones could predict the weather better than any weatherman on radio or television. She put her right hand under her left elbow, closed her eyes, and foretold rain, clouds and sunshine, warmth and cold. The story was that she was right far more than she was wrong.

But this fortune-teller’s power to read the wind and the clouds could be applied to reading the future of people’s lives as well. This was more subtle and hap
pened very quickly. When she looked into your face, her face would instantly react with a smile or a look of pain. Woe to those who saw pain in her face. They waited every day for some disaster to occur, and when one did, it reinforced the legend of Señora Baca. It was said that she predicted the hour and minute of her own death and simply told her grandchildren it was time for her to pass on.

My grandmother, who remembered Señora Baca well, told me that being old, living longer, simply meant you were walking side by side with Death longer. He was always there, patiently waiting, sometimes annoyed, especially with Señora Baca, because he had to tag along so long and began to feel more like a servant than a master. Señora Baca especially teased and tormented him with her longevity.

I don’t remember the incident all that well, but my mother told me that one day, Señora Baca put her hand on my head and predicted my life would be like a river, sometimes low, sometimes high, but never discouraged by any turn or twist. As water finds its way, I would find mine.

Of course, it was years before I understood what that meant, and even today, I wasn’t completely sure about it, but its meaning clearly made my mother happy. She thanked Señora Baca and from that day on told me never to pass her without greeting her. Although her face was thin and wrinkled like dried peaches, her eyes refused to age. I was nine when she died. It was a big funeral, because she belonged as much to the village as she did to her own family, and there was never a
Día de los Muertos
, a Day of the Dead, when everyone didn’t celebrate her.

I thought of her this morning as I walked into the school, wishing that she was sitting just inside so I could greet her and ask her what the weather would be for me, where my river would flow now. I tried to conjure her and hold on to the image of her tiny body planted in that big chair which was really the seat taken out of a truck, with the umbrella opened over her and her jug of cucumber water and a glass beside her.

It was said that she was one hundred and eight when she died, and Death was so tired from waiting that he gladly carried her off on his shoulders and played the donkey.

These rich memories from my village gave me strength to overcome any fear. I was sure that anyone looking at me entering the school would be taken aback by the smile on my face and the firmness in my body and in my gait. Almost immediately, however, I felt the tension. Apparently, the phones had been ringing in the homes of other students all weekend. Sophia’s disgusting accusations had gained firm footing in minds and conversations, not only among her friends but among mine, because of Katelynn and what she had seen at the restaurant.

Now it was known that I had clearly turned down a date with the school’s heartthrob, Christian Taylor, to go out with my gay cousin, Edward, and his companion, Jesse. Something untoward and unhealthy was obviously going on. What else could it be? Why else would I avoid a date with Christian Taylor? Now the truth was known.

I saw the whispering going on behind my back, the hesitation in the greetings the other students gave me, and felt the chill in the air between myself and the girls
who had befriended me. Perhaps to avoid sitting with me at lunchtime, my three closest friends had spread themselves out to sit with other students. For the first time since I had walked into the private school, I found myself alone at a table.

I saw that Christian had found allies now in Sophia and her two friends. They sat together, talking and laughing loudly for my benefit. I tried to look as indifferent as I could. However, I was twisting and turning into knots inside. I attempted to read, but my gaze kept floating off the page, and I found myself reading the same lines repeatedly.

And then, perhaps to show that she could do whatever she wanted or perhaps to be the first to know everything, Fani suddenly appeared at my table. She usually had only a yogurt and some fruit for lunch and took it out of her cloth bag after she sat. I stared at her and closed my book.

“I warned you about your cousin Edward and what could be made of it,” she began.

“I’m not going to insult and be unfriendly to my cousin Edward because my cousin Sophia is jealous of me,” I told her. “Edward and his friend Jesse worry about me. They are my best friends. If the others believe Sophia’s lies, they do because it pleases them to believe nasty things about…about Mexicans,” I said. I could feel the heat in my own eyes, and I could see that my outburst and determination startled her.

