Delia’s Gift (8 page)

“You sure had me believing you about all that terror crossing the desert and his dying. I thought I was the
best when it came to pulling wool over other people’s eyes.”

“Pulling wool?”

“You can stop that ignorant Mexican girl act, Delia, especially when you’re talking to me,” she snapped. “I know you’re smarter than almost any of the other students who were in our classes.”

I put on my robe.

She was glaring at me with daggers in her eyes.

“I’m sorry you are so angry at me.”

I sat across from her and started to dry my hair.

“Sorry? What did you expect? I loved Adan, and I don’t mean just as a cousin.”

I stopped drying my hair. “What do you mean?”

“There was a time when I thought he and I might tie the knot. Know what that means?”

“You never said anything like that, and you were happy that he was seeing me.”

“Well, that was because he didn’t see me as I saw him, so I gave up on it and settled for a closer friendship. We got so he would confide in me as much as he would in any of his male friends. That’s how I knew he was so bonkers over you and that it was hopeless. I tried to talk him out of going back to you, telling him not to feel so sorry for you, that you were much smarter than he could imagine. I did keep him away for a while and got him fixed up with Dolores Del Ray. I had his father convinced it would be a good match, but he threw that out the window to go back with you. He’d be alive today if he had listened to me.”

Tears froze over my eyes.

She opened her purse and took out a cigarette.

“You are smoking?”

“Since Adan’s death,” she said. “Maybe I’m suicidal. Didn’t you once tell me everyone who gets close to you suffers some way, somehow? One of your other big secrets, I imagine.”

“I was being honest with you, Fani, and trusting. I thought you were my friend then.”

“I was your friend, probably your best friend.” She puffed again and looked at me, moving her closed lips from side to side as if she were washing the inside of her mouth with a new thought. “Maybe I still am or could be. It will depend on what you do now.”

“What do you mean? What will I do?”

“I hope nothing more to hurt my cousin. Señor Bovio lost the election because his son died, you know. He lost his whole great future. And let me tell you something, Delia,” she said poking the air between us with her long cigarette. “He would have been a great U.S. senator for our people. A great many people lost when he lost.”

“Why did he lose?”

“Why did he lose?” She laughed coldly. “His heart fell out of his body, and he had no energy or interest in the campaign after Adan died.”

She blew her smoke straight up and then studied me again. Her critical gazes made me very uncomfortable. I tightened the robe.

“How many months are you supposed to be?”

“It’s not what I’m supposed to be, Fani. I am about three months,” I said.

“Right.”

“I am, Fani.” She was infuriating me now. “Some women don’t show for many months.”

“Some never show,” she said.

“Why would I lie about this?”

“Why?” She laughed and waved her hand. “To be here for a while, that’s why. I’m sure it’s a little better than the Mexican village you were returning to, isn’t it?” She smiled. “From what I was told, you certainly didn’t behave like a pregnant woman the day you came.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“You and that José or whatever his name is, the pool man. My cousin had to fire him.”

“He fired him?”

“Ray said you were flirting with him. Not that I blame you. I’ve seen him. He’s got quite the body. If I ever felt like slumming, he’d be my choice.”

“I did not flirt. I am sorry Señor Bovio thought that and did this. I don’t like that someone lost his job over me.”

“Right. You’ll lose sleep over it. So, you’re sure you’re really pregnant? Lots of times it’s a false alarm, or it’s something a woman wishes.”

“Doctors examined me, took tests, Fani. I couldn’t make this up just to live here, and I wasn’t exactly feeling that I should live here.”

She laughed. “I bet not.”

“You’re being very cruel, Fani.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been exactly Miss Congeniality these days with anyone, so don’t feel bad.” She smoked some more and then said, “Things aren’t so good at my house.”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents.”

“What about them?” I expected she would tell me they had become stricter after Adan’s death, imposing
curfews and restrictions on her. I was sure she would blame that on me as well.

“I think they’re heading for a nasty breakup.”

“A breakup? Why?”

“My mother found out something about my father that has turned her against him. It’s like living in the land of the dead these days.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What did he do? Is he seeing another woman?”