She dipped her spoon into her yogurt and ate quietly for a moment.

“Sophia doesn’t deny being half Mexican when she speaks to me.”

“That’s because she wants you to like her, invite her
to your parties, whatever. She’ll tell you whatever she thinks will make you happy, but she treats the Mexican servants and workers like dirt.”

Fani kept eating and then paused to look at me. “Well, you obviously don’t care what she says about you.”

“I refuse to let her bully me. My father always told me,
si usted actúa como una oveja, ellos actuarán como lobos
. If you act like a sheep, they will act like wolves. It’s as true here as it was back in Mexico.”

She finished eating and nodded. She didn’t look at me when she spoke next. “My parents are having a dinner Friday night for one of the candidates running for United States senator, Ray Bovio. His son, Adan, will be coming, too. I will send a car for you at six-thirty,” she said.

“You are inviting me?”

She pretended to look around the table. “Is there someone else here? Six-thirty,” she repeated. She put her empty yogurt container in the bag and stood up when the bell rang. “It’s formal, so dress appropriately,” she added. She looked toward Sophia and her friends and then flashed me a smile before walking off.

I sat amazed.

I truly am a river, I thought, meandering through places I have never been.

Fani’s joining me at my table stirred up even more chatter. By the end of the day, the news about my invitation to a dinner at her home had spread with electric speed, shocking Sophia. Apparently, Fani had deliberately told the girls she knew would do just that. Incredulous, Sophia had to approach me before the beginning of the last class to ask if it were really true.

“Fani invited you to dinner at her home?”

“
Por supuesto
.”

“What?”

“Oh, sorry. I just thought since you’ve been taking Spanish, you would understand. That means of course,” I said, and took my seat.

When the school day ended, she told me she wasn’t going home with me.

“If Garman asks, tell him I’ve gone over to one of my friends’ homes.”

“
Por supuesto
,” I said, and she smirked.

“I’m only taking Spanish to get the language requirement off my back. I don’t intend to speak it, so I don’t need to practice with you.”

Before I could reply, she walked off. When I came out of the school at the end of the day alone, Señor Garman didn’t really care where she was. He just asked me if he should wait for her and I told him no, she had gone to a friend’s home. As soon as I got home and up to my room, I called Edward to tell him of my invitation to dinner, a dinner for a United States Senate candidate.

“That’s terrific, Delia. I’m happy for you. We’ll wait until Saturday to come down, then. I hate the traffic on Friday night, anyway. Take notes. We’re going to want to hear all about it. Oh, does Sophia know?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I’m sure she’s having a nervous breakdown. Let me know the mental clinic she gets checked into,” he said. I had to laugh. “Maybe I should drive back to help you get another dress.”

“No, no, I have other dresses,” I said, laughing again.

“Actually, I’m more interested in my mother’s reaction to the news,” Edward said.

So was I. In fact, my curiosity about it was so great I looked for an opportunity to tell her as soon as she was home. I went to her office and knocked on the door.

“What is it now?” she asked, looking up from her desk.

“I came to tell you I have two nights out this weekend.”

“I know. My son and his Tonto are returning.”

“No. I was asked to a dinner being given by Estefani Cordova’s parents for a senatorial candidate named Bovio. It’s Friday night.”

She stared at me. “Who invited you?”

“Estefani. We call her Fani,” I said.

“Well,” she said, sitting back, clearly impressed. “I do think we’ve underestimated you, Delia. In this case, I’m happy to be wrong. I have taught you formal etiquette at the dinner table, so I imagine you will not embarrass me. However, I would like to see what you decide to wear.”

“Very well,” I said. “
Gracias
.”

I left her quickly, smiling to myself. I could almost hear
mi abuela
Anabela warning me, “You’re enjoying all this too much, Delia.”

“Just a little longer, Grandmother,” I whispered. “Just a little longer.”