She blew more smoke straight up again and looked away. There was a long silence, and then her shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know why I’m telling you anything,” she said. “Except,” she added, looking back at me and smiling, “you’ve proven you’re real good when it comes to keeping secrets. My cousin, Ray Bovio, doesn’t even know what’s happening with my parents yet. And I don’t want you telling him! He has enough to worry about, and he’s had enough unhappiness, thanks to you.”

I just stared at her a moment. “Maybe,” I said, “it’s better you don’t confide in me, Fani. Yes, I keep secrets well, but secrets burn you from the inside out.”

“Thanks. I just knew I could depend on you when it came to being a friend.”

“I don’t know what to say to you, Fani,” I said, exasperated. “Do you want me to be your friend or not? Sometimes you sound as if you don’t, and sometimes you sound as if you do.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I didn’t have to come.”

“
Sí.
Okay. You can tell me your secret, and I won’t tell anyone. Why is your mother angry at your father, so angry that she would leave him?”

“He has a boyfriend,” she said.

“What? What does this mean, a boyfriend?”

“He goes both ways, Delia, but mainly with his boyfriend these days, it seems. You know what going both ways means, don’t you?”

“
Sí.
”

She looked angry, but I could see tears glistening in her eyes. She looked out toward the stables. “Anyway, who cares what they do, right? I’m going off to college in late August, and I won’t be back much.”

“I’m sorry, Fani.”

She turned her now fiery eyes at me. “Stop saying that. One thing I won’t stand for is you feeling sorry for me. You’re the one who should be pitied. What do you think your future is going to be once you have your baby? A few years from now, you’ll probably be working as someone’s maid. Maybe I’ll hire you myself.”

I felt my blood boil. “No, Fani. Whenever I am ready to go, Señor Bovio is paying for my college. I’m going to become a nurse.”

“How would you go to college when you have a baby?”

“I won’t go right away, but he’s buying me a car and paying all of my expenses.” I smiled. “I’m thinking I’ll get my own apartment, and maybe,” I said, still smiling, “I’ll have a Mexican lady babysitter. He would pay for it if I asked.”

She looked skeptical. “Why would he do all that?”

“It’s a bargain he has made.”

“What bargain?”

“I agreed to live here during my pregnancy and let him take care of me so that my baby, his grandchild, would be born healthy rather than go back to Mexico.
In return, he has hired a private-duty nurse and nutritionist, bought me personally made maternity clothing, even maternity shoes, and has the doctor coming here and giving me very personal attention. He’s arranged for me to finish my high school work here. A teacher is bringing everything to me today.”

“Buying you a car, paying your expenses after you give birth? You fell into a gold mine, didn’t you? I hope you planned all this. I hope it wasn’t all accidental.”

“What? Why?”

“Why? I’d like you more if I knew you were as good a schemer as I am, if not better.”

“You’re not going to like me very much, then,” I told her.

She paused for a moment, and then she laughed. “I do miss you, Delia. It’s been rather boring at school, as a matter of fact. I’m not even interested in picking on your stupid cousin Sophia. It was always like shooting fish in a barrel, anyway,” she said, and blew some smoke.

“What are you doing?” we heard Señor Bovio cry out.

Both of us turned to see him walking quickly in our direction.

“Fani!” he screamed louder.

“What?”

“I asked you to come by and be a companion for Delia but not to blow smoke in her face,” he said, drawing closer.

“I’m not blowing smoke in her face, Ray. Calm down. Jesus.”

“Put that cigarette out,” he ordered. “Don’t you
know it’s bad for pregnant women to be around smoke?”

She stared at him and then stamped it out. “Sorry,
mi dios
.”

“I don’t want smoking anywhere on my property.”

“What about your Cuban cigars, Ray?”

“I’ve locked them away for now,” he said. He turned to me. “Mr. McCarthy is here to see you. He has all of your books and materials. Go change and meet him in the library. He’s waiting there. You don’t want to catch cold walking around the air-conditioned house in a wet bathing suit.”

“Why are you getting so hyper, Ray? She’s not that fragile,” Fani told him.