Although Sophia seemed to shrink and avoided me for the remainder of the week, even when we were home, I didn’t for one second believe she was in any sort of retreat. For the moment, her efforts to hurt me with rumors and accusations were frustrated. Gradu
ally, my friends returned to my side, if I could call them my friends. Real friends would have given me the benefit of the doubt, I thought, but I had learned how to wear a mask, too, so I smiled and accepted their friendship again.

Fani was friendly in school but didn’t go far out of her way to be at my side. I thought she was standing on the sidelines, enjoying the way other girls behaved toward me, some still quite tentative, others, more curious than anything now, drawing closer. I caught Fani’s small smile when girls I rarely spoke to began speaking to me, and especially when Sophia sat off to the side, glaring, fuming, muttering under her breath.

On Friday morning, Fani reminded me to be ready at six-thirty. Tía Isabela had offered to have Señor Garman take me, but when she heard the Cordovas were sending their car and driver, she thought that was far more impressive. Although she had a date herself, she made certain to take the time to stop into my room and check out my choice of clothes, my hair, and even my makeup. Her excuse for this unusual attention was, “I don’t want the Cordovas thinking I don’t take an interest in your appearance. After all, you do represent me when you go anywhere in this community.”

She spoke as if I were some sort of an ambassador. It made me wonder how she went about explaining Sophia, with her rings in her nose and belly button, her sloppy appearance, torn jeans, and often ridiculous overdoing of makeup, especially her blackened eyes. I didn’t say anything contrary, however, thanking her for her suggestions and her offer of a pair of her diamond-studded earrings and matching necklace and bracelet, all of which she insisted enhanced my appearance. She
even took a brush to my hair to correct some loose strands.

Sophia kept her bedroom door shut, but she had to hear her mother attending to me. In my heart, I knew that this was not going to change anything. If it did anything, in fact, it only would make Sophia’s resentment of me deeper, but I was not going to suffer anymore in the hope that she would somehow have a miraculous change of heart. She had snapped every olive branch I had held out to her, and I had no doubt she would continue to do so.

Tía Isabela was at the door waiting with me at six-thirty. The Cordovas had a newer-model Rolls-Royce. When she saw it coming up our drive, she patted me on the shoulder and said, “Enjoy yourself, but never forget who you are,” which I knew meant “who I am.”

I thanked her and hurried out to the car. The driver was waiting with the door open. When I looked back at the house, I was sure I saw Sophia peeking out a window. Was I more excited and happier because of the invitation or because of the pain it had brought to my cousin? At the moment, the answer didn’t matter. I was truly curious about the Cordovas and Fani, especially after what Edward had told me about them. It was difficult to think of anyone wealthier than Tía Isabela or an estate and
hacienda
more beautiful, but I was about to see it. Ironically, it would make the simplicity and the poverty from which I had come seem like some dream.

I was really feeling like some Latina Cinderella, hoping that this golden chariot would not turn into a pumpkin and leave me questioning my own sanity.

It was a long ride to the Cordovas’ estate, and when
we turned toward the entrance, the shiny brass gate, at least twice the size of
mi tía
Isabela’s gate, opened as I imagined the gates of heaven to open. The driveway was seemingly endless, winding up a hill and around. The
hacienda
, all lit up with lights like huge candles on the walls and a large courtyard, was truly the size of a palace.

Fani must have to get up in the morning twenty minutes earlier than Sophia and me just to get out of the house and down the endless driveway to the road.

I saw many more cars than I had anticipated parked in front, some with drivers who had gathered to pass the time. As soon as I stepped out of the limousine, I heard the music of the mariachis. When I walked through the arched front door, I entered a very large courtyard, with stone benches, a huge fountain, and a carpet of grass for a floor. I immediately saw that this was no small family gathering. There were at least forty people attending, all formally dressed, the men in tuxedos and the women in beautiful gowns bedecked with jewels. Tía Isabela was right on target when she had offered me her diamonds.