He turned to her with a look of pain in his eyes. “I would have expected you to think like I do, Fani. She’s carrying Adan’s baby.”

Fani glanced at me and then looked away. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “I have a few silly errands to do for my mother. I’ll call you sometime, Delia.”

“I’ll walk back with you,” I said quickly, and joined her.

Señor Bovio remained standing there as we walked off toward the house.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Fani told me as we drew farther away.

“Wrong? About what?”

“About your falling into a gold mine. Maybe you just fell into a dark hole. I’ll call you,” she promised, and walked to her car.

I watched her get in, looked back at Señor Bovio, who was still standing at the pool looking our way,
and then I hurried into the house to dress and meet my teacher.

Mrs. Newell was waiting for me at the top of the stairway. She seemed to pop out of nowhere.

“I’m happy you’ve come back inside. I see you went out without putting any sunblock on. We don’t want you getting a heat rash or sunburn.”

“I have lived in the sunlight all my life, Mrs. Newell. I know when I’m getting too much.”

“You haven’t been pregnant all your life, have you?” she shot back at me. Then she paused with a new thought. “Were you ever pregnant?”

“No, of course not.”

“It’s not a foolish question to ask. Girls even younger than you are often married and mothers back where you’re from, aren’t they?”

“I was not,” I said.

“Um. Next time, put on the sunblock. I left it on the dresser in your room. People don’t understand,” she said in a more thoughtful, calmer voice. “Young girls can be physically mature enough to conceive, but that doesn’t mean they have the basic intelligence necessary yet to take care of themselves and their children. Sex is easy; motherhood is not.” She smiled. “It’s why we have so many problems with young people today.”

“Do you have children, Mrs. Newell?”

“No, but…”

“Why don’t you have children?” I was going to add,
if you’re so smart about it.

“That’s not your business. We’re here to deal with you, not me.”

“Deal? I don’t want anyone dealing with me, Mrs.
Newell. I’m not a deck of cards,” I told her, and went to my room.

Fani would have liked that, I thought, smiling to myself. I made a mental note to tell her. We’d have some good times laughing about it. Despite all she had said, I was happy she had come to see me and looked forward to the next time. I hoped she wouldn’t wait too long.

When I stepped into my room, I saw the schedule Mrs. Newell had prepared for me. She had left it on my pillow so I couldn’t miss it. It was quite detailed, with almost every moment of my day accounted for, right from when I awoke, had my breakfast, and then, according to her wishes, took my morning exercise, which she specified as only a ten-to-fifteen-minute walk. She had even outlined where I should walk.

After that, I was to go to the library to do my schoolwork until lunch. I would then return to the library, where, on Wednesdays, Mr. McCarthy would meet me at two
P.M.
to review what I had done and to see if I had any questions or problems. He would leave me the next week’s assignments.

Following that, Mrs. Newell would take my blood pressure and check to be sure my feet or hands weren’t swelling. I was always to tell her if I had any problems, but she would consider this to be her examination. Since the sun was lower, I could, if I wanted, go for a fifteen-minute swim. She dictated that I would then take a nap, to relax before dinner.

My time after dinner was my own, but I was to be in bed by ten
P.M.

Every other day, I would be weighed in the morning before breakfast.

The doctor’s visits were clearly indicated on the calendar she had created. I did see that I was scheduled to be taken to his office for the ultrasound test and something called chorionic villus sampling. She didn’t explain it but told me to see the pamphlet she had left on my desk. Three weeks after these tests, I was to have an amniocentesis. I read in the pamphlet about each exam. She had underlined that chorionic villus sampling was generally done when the mother or father had a genetic disorder that ran in the family.

“Since medical records for poor rural Mexicans are nonexistent, this is important,” she had written in the margins.

My first reaction was pure anger, but then I thought it was not untrue, although I could not recall
mi abuela
Anabela or my mother ever mentioning such problems in either my father’s or her family. Since Señor Bovio was paying for all of this, how could I object?

My phone rang. My first reaction was hope and excitement. Perhaps it was Edward, but it turned out to be only the intercom